Bake Sale Debacle

Hi there, guys and dolls! High drama yet again in the neighborhood! Who’d have thought that a child’s fundraising event could bring out such hostility and downright bad manners in our civilized social set? Okay, I did, but then again I know these viperous women in kitten heels and aprons.

It all started last week when Mrs. Marshall announced that her 5th grade class would hold a bake sale. All the mothers were encouraged to make something nice and the children handmade flyers that were posted decorously all over the place – telephone poles, picket fences, even old man geezer’s (he’s so old, he doesn’t remember his name, we’re okay with that; every now and then we take turns checking on him, he’s fine) lazy old dog had something pasted on his side, he moves so slow (and don’t worry, he was okay with it; wagged his tail and slowly paraded himself through the streets, looks like he liked it :-)).

Sal and her daughter Sally Jr. getting ready for the bake sale

The streets were quiet as everyone was indoors baking away. Such family togetherness was never seen before. And the secrecy! My, no one told anyone what they were making. You’d think we were in the midst of the cold war, right there in our coffee clatch.

Now, I don’t have children. I haven’t even been able to get my clutches on a man to get up to the altar yet, and don’t get me started on the bridesmaid thing. I now flat out refuse. I will admit, I do enjoy the chase maybe more than is healthy, but who cares? That’s another post. So back to not having my own brood. I’ll go out and support the little nippers, buy a batch of cookies or a cake or two. It’s the least I can do, and what else are girdles made for?

Now doesn’t that look impressive?

The big day arrives. The table’s laid out to bowing and bursting with such delectable and decadent treats. And it doesn’t look like any bakery store cheaters, so I am suitably impressed, especially with Martha’s frosting on her chocolate cake. (Tasted delish; I ran my finger along the back of it and scooped up a tasty dip. She had it coming. Last week she snatched the last bag of Mallomars out of my shopping cart when she didn’t think I saw her. I did. Payback.)

All was well at first. Then from behind the table a roar erupted. Turns out Sal had made the exact same coconut layer cake with fluffy frosting that Val had made! Tables were turned, cakes, cookies, pies and even something in aspic went flying. I grabbed the plate of lemon squares that I had just bought from Maryann and sat under a nearby tree and watched. It was quite entertaining. Mrs. Marshall attempted to step in, but backed out when one of them (not sure who) cuffed her on the ear inadvertently and called the cops. They split them apart and didn’t issue charges, providing it wouldn’t happen again. I snort indelicately at that one, remember Bridge Night?

An accurate depiction of May and June, Val and Sal’s grandmothers in the early years

Anyhoo, after the table was righted and Val and Sal were escorted off the school grounds. The pathetically damaged sweets were put back on sale (they went anyway). Lily Sue then informed us of a little known fact of our little clique. Turns out Val and Sal were the granddaughters of a notorious pair of bruising women, May and June, known to box for money in their rebellious heyday.

Ain’t it fun getting to know your neighbors ;-)?

Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more posts. And don’t forget to give my Poppy Cove Mysteries a try if you haven’t already.

Toodles, Barbara Jean

About Barbara Jean Coast

Barbara Jean Coast is the pen name of authors Andrea Taylor and Heather Shkuratoff. She is currently hard at work telling the cozy tales of the fictional town of Santa Lucia, loosely based on Santa Barbara in the late 50's, early 60's, known as The Poppy Cove Mysteries.
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