"Annie, whom were you talking to downstairs?" Eric Camden asked lazily from his resting spot atop the master bed.
"Oh, it's that ridiculous Gabrielle woman," Annie answered agitatedly. "She's back, and she's baking brownies in my kitchen! Of all the nerve…"
Eric's ears perked up at the mention of Gabrielle. An involuntary smile passed his lips as he dreamily muttered, "She's back? That's nice. I liked that woman."
Annie stared at him in shock. "You did? Eric, don't you remember? She tried to kill you with the wine, and the cheese, and the cigars, all right after your open-heart surgery!"
Eric turned his head toward the window and the bright sunlight streaming in. "She wasn't trying to kill me. She was trying to get me to live again."
"Oh what a load of hooey," Annie said dismissively. "Just go back to watching your baseball game and forget I even mentioned her. I'll be shooing her out of the house as soon as she's done with her little cooking spree anyway."
Without turning from the window Eric unthinkingly protested, "Actually, Annie, baseball season is over. This is football. Southern Cal is playing…"
"I don't care! Just watch your game, and I'll handle the crazy old bat," Annie barked as she headed out to check on the twins.
"Sure. Whatever," Eric muttered absently to no one in particular as he lethargically turned from the sunshine back to the cathode ray projection. For some reason, Eric found that the game suddenly held no interest for him anymore. Or maybe it never had in the first place.
As the green football field blurred in and out of focus and his thoughts ran astray, he stumbled upon the realization that he hadn't really planned to get out of bed today. There had been no reason for him to do so. It had become all too clear to him lately that his family members were self-sufficient – save for the twins, who had Annie to mother them. And besides, Eric sadly but honestly acknowledged to himself, he had little interest in nurturing them even if they needed his help. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent more than five minutes at a clip with any of them other than Annie, yet it didn't bother him a bit.
In addition, outside of Eric's family, Glenoak's finest new associate pastor was now available to help Eric's former parishioners. So, clearly, no one needed him around anymore. But now that he knew Gabrielle was in the house, he contemplated rising just to see what was going on. There had to be an explanation for her reappearance, and unlike most of the other recent happenings in the Camden house, he actually cared to find out the reason behind it.
The sound of a blown whistle snapped Eric back into the moment. He decisively pushed the "Power Off" button, tossed the remote control onto the bedspread, and stepped into the bathroom for a shower.
***
Alone in the kitchen, Gabrielle took her ingredients from her handbag and placed them on the Camden counter. She set down the boxes of brownie mix, the vegetable oil, and the carton of eggs, none of which had cracked or made a mess during transit, thank goodness. Of course she would have to borrow a bit of milk from the Camden refrigerator, but they would never miss it.
"Confound it, now why on earth would a family this size buy a twelve-pack of individual-sized Chugs when a gallon jug would do just fine?" she muttered to herself as she searched for milk.
As Gabrielle rummaged, Ruthie Camden stepped downstairs to see a strange behind protruding from her refrigerator. Terrified, she shrieked, "Mom, Dad, come quick! Someone's stealing our food!"
A startled Gabrielle hit her head on the ceiling of the fridge as she spun around to pinpoint the source of the commotion. "Ow, that's gonna leave a nasty bump," she moaned as she patted her crown.
"Oh, it's you!" Ruthie relaxed and tried to suppress a laugh, for her twelve-year-old sensibility found the sight of the head-rubbing, wild-haired, broken-armed free spirit quite comical. "What are you doing back here? We thought we'd never see you again."
"Well, you wouldn't have, except I didn't finish my job the first time," Gabrielle explained.
"What job?" Ruthie asked.
"The job the Colonel sent me here to do."
Ruthie narrowed her eyes as if to read the woman and then, having completed her analysis, said, "You're not going to tell me what that job is, are you?"
"I'm afraid I can't, sweetheart."
"Well, whatever it is, can I help?" Ruthie eagerly offered, figuring that perhaps by offering her services, she might find out more about Gabrielle's mysterious mission. And, of course, she had to know what it was.
After grabbing a milk chug, Gabrielle closed the refrigerator door to take a better look at the young girl. She said, with a hint of surprise in her voice, "Well, Ruthie Camden, you sound like you've changed into a different person in the mere weeks since I was last here."
"Me?" Ruthie pointed a finger at herself questioningly. "How so?"
"Last time I was here, you wouldn't help your Mom do something as simple as bake a cake. And now, here you are, volunteering to help."
"Oh yeah, I guess you're right. I've changed for the better," Ruthie agreed immodestly as she recalled her childish behavior during Gabrielle's last visit.
"Well, listen, kiddo. There is something you can do to help me."
"What's that?"
"You can leave the kitchen and give me privacy while I do my work. Oh, and make sure no one else comes in and bothers me either."
Instead of leaving, however, Ruthie folded her arms and stared at Gabrielle suspiciously.
"Go on, dear. What are you waiting for?"
Ruthie coolly said, "I feel like it's only fair to warn you that sooner or later I'm going to find out what you're up to."
"I'm sure you are, dear," Gabrielle agreed indifferently. "Which is why I'll just give in and tell you now: I'm baking brownies. By the way, isn't it about time for you to walk your dog now?"
Thrown for a loop, Ruthie shifted and said, "It's not my dog, it's Simon's. And besides, how do you know she needs to be walked?"
Gabrielle tilted her head toward the door, where Happy stood scratching and whining to get out.
With an irritated sigh, Ruthie grabbed Happy's leash from a hanger and hooked it onto the dog's collar. Before leaving, however, she turned to Gabrielle and said inquisitively, "Last time it was spaghetti, this time it's brownies. Did the Colonel just hire you to cook for us? Mom's not going to like that. This is her kitchen."
"Believe me dear, she's made that perfectly clear. And no, he did not hire me just to cook for your family."
"Then what did he hire you for?"
Gabrielle shrugged to let Ruthie know that was a question she would not answer.
"Oh well. I'll be back in about five minutes, and when I get back I'm going to keep pestering you until I find out why you're really here."
"Such an enquiring mind," Gabrielle muttered as Ruthie exited and closed the door. Then, to herself, "No problem, though. Five minutes alone is all I'll need to work my magic!"