Half an hour later, things were looking up in Robin's opinion.
"That's great, sir. No, we're sure. Okay, see you then." She hung up the phone. "Jack! Hammond is ten minutes away. I've got the side dishes on the stove heating up, and Daniel's biscuits are in the oven. I'm going upstairs to change!"
"Okay!" Jack was setting the table, and Daniel had retreated back to the rec room.
Robin headed up the stairs and into the room she and Aisha shared in Jack's house. She rummaged through the drawers and finally settled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, ruefully pulling off the sweater she'd been wearing all day. She'd picked it out last week, envisioning sitting down to a perfect dinner in it, but it was now covered in mashed turnips and bits of collard green.
The dinner isn't looking too good, either, she sighed.
Just then every smoke alarm in the house went off.
Robin battled her way back to the kitchen, holding her hands over her ears.
"What's going on?" Sam yelled, coming up from the rec room with her hands over her ears, too.
"I don't know!" Robin yelled. "Jack! What's going on!"
"The biscuits!" Jack was standing on a chair punching at the smoke alarm with a broom handle. The strategy did not seem to be working. "They're smoking!"
Robin opened the oven door and coughed as billows of smoke poured forth. She grabbed an oven mitt, reached inside for the pan, and pulled it out, turning away. The smoke alarm continued to blare. Robin headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Jack yelled. Robin opened the sliding glass doors.
"I'm taking them outside – the smoke won't go away and the alarm won't stop until I do," she explained.
"We can't save them?" Jack asked hopefully.
Robin looked at the pan of charred hockey pucks she was holding. "No."
She shut the door behind her, shivering in the sudden cold, and walked off the porch and set the pan on the ground. She'd move them later, before anyone went outside.
Cassandra and Max, her terrier, bounded up. "What's that?" Cassandra asked, eyeing the pan.
"A failed pan of biscuits," Robin told her sadly. Max sniffed them, looked up, and snatched one off the pan.
"Max!" Cassandra looked horrified. "Can he do that, Robin?"
Robin was actually a little amazed. "I don't see why he'd want to. But, sure, I don't see why not."
Max dropped the biscuit at her feet. Robin sighed, picked it up, and chucked it into the woods.
Max shot off like he'd been shot.
"Where's he going?" Robin asked, puzzled.
"Fetch is his favorite game," Cassandra explained simply.
Robin stood, amazed, as Max came back and dropped the biscuit at her feet. It was a little slobbered on, but didn't even bear any teeth marks.
"Amazing," Robin observed, then shivered. "I'm going back in."
"Is dinner almost ready?" Cassandra asked.
Robin laughed. "I hope so. Only time will tell."
The smoke alarm had stopped when she came back in.
"I think I messed them up," Jack told her, and Robin looked into the pots and pans on the stove. "They do look a little overcooked," she admitted. "But we could probably make them pass."
"They'll have to," Jack decided, and began spooning them into serving dishes.
The doorbell rang, and Jack and Robin looked at the door, then at each other.
"The moment of truth. See if your bird is edible," Robin suggested, and walked towards the door. Jack opened the door and hollered.
"What the – ah!" Robin stared at the turkey, in flames. "Shut the door!" she yelled, realizing that the open oven door was only feeding the flames.
"What do I do?" Jack asked, and Robin was too stunned at think. The doorbell rang again.
"Fend him off for five minutes. I'll scrape off the burned bits," Jack decided. "Go!"
Robin sprinted for the door and yanked it open. General Hammond stood there, looking a little put out at having been made to wait in the cold.
"General Hammond! Uh, come on in. Dinner is almost ready. Jack's taking the turkey from the oven right now," she told him, remaining as close to the truth as possible.
Hammond stepped inside and opened his mouth to say something.
At that moment, every fire alarm in the house went off. Robin clapped her hands over her ears, as did Hammond, and turned to look towards the kitchen.
Odd noises were coming from the kitchen. First Jack's voice, in an indiscernable yelling, and then Daniel's voice, high pitched, screaming "Put it out! Out!" and then Sam's voice. Above the din, Robin heard the sliding glass door open and shut, and a moment later the alarm quit mid wail.
Robin took her hands down, feeling faint, and turned to Hammond. Then she realized she could think of nothing to say.
Jack poked his head into the hallway, his apron blackened.
"General Hammond!" he greeted cheerily. "Dinner is almost ready. What do you like on your pizza?"