It was the day before the annual autumn feast, and Raccoon’s kitchen was a sweet-smelling shambles.
She had offered to make all the pies for the feast, and for breakfast the next day. There would be seven different kinds — walnut, acorn, pumpkin, apple, fudge, lemon, and chocolate-chip pecan — plus mountains of whipped cream.
But right now, there were stacks of dirty bowls in the sink and flour covering the counter where she’d rolled out enough pastry dough for all seven pies. And she had even run out of butter halfway through the day and had to ask Crow to fetch more.
Fortunately, Squirrel had said he would stop by in the evening for coffee, and to help with the dishes.
(Late November 2023)