Read Cookie Cutter for Free Online Page B

those cookies she had at the school earlier. I inhale and hum the air out.
    “Any chance I’m gonna get one this time, Iris?”
    It’s just us standing there suddenly, without three elderly women who seem like they’re itching to break into wolf whistles at any moment. There’s something behind Iris’s eyes as we’re staring at each other and I await my answer. The same something that was there earlier today. Like she’s lost or lost in thought about something. The air thickens for a minute. Beatrice suddenly giggles beside me.
    “I think Carter needs to stay and play cards tonight, don’t you, Cynthia?”
    “Oh, I think I agree, Beatrice, how about you Patricia?”
    “I definitely think Carter should make himself at home, Cynthia.”
    The three of them resemble precocious children, with their bright eyes and huge smiles. I’m putting a theory about them together in my mind when Iris blurts out a resounding, “I don’t think so.”
    There’s finality in her actions as she turns her back to me and fiddles with the tray. Her tone is cold and quite frankly, I’m not the only one taken aback by it.
    The four of us gape at her, waiting for an explanation.
    Iris’s lids flutter a few million times, attempting Morse code with them while trying to come up with a good enough reason for me not to stay.
    “I mean—” She laughs it off, shuffling the plate of cookies from place to place on the card table.
    I take one. Iris watches me as I bite into it and I try not to let on that it is perhaps the best fucking sugar cookie I’ve had in my entire life. Damn she knows how to bake.
    “I’m sure Mr. Blackwood has--”
    “Carter.”
    “--things he needs to go do.”
    I shove the remaining cookie into my mouth while I ponder what she said, the way she said it and how her eyes immediately divert themselves from me when she’s done with her proclamation. I chew slow as I tick off the many things I need to get done over at the house. Painting some trim, sanding the dried spackle on the walls, screwing those damn closet doors into place. None of which sound nearly as enticing as watching Iris Alden try to act like she’s fine with me being here for the rest of the night. After I swallow, I slap my hands together to get the crumbs off. Then I shrug. “I don’t have anything going on right now.”
    “Well, we can’t play Euchre with five people.” She fidgets, inspecting a fingernail and I’m already loaded with a retaliation.
    “You can play poker with five people.”
    In a flash her eyes are on me and I’m triumphant. I know it.
    “Oh, poker,” Beatrice says and claps. “I remember poker.”
    “We don’t play poker, Beatrice.” Iris purses her lips together like she’s the designated schoolmarm.
    “Why not?” Cynthia waits for her answer, impatiently.
    “Because,” Iris says.
    Good come back, Iris.
    “Because why?” I beat Cynthia to the punch and cross my arms. This is fun.
    “Be—” She’s working hard to come up with something, anything but, just as I suspected, she’s got nothin’.
    “Oh for Christ’s sake, let him stay, Iris.”
    “It’s my house and I say he stays.” Cynthia tilts her chin and curls her brow. When she turns to me, her expression is softer, younger even. “You’ll stay, won’t you Carter?  I mean despite Iris’s rude behavior, we’re actually quite fun.”
    And oh, I’m staying. I smile wide because this is getting good. “Now, how can I turn down an offer like that, Cynthia?”
    Beatrice squeals next to me, pointing her index finger into the air. “I’ll get the drinks!”
    Iris munches on her cookie. Her eyes seem distant, as though she’s contemplating her next move. I take the opportunity of the chaos around us to snag another treat for myself. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother me that it seems to bother her that I’m eating her cookies. Or that I seem to bother her in general. I just can’t figure out why.
    “So tell me something Iris, what