One Preoccupied by troubling news, Cassandra accidentally broiled a batch of cookies. She didn't realize her error until after she'd corralled all four of her young sons into a corner of their backyard, away from the assured danger the smoke alarm proclaimed. In the midst of their huddle, it struck her: the problem wasn't in the oven. Once again, the problem was her. The commotion caused her neighbor, outside hanging clothes on the line, to stick her head over the fence. "We're all out!" Cassandra hollered through the blare. "But if you could come over for a minute and watch the kids while I run back in and check something, I'd sure appreciate it!" Glenda popped the latch on the gate and flew through the opening. Cassandra passed eleven-month-old Bradley from her hip to Glenda's, who wrapped her arm around his chunky waist. With her free arm-and the focused eyes of a herding dog-Glenda set to work funneling the rest of the boys through the gate into her yard, where they turned and stared at their crazed mommy. "MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T GO BACK IN THERE!" Glenda wailed as she watched Cassandra's backside disappear into her house, startling Bradley into panicked screaming. Within a few moments, Cassandra reappeared through the back door, coughing, a charbroiled cookie tray filled with black smoking wads held at arm's length in front of her. She looked angry as she hurled the whole mess, red plaid oven glove and all, to the ground. "CAN YOU KEEP THE KIDS A LITTLE LONGER?" she screamed over the sounds of the alarm. Glenda nodded. "I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" Shortly after she reentered the house, a fierce pounding, loud enough to rival that of the smoke alarm, radiated through the open back door. Inside, wildly swinging the broom handle, Cassandra beat the ear piercing alarm until it careened off the ceiling, thankfully crash-landing with a silencing thud. Glenda and the kids-plus the neighbor across the street who'd wandered over-watched as one window in the house after another flew open. Each time, Cassandra stuck her head out and yelled, "I'M FINE! EVERYTHING'S OKAY! I'LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE, BOYS." The way she swiftly appeared and disappeared in and out of the windows, her red hair flying this way and that, reminded six-year-old Chuck, Cassandra's oldest, of that Bop 'em Sock 'em machine at the Pizza Party House, the game where every time you pounded that crazed-looking animal's furry head, it popped up someplace else. When his mom's head next popped out the bathroom window, he broke into a fit of giggles. Chuck's laughter struck Bradley so funny that he finally stopped crying, sniffled, wrinkled up his nose, snorted, and started laughing, setting off the other two boys. They were all still giggling when Cassandra, huffing and puffing, finally trudged up beside them. "So you think this is funny, huh, boys?" she asked, grin on her face, hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. She raised an eyebrow at Glenda, whom she could tell was biting her tongue to suppress her own laughter. "Wait till Dad hears this !" Chuck said, doubling over and holding his side. Cassandra knew there was no point asking Chuck not to tell Ken, for two reasons: honesty, which they always preached in their family, and the fact that the house would no doubt smell like smoke for days, if not weeks. Plus, if she couldn't laugh at herself, she was doomed. Thankfully, a warm fall breeze blew through southeastern Minnesota that day. The house could remain open to air out, and it wasn't too cold for the kids to be stranded outdoors without their coats. "Were the cookies on f Excerpted from Stray Affections by Charlene Ann Baumbich All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.