There was a reason Lou liked baking. She had a terrible sweet-tooth, one that made the promise of hot chocolate practically gleeful. "There's no age limit when it comes to marshmallows," she teasingly admonished, noting how he added some to his own. Of course, teasing him didn't impede her from adding marshmallows to her own mug and taking a sip between words. It was good and helped to warm her up.
She laughed aloud at the idea of her as some bakery Santa Claus. "Does this mean I have to start dressing in red?" Then her face twisted, perplexed and teasingly not liking the mental image, "And grow a white beard? Because I think that may be where I draw the line." She talked while she opened the lid of the basket so he could see for himself.
There were another two pans of the week's project, a legion of various muffins she'd made up this morning, a white bag full of snicker doodles, and even a carefully packed apple pie. It had been a neat trick making it all fit securely, but she had experience with that kind of thing. "Good enough?"