by Joanne Fluke
“You said you already mixed up the dough at The Cookie Jar. Was that what was in the pan you went back to get from the car?”
“Yes, they’re ready to go!”
Norman began to smile. “And when they come out of the oven, we can eat them?”
“Not quite. When they cool a bit, I’ll make the powdered sugar drizzle and put it on top. Once that hardens, we can dig in.”
“Great! I love your Cinnamon Rolls, Hannah.”
“So do I. I’m going to have to work to limit myself to two.”
“Why would you limit yourself?”
“Because my clothes are beginning to get a little tight. I always gain weight in the winter, and every year I promise myself that I won’t. But then Christmas comes along with all those yummy cookies and candies, and I give up trying to limit myself around the first of December.”
Norman laughed. “I have the same problem. I always gain weight in the winter. I think it has a lot to do with too many good things to eat and not enough exercise. But let’s not talk about that now, especially when you’re going to bake my favorite Cinnamon Rolls for breakfast. But please, Hannah. I don’t want you to work so hard. Please let me fix breakfast for you tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to . . .” Hannah stopped speaking. Norman was sincere about wanting to make breakfast for her, and she should let him know that she appreciated it. “All right, Norman. If you really want to do that, it would be great, and I know that I’m going to enjoy whatever you make.”
“Good!” Norman said, all smiles as he got up from the couch.
Hannah watched while Norman poured himself a glass of ginger ale from the small refrigerator in the den and carried it back to the couch. Norman was such a nice man. She could tell he worried about the fact that she made breakfast for them almost every morning, and he feared it was too much work for her.
“I enjoy fixing breakfast for you, Norman,” she said when he sat back down on the couch again. “It gives me the chance to try out new recipes with someone who loves food almost as much as I do.”
“Maybe more,” Norman told her, and then he reached out to give her a quick hug. “I really like having you here, Hannah. Moishe and Cuddles are happy, I’m happy, and I hope you’re happy, too.”
“I am, but sometimes I feel guilty about taking your master bedroom. Maybe we should switch. I can sleep in the guest room. That way, you can have your bedroom back.”
“There’s no need for that. The guest room is perfectly fine for me.”
“But it doesn’t have a fireplace and I know you love the fireplace. When we designed this house together, you said you’d always wanted a fireplace in your bedroom.”
“That’s true. And I enjoy it in the winter. But, Hannah . . . I like it even more knowing that you’re enjoying it now.”
Hannah gave a deep sigh. “Sometimes I think that you’re too nice for your own good, Norman.”
Norman chuckled. “You’re a fine one to talk! You’re too nice for your own good, too.”
“But you’re nicer than I am!”
“No, I’m not. You’re nicer than me.”
“Absolutely not. You’re the nicest one!”
Norman stared at her for a moment and then he began to laugh. “Are we having our first fight about who’s nicer?”
“We are not fighting about . . .” Hannah stopped speaking as the absurdity of their argument sank in. “Yes. Yes, we are. And if this is the only thing we can find to fight about, our relationship must be in really good shape!”
* * *
It was a lovely dream, a perfect dream, and she didn’t want to wake up. Someone was cuddling her, warming her in the room that had turned cold in the night. She snuggled a little closer, seeking the comfort of a living, breathing person next to her. And that was when she realized that the person giving her so much comfort wasn’t a person at all!
“Moishe,” she said, her voice soft with sleep. “I was wondering if you’d come to bed eventually.”
Her furry friend’s response was a purr, and Hannah smiled up into the darkness. Moishe was happy here. He loved living in Norman’s house with Cuddles. She just wished that she didn’t feel so guilty about commandeering Norman’s master bedroom. She’d felt guilty that she had actually considered taking her best furry friend away from the place he enjoyed so much and moving him back into the condo that had frightened him so dreadfully.
She thought about that for a moment and realized that she also felt frightened about going back to her condo to live. The memories were still too fresh in her mind and they were horrific. His blood on the rug. The sight of his body, the body she’d loved, dead and motionless on the floor. The memory of the last night they’d spent together, his body cradling hers.
Hannah took a deep breath and pushed those memories out of her mind. He was gone. She had loved Ross with all her heart, and that love had been betrayed. She knew that it would take her time to trust her heart again, and the wounds of his betrayal were still too deep to heal. It could be days, months, even years before she could trust anyone that completely again without questioning her judgment and wondering if she was making another mistake.
Her thoughts were not conducive to sleep. It was late and she knew that she had to get up early in the morning. There was baking to do, and The Cookie Jar was swamped with Easter holiday orders.
Suddenly, even though she was very tired, Hannah had a burst of clarity. It wasn’t the next morning’s work that kept her from sleeping. It wasn’t the fact she felt guilty about abusing Norman’s hospitality and taking his bedroom, or the fact she didn’t know if she could ever recover enough to live in the condo again. It was Andrea. She was worried sick about her sister and the fact that Andrea didn’t have an alibi in Mayor Bascomb’s murder.
The moment she thought of it, Hannah opened the drawer in the bedside table and took out a pen and her shorthand notebook. She would start to write in what she called her Murder Book and list the suspects in Mayor Bascomb’s murder. To be entirely fair, she put Andrea’s name on the first page. Of course she didn’t believe, for a nanosecond, that Andrea had killed Mayor Bascomb, but her analytical mind prodded her into listing every suspect that might have a motive. Stephanie Bascomb’s name went on the second page, and the mayor’s nephew, Bruce Bascomb, went on the third. The city council members followed, all six of them who had been outspoken about their dissatisfaction with the job that Mayor Bascomb was doing. Stephanie’s father came next. He hadn’t wanted his daughter to marry Mayor Bascomb in the first place, and he’d been a thorn in the mayor’s side for years. Then there was the mayor’s newest conquest, whoever she might be, and several previous conquests that the Lake Eden Gossip Hotline had named. The former lovers’ husbands came next and, if they were single, any boyfriends they had jilted.
Hannah glanced down at her steno pad and realized that she’d never had so many suspects in a murder case before. There were a lot of people who held grudges against Mayor Bascomb, and those were only the people she knew about. She would probably learn of more suspects who had reasons to wish that their mayor was dead. She’d have to talk to Terry Neilson to find out if Mayor Bascomb had angered any of his constituents by refusing to grant building permits, variances of one type or another, or any other ways the mayor might have angered anyone in Lake Eden.
“Hannah?” There was a light tap on her bedroom door. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, I just can’t sleep,” Hannah said quickly. “You can come in if you want to, Norman.”
A moment later, the door opened and Norman came in. “I saw your light on when I came back upstairs. Would you like me to fix you a cup of hot chocolate or a snack?”
“No, thanks.” Hannah thought again about how kind Norman was. She patted the side of her bed and smiled at him. “If you’re not too tired, sit down and talk to me for a while.”
“If I do, you’ll probably get Cuddles in here, too.”
“That’s okay. It’s a b
ig bed.” Hannah closed her murder book and put it on the bed table. “I was just making a list of suspects in Mayor Bascomb’s murder case.”
“Are there a lot of them?”
“Yes, and I’ve only scratched the surface. I’m going to talk to Terry Neilson to find out who she thinks I’ve missed.”
“Good idea. Terry will know of anyone else who had a grudge against the mayor.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’ve got a long list of suspects so far and I’m sure I missed a few.”
“You probably missed my mother.”
“Your mother?” Hannah was surprised. “Does your mother have a motive?”
“She has plenty of them. About six hundred of them to be exact. According to Mother, Mayor Bascomb and my father had an ongoing feud between the two of them.”
“About what?”
“About the money Mayor Bascomb owed Dad. I didn’t know anything about it, but she told me that the mayor was terribly cheap and he didn’t want to pay his past due dental bill. He told my father that he should write it off as an advertising expense.”
“Advertising?”
“He told my father that because he was the mayor, he was a walking advertisement for the Rhodes Dental Clinic.”
“Good heavens!” Hannah was clearly dumbfounded. “What did your father do?”
“He told my mother and she said not to worry, that she’d collect the bill.”
“And did she?”
“Yes, she went to see the mayor and threatened to tell everybody in town that he’d refused to pay for his new set of dentures.”
“I didn’t know that Mayor Bascomb had dentures.”
“He didn’t. Mother knew that Mayor Bascomb prided himself on his gleaming white teeth. He was very vain about his appearance, and the last thing he wanted was anyone to think that his teeth weren’t natural.”
“So he paid the bill?”
“Oh, yes. He didn’t even argue when Mother charged interest on the past due amount.”
Hannah was amused. “Well, that’s knocks Carrie out as a suspect! I wonder if my mother knows about this.”
“Of course she does. Mother confided in her, and it was your mother’s idea about the dentures.”
Hannah laughed. “Good for Mother! She knows how to take care of problems like that!”
There was a thump as Cuddles jumped up on the bed and took up the position next to Moishe on Hannah’s other pillow. Moishe moved over slightly to give her more room, and Hannah began to smile. “They really are good friends. I can nudge Moishe until the cows come home and he won’t move over for me.”
“Don’t feel alone. Cuddles won’t move over for me, either.”
Almost in tandem, both cats began to purr, and Hannah felt herself relaxing at last. Suddenly, she was so sleepy, her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.
“Sleep, Hannah. They’ll stay with you.” Norman’s voice was soft and she barely felt it when he got up from the side of the bed and left. Then she drifted off to a peaceful sleep, listening to the duet of the purring cat lullaby.
Chapter Eight
Hannah woke up and glanced at the clock. It was almost five in the morning and she felt well rested and ready to start her day. She got out of bed, abandoning her pillow to Moishe, who moved over almost immediately, and went in to take a quick shower. Then minutes later, she was going down the stairs, heading for Norman’s kitchen.
“Let’s get to work,” Hannah said to the cats who’d followed her into the kitchen.
“Rrrrow!” Moishe agreed. And Cuddles rubbed up against her ankles in a gesture that Hannah interpreted as agreement.
“Would you two like me to feed you now?” Hannah asked them, already knowing the answer.
This time both cats meowed. Hannah took that as a unanimous assent and went to the cupboard where Norman kept their cat food. “Tuna? Or salmon?” she asked, and since there was no answering yowl, she decided for them and opened a can of tuna.
When Cuddles and Moishe were wolfing down their food in obvious enjoyment, Hannah turned on the coffeepot and sneaked a cup out before the carafe was fully filled. Then she sat down at the kitchen table to reread her recipe for Cinnamon Rolls and Powdered Sugar Drizzle.
It wouldn’t take long for the rolls to warm and begin to rise. When they’d almost achieved the size she needed, she hurried to preheat the oven. By the time it came up to temperature, her rolls were ready and she slipped them into the oven.
Hannah set the oven timer, had a couple more sips of bracing coffee, and opened the bag she’d set inside Norman’s pantry. She took out the amount of powdered sugar she’d measured and went to Norman’s refrigerator to get the milk and salted butter she’d brought with her.
The Powdered Sugar Drizzle was easy to make and once Hannah had mixed it to the proper consistency, she transferred it from the bowl and covered it with plastic wrap so that the drizzle wouldn’t dry out, and went back to the table to wait for the rolls to come out of the oven.
Her Cinnamon Roll recipe was the easiest breakfast roll she’d ever made, and her early-morning customers at The Cookie Jar loved them. Almost everyone in Lake Eden loved breakfast sweet rolls, and everyone was delighted when Hannah, or Lisa, or Aunt Nancy made them. Just thinking about Aunt Nancy brought up a problem Hannah had yet to solve. Lisa’s aunt had asked them to cater her wedding reception when she married her long-time friend, Heiti, in June. It was early days still, but perhaps it was time to start thinking about what they should serve at the wedding reception.
Too much on your plate right now, her rational mind warned. Don’t think about it. Deal with solving Mayor Bascomb’s murder case first.
It was good advice, and Hannah decided to take it. She opened her murder book and paged through it, when Norman came into the kitchen.
“Something smells good!” he said. “What time did you get up, Hannah? I was going to let you sleep until the last minute, take you out to breakfast at the Corner Tavern, and tell you to take your Cinnamon Rolls to The Cookie Jar to bake for your customers.”
“Too late,” Hannah told him, getting up as the stove timer rang. I slept until five and I really wanted to bake these for you.” She grabbed pot holders, removed the pan of Cinnamon Rolls from the oven, and set them on a cold stovetop burner to cool.
“I can’t say I’m sorry you baked them,” Norman told her, coming over to look at the rolls. “They’re beautiful, Hannah.”
“They’ll be even prettier when I put on the drizzle,” Hannah told him, hurrying to the coffeepot to pour Norman a cup. “Sit down and have some coffee with me while the rolls cool for ten minutes. Then I can frost them and we can eat them.”
“Thank you, Hannah,” Norman said when she delivered his coffee. “I can’t believe you set your alarm for that early.”
“I didn’t set it,” Hannah told him. “I woke up on my own and I felt so good, I decided to get dressed and come down here to bake. Baking clears my head, Norman, and it also relaxes me.”
“I know. And I’m appreciative, believe me. Those rolls are smelling better and better as they cool. How long until we can eat them, Hannah?”
Hannah glanced at the clock on Norman’s kitchen wall. “About fifteen minutes. Then you can have one without burning your mouth.”
“All right. I think I can wait that long,” Norman said. He took a sip of coffee and looked over at the murder book that Hannah had brought down from the master bedroom. “Were you writing down more murder suspects?” he asked.
“Not yet. I was too busy thinking about all the things I needed to do today. And, of course, I’m worried about Andrea.”
“I know you are,” Norman responded, reaching out to pat her hand. “Try not to worry too much. It’ll only keep you from thinking clearly.”
“Easy for you to say!” Hannah shot back, and then she gave him a smile to let him know that she was partially kidding. “Andrea’s not your sister.”
“No, but she’s my friend. And I’m co
ncerned about her, too. Do you want to go over your suspect list with me now?”
Hannah shook her head. “Not right now. I’ve got about half a minute before it’s time to frost. . . .” She stopped speaking as the stove timer rang. “It’s time,” she said, jumping up from the table. “I hope they’ll be good. I’ve never put this kind of dough in the refrigerator to rise before.”
“I’m sure they’ll be good,” Norman told her. “Just smelling them is making me as hungry as a bear.”
Hannah laughed. “You sound like Mike. Just hang on for a couple of minutes, Norman. I promise I’ll bring some to the table the second they cool enough to eat.” She touched one of the rolls and frowned. “They’re still a little too hot to frost. Shall I put on another pot of coffee, Norman?”
“That would be fine with me!” Norman answered immediately. “You want more coffee, don’t you?”
“I do. It looks like there’s about”—Hannah turned to look at the coffeemaker again—“about a half-cup left. Do you want to split it?”
Norman smiled. “That’s perfect. I’ll get it, Hannah. You take a quarter and I’ll take a quarter. It’ll keep us going until we have another full pot. I’ll get it while you do whatever you have to do with the rolls.”
“But I can . . .”
“Hannah,” Norman interrupted her. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine. I like to help you in the kitchen. You should know that by now. You don’t have to wait on me. That’s something I don’t expect and I don’t want. I’d much rather do things together, okay?”
“Okay,” Hannah said quickly, hoping that Norman wouldn’t notice that she was tearing up just a bit. She was used to Michelle helping her, and Lisa and Aunt Nancy helping her at The Cookie Jar, but she wasn’t used to working with a man in the kitchen. Ross hadn’t offered to help her with anything. And perhaps that was one of the big differences between Ross and Norman.
* * *
“Do you want me to drop you off at The Cookie Jar?”
Hannah turned to Norman in surprise. “Thanks, but I’d rather get my truck now, if that’s okay. I plugged it in at Mother’s yesterday, so it should start just fine.”
