by Joanne Fluke
The woman who’d told her how to get to this train station had been entirely correct. The train station was bustling with people going in and coming out. It was definitely a commuter hub and she moved to the right of the sidewalk to join the people who were entering the station so that the people who were going to work would have the other half of the walkway.
Once she got inside the station, she was surprised at how large it was with its cavernous ceilings and huge expanse of polished stone flooring that was peppered with benches for those who were waiting for trains. There were multiple windows with grates behind them for the ticket sellers, and some had signs identifying commuter windows. Other windows had no signs and she assumed that they were intended for passengers who were buying tickets for longer distances.
The line she chose had only seven people in front of her and she felt exposed to hundreds of eyes by standing at the rear. The feeling lasted only a moment or two because a man rushed up and got into line behind her.
“Out of state?” he asked her.
For a moment she was confused. Was he asking her if she was from out of state, or was asking her if this was the line to buy out-of-state tickets?
He repeated his question and she decided to take a chance on the latter choice. “I hope it’s for out-of-state tickets,” she told him. “There’s no commuter sign above this window.”
“Hold my place and I’ll find out. I’ve never been in this station before.”
She watched nervously as he left the line, but he was only going to a station guard in a uniform who was standing near a row of rental lockers. If he had been one of her bosses’ men who’d recognized her and was going for help, he certainly wouldn’t be talking to a station guard!
She observed the silent tableau since she was too far away to hear their conversation. After they’d spoken for a few moments, he nodded to the guard and hurried back to her.
“We’re in luck,” he told her. “It’s actually the next line over, but the guard told me they sell out-of-state tickets here, too. Where are you going?”
“California,” she replied quickly. “I’m going to visit my husband’s aunt.”
“It’s Michigan for me,” he said. “I just got a job in Detroit.”
The man was pleasant and they passed the time in line by chatting about the weather in New York until she reached the window. Then she opened her handbag and drew out her wallet.
“One ticket to Los Angeles, please,” she told the ticket agent.
“Coach or first class?” he asked her.
“Coach,” she said. And when he told her the price, she removed the money from her purse and slid it under the grate. He pushed her ticket and her change out to her through the grate, she dropped the change in her purse and said, “Thank you.”
The whole transaction had taken no more than thirty seconds, but she found that her hands were shaking as she left the window. She turned to give a little wave to the man behind her, and then she walked away toward the benches along the wall.
She looked around her and felt a bit relieved as she noticed that no one was watching her. She was just another passenger who’d bought a ticket.
She spotted a newspaper stand in the corner and crossed to it, choosing a popular New York paper from the rack and handing the clerk the correct change. Then she located her gate where people were already standing in line, tucked the newspaper under her arm, and joined them.
The loudspeaker burst into life with a completely unintelligible list of stops, but she didn’t bother listening for her destination. The number of the gate was printed on her ticket and it also listed the time of departure. According to the huge clock on the wall above the gates, she had only ten minutes to wait before she could board her train.
The minutes passed slowly. She watched for anyone who appeared to be observing her and found, to her relief, that no one was. The train must have been on time, because the line began to move forward in exactly ten minutes. As she followed her fellow travelers out of the station and onto the platform that bordered the tracks, she told herself that her ordeal was nearly over and she was almost safe.
There were several trains waiting for their passengers to board, and the sound was deafening as one train pulled forward and accelerated away from the station. The engineer blew the whistle and she had to fight the urge to cover her ears. No one around her seemed to mind the noise of the revving engines, blaring whistles, and loud speakers cautioning passengers not to get too close to the edges of the platform. They must all be used to the cacophony of sound and she didn’t want to be the only passenger to approach her train with her hands clamped over her ears.
It was windy on the platform and a sudden breeze blew her raincoat open as she was about to board. The porter motioned to another porter, who gestured for her to come with him.
“The platform slopes up near the front of the train and it’s easier to board there,” he told her. “I’m working this train and I’ll help to get you on board.”
“Thank you, but I’m back in coach,” she told him. “The front cars are reserved for first class, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but I’m going to take you through to the club car, where you can relax. We have nice chairs and sofas in there.”
“But isn’t the club car just for first class?”
“Yes, but I won’t tell if you won’t tell. Train travel’s not easy in your condition. My kids are all grown now, but I still remember how miserable my wife was with our first when we went back on the train to visit her mother.”
“I . . . I don’t know how to thank you enough,” she said, fumbling for words.
“No need. I’m in first class on this trip and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
* * *
“She really lucked out with that porter!” Lisa said as Hannah stopped reading and closed Essie’s notebook.
“You bet she did,” Michelle echoed her sentiment.
“Is it time for dessert?” Delores asked, standing up from her favorite chair.
“It is.” Hannah put the notebook back on the end table. “I’ll take the cake out of the refrigerator and slice it.”
“I’ll get out the dessert plates and forks for you,” Lisa offered.
“And I’ll make the coffee,” Delores promised.
“What shall I do?” Michelle asked. “There’s nothing left for me to . . .” She stopped and smiled. “I know! I’ll get out the coffee cups, sugar, creamer, and spoons.”
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to taste that cake,” Hannah said. “I hope we’re not disappointed. It’s the first time I’ve baked it and I modified the recipe a little.”
“We’ll let you know, but I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Delores told her. “Everything you bake is fabulous, dear.”
ULTIMATE LEMON BUNDT CAKE
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
4 large eggs
½ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup water
¼ cup lemon juice
8-ounce (by weight) tub of sour cream (I used Knudsen)
box of Lemon Cake Mix, the kind that makes a 9-inch by 13-inch cake or a 2-layer cake (I used Duncan Hines Lemon Supreme)
5.1-ounce package of DRY instant lemon pudding and pie filling (I used Jell-O)
12-ounce (by weight) bag of white chocolate or vanilla baking chips (11-ounce package will do, too—I used Nestlé)
Prepare your cake pan. You’ll need a Bundt pan that has been sprayed with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray and then floured. To flour a pan, put some flour in the bottom, hold it over your kitchen wastebasket, and tap the pan to move the flour all over the inside of the pan. Continue this until all the inside surfaces of the pan, including the sides of the crater in the center, have been covered with a light coating of flour.
Crack the eggs into the bowl of an electric mixer. Mix them up on LOW speed until they’re a uniform color.
Pour in the half-cup of vegetable oil
and mix it in with the eggs on LOW speed.
Add the quarter-cup of water and the quarter-cup of lemon juice. Mix them in at LOW speed.
Scoop out the container of sour cream and add the sour cream to your bowl. Mix that in on LOW speed.
When everything is well combined, open the box of dry cake mix and sprinkle it on top of the liquid ingredients in the bowl of the mixer. Mix that in on LOW speed.
Open the package of instant lemon pudding and pie filling and sprinkle in the contents. Mix it in on LOW speed.
Shut off the mixer, scrape down the sides of the bowl, remove it from the mixer, and set it on the counter.
If you have a food processor, put in the steel blade and pour in the white chocolate or vanilla baking chips. Process in an on-and-off motion to chop them in smaller pieces. (You can also do this with a knife on a cutting board if you don’t have a food processor.)
Sprinkle the white chocolate or baking chips in your bowl and stir them in by hand with a rubber spatula.
Hannah’s 1st Note: Florence, down at the Lake Eden Red Owl Grocery, carries mini semi-sweet chocolate chips, but she can’t get any other flavor of chips in a mini version and she doesn’t even think anyone makes them. The regular-size chips are larger and heavier than the mini version, and they will sink down to the bottom of your Bundt pan if you don’t chop them into smaller pieces.
Use the rubber spatula to transfer the cake batter to the prepared Bundt pan.
Smooth the top of your cake with the spatula and put it into the center of your preheated oven.
Bake your Ultimate Lemon Bundt Cake at 350 degrees F. for 55 minutes.
Before you take your cake out of the oven, test it for doneness by inserting a cake tester, thin wooden skewer, or long toothpick. Insert it midway between the outside edges of the pan and the metal protrusion that makes the crater in the center of the pan. If the tester comes out clean, your cake is done. If there is still uncooked batter clinging to the tester, bake your cake longer until the tester comes out clean.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: The Bundt pan was invented by a man from Minnesota so that it would be easier to cut uniform slices of cake. The crater in the center is there so that the cake will bake evenly all around.
Once your cake is done, take it out of the oven and set it on a cold stove burner or a wire rack. Let it cool in the pan for 20 minutes and then pull the sides of the cake away from the pan with the tips of your impeccably clean fingers. Don’t forget to do the same for the sides of the crater in the middle.
Tip the Bundt pan upside down on a platter and drop it gently on a folded towel on the kitchen counter. Do this until the cake falls out of the pan and rests on the platter.
Cover your Ultimate Lemon Bundt Cake loosely with foil and refrigerate it for at least one hour. Overnight is even better.
Frost your cake with Cool Whip Lemon Frosting. (Recipe and instructions follow.)
Yield: At least 10 pieces of sweet and tangy lemon cake. Serve with tall glasses of ice-cold milk or cups of strong coffee.
COOL WHIP LEMON FROSTING
This recipe is made in the microwave.
1 heaping cup (6 to 7 ounces by weight) of white chocolate or vanilla baking chips (I used Nestlé)
1 ripe lemon large enough to produce ½ teaspoon lemon zest (just the yellow part of the peel, finely grated) and ¼ cup lemon juice
8-ounce (by weight) tub of FROZEN Cool Whip (Do not thaw! Leave in the freezer.)
Hannah’s 1st Note: Make sure you use the original Cool Whip, not the sugar free or the real whipped cream.
Start by chopping your white chocolate or vanilla baking chips into smaller pieces or placing the chips in a food processor with the steel blade and processing in an on-and-off motion to chop the chips into smaller pieces.
If you haven’t done so already, zest your lemon and measure out ½ teaspoon of zest.
Juice your zested lemon and measure out ¼ cup (4 Tablespoons) of lemon juice.
Place the Cool Whip in a microwave-safe bowl.
Add the white chocolate or vanilla baking chips to the bowl.
Sprinkle the lemon zest on top of the chips.
Drizzle the lemon juice on top of the zest.
Stir everything up with a heat-resistant rubber spatula.
Microwave the contents of the bowl on HIGH for 1 minute and then let it sit in the microwave for an additional minute.
Take the bowl out of the microwave. Stir to see if the chips are melted. If they’re not, heat them in 30-second intervals with 30-second standing times on HIGH in the microwave until you succeed in melting the chips.
Once the chips are melted, let the bowl sit on the countertop or on a cold burner for 15 minutes to thicken the icing.
When the time is up, give the bowl a stir and remove your cake from the refrigerator. Frost your Ultimate Lemon Bundt Cake with the frosting and don’t forget the sides of the crater in the middle. You don’t need to frost all the way down to the bottom of the crater. That’s almost impossible. Just frost an inch or so down the sides of the crater.
Return your cake to the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before cutting it and serving it to your guests.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: You can also use this icing on cookies. Simply frost and let your cookies sit on wax paper on the kitchen counter until the frosting has set and is dry to the touch.
Yield: This frosting will frost a batch of cookies, a 9-inch by 13-inch cake, a Bundt cake, or a round two-tier layer cake.
Chapter Nine
For the second morning in a row, Hannah woke up energized and eager to start her day. She smiled as she got out of bed and pulled on her slippers and robe. She walked to the window, pushed aside the curtains, and looked out on a morning that matched her mood.
The sun was just rising over the steeple of Holy Cross Redeemer Lutheran Church and it bathed the streets of Lake Eden in a pale golden glow. The church sat on top of a hill and Hannah’s new business rental, the eventual home of her bakery and coffee shop, was only a few blocks from her mother’s house. Her new bakery was opposite the church, only one block down the hill, and centrally located on Main Street. She was looking forward to going there alone to test out the appliances and revel in the fact that her dream was about to become a reality.
Hannah hurried through her shower. She could hardly wait to dress, fix breakfast for Michelle and Delores, and then walk to her new place of business. She anticipated the thrill she’d feel at unlocking the door for the first time with the key Al Percy had given her. Once she stepped inside the main room, she would stand there for a moment, imagining the transformation that would take place. There would be more tables and chairs, and a fresh coat of paint in a color she hadn’t yet chosen. Perhaps she’d leave that up to Andrea and Delores since they were more artistic than she was. The scene she imagined seemed so real, she could almost see herself standing behind the counter pouring hot, fresh coffee for her customers as they munched on the cookies she’d baked that morning.
This would be a daunting project to tackle alone, but she would have lots of help. Andrea had a real talent for interior design, Michelle had a gift for devising practical solutions to complex problems, and their mother could find amazing buys on all sorts of items that Hannah would need for her business. She would ask her whole family to help her spruce up the bakery and make it into a popular, friendly place.
Hannah stood there by the side of the bed, visualizing the interior of The Cookie Jar. Perhaps she should order aprons with the name of her business embroidered on the bib. The aprons should be forest green. She looked good in forest green. And the embroidery should be in bright red, her favorite color and one that, unfortunately, clashed with her curly red hair. There were other personalized items she needed, too. She’d have paper napkins, forest green and white striped, with the name of her business printed in red, bakery boxes designed and manufactured especially for The Cookie Jar, and signature coffee mugs with the name of her business printed on them in brigh
t red. She should also have disposable to-go cups that identified her business for customers who stopped by for takeout coffee, and personalized paper bags, both in small size and medium for local business owners who dropped in to take their coffee and cookies to work with them. Then there were individual creamers, and sugars, and sugar substitutes, and . . .
Hannah gave a little laugh at the turn her thoughts were taking. She was being a prime example of the phrase her great-grandmother Elsa Swensen had used to refer to anyone who was getting ahead of himself. If Great-Grandma were here right now, she’d accuse Hannah of putting the cart before the horse. There was a lot of work to be done before she could even consider ordering personalized items for The Cookie Jar. Her immediate concern should be what to fix for breakfast this morning.
Now that she had stopped daydreaming in lieu of practical matters, Hannah hurried to finish dressing, visions of pancakes, French toast, and other breakfast dishes flitting through her mind. By the time she’d made her bed, walked down the stairs, and reached the kitchen, she knew exactly what to make for their first meal of the day. They would have Bacon and Sausage Breakfast Burritos.
The first thing Hannah did was put on the coffee. Cooking took concentration, and she needed the caffeine to wake her up completely. The moment the coffee began to fill the carafe under her mother’s coffeemaker, Hannah jerked the carafe away and replaced it with a cup. When the cup was full, she removed it and replaced it with the carafe again. Then she sat down at her mother’s kitchen table and took her first sip.
