by Joanne Fluke
“Really?” Hannah had asked, wondering which phrase Bonnie would use to substantiate her claim.
“This is why I think so.” Bonnie had flipped to a page in the book. “Her comportment was so charming, all who encountered her smiled with delight. Your mother once told me that my manners were charming and some other members of our Regency Romance Club could take a lesson from me.”
Earl Flensburg had been the next one to approach Hannah. Once they were alone at the back of the library, he’d said, “Your mother made me the Duke of Oakwood, Hannah.”
“Really?” Hannah had asked, waiting for him to read the salient phrase to her.
“Just listen to this…It was at this moment that a gentleman on horseback appeared, riding neck-or-nothing toward the disastrous event that was about to occur. He leaned dangerously low in the saddle and snatched the young boy from the jaws of certain disaster.” Earl stopped reading and turned to her. “You see what I mean, Hannah?”
“You think Mother’s describing you,” Hannah had said, knowing that she was right.
“Of course. She must have remembered our senior class picnic. We held it out at Ehrenberg’s farm, and a couple of us brought our horses. I did a little trick riding for the girls.”
“Amazing,” Hannah had commented, wondering how many times she could listen to the same assumptions without laughing.
The last two candidates for starring roles in her mother’s romance were Al Percy and Cyril Murphy. Al thought The Duke of Oakwood was a fine figure of a man, dressed in exquisitely tailored clothing referred to him, since Delores had complimented him on the new suit he’d worn at the last church supper. Cyril had a different take on the end of the same paragraph Al had used. He thought that He leaned against the garden wall in a relaxed pose, presenting a handsome profile must refer to him since Delores had once said he had a very distinctive profile.
“Hannah?” her mother hailed her from across the room and Hannah hurried to the table Marge had set up for the book signing. There was a nice-looking, rail-thin, well-dressed woman standing at her mother’s side and Hannah was almost certain she’d never seen her before.
“Yes, Mother?” Hannah arrived a bit breathless.
“I’d like you to meet the woman who’s been such a great help to me.” Delores smiled up at the stranger, the stranger smiled back, and then Delores motioned Hannah closer. “This is Doctor Love,” she said in a whisper.
“Call me Nancy,” Doctor Love said, giving Hannah a friendly smile. “I’m here incognito.”
“Hi, Nancy,” Hannah said, smiling back.
“I came to get a copy of your mother’s book. I’ve only had time to page through it, but it looks marvelous and I do love a good romance. I plan to mention it on the air tomorrow if you’d like to listen.”
“That’s very kind of you!” Delores looked completely delighted.
“The world needs more romance and I’m eager to run home and delve into yours. Tell me, Delores. Are your characters based on real people?”
“Somewhat,” Delores said, “but not entirely.”
“Good answer!” Nancy reached out to pat Delores’s shoulder. “I’m willing to bet that most of the men in this room think they’re the hero, and most of the women think they’re the heroine.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said. “At least a half-dozen people have already pulled me aside to read me passages from Mother’s book and tell me they know they’re the main character.”
Nancy laughed. “Just as I thought! Keep your eyes open, Hannah. If you find a man who doesn’t think he’s the hero, grab him and give him a hug because he’s the only realist in the bunch!”
Another fifteen minutes passed and four more people pulled Hannah aside to tell her that they knew they were Melissa or the Duke of Oakwood and read her the appropriate passage to prove it. She was just about convinced that there wasn’t a realist in the room when Norman walked up.
“Hi, Norman.” Hannah held out her tray. “Would you care for a cream puff?”
“Not right now, thanks. I just wanted to catch you alone and tell you how good you look.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” Norman held up his copy of A Match for Melissa. “You know, this is a pretty good book.”
“Mother will be glad to hear that you think so,” Hannah said politely. And then she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think she modeled the Duke of Oakwood after you?”
“After me?” Norman looked absolutely astounded. “What are you talking about, Hannah? I’m not tall, dark, and handsome, I don’t ride well, and I’ve never had a whole line of women praying that I’ll ask them to dance. The Duke of Oakwood is about as far from my character as you can get.”
Hannah smiled in delight. If Doctor Love was right, Norman was the only realist in the room. But he was selling himself short and there was something she could do about that.
“Maybe that’s true,” she said, “but I’m almost sure that Mother modeled every single one of the duke’s good qualities after you.” And then she set down her tray and hugged him.
Index of Recipes
Pistachio Winks
Chocolate Chip Mega Cookies
Minty Melts
Chocolate Dip
Lazy Potato Pancakes
Cherry, Blueberry, and Apricot Sauces
Mini Cheeseburger Cookies
Hannah’s Very Best Cream Puffs
Emmy’s Vanilla Custard
Great-Grandma’s Chocolate Pudding
Brownies Plus
Terry’s Carrot Cake Cookies
Terry’s Cream Cheese Frosting
Candy Bar Bar Cookies
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Cookies
Mocha Icing
Blueberry Crunch Cookies
Guilt-Free Parfait
Norman’s Egg Salad
Bonnie Brownie Cookie Bars
Triplet Chiplet Cookies
Lois Brown’s Lemon Cookies
Baking Conversion Chart
These conversions are approximate, but they’ll work just fine for Hannah Swensen’s recipes.
VOLUME:
U.S.
Metric
1/2 teaspoon
2 milliliters
1 teaspoon
5 milliliters
1 tablespoon
15 milliliters
1/4 cup
50 milliliters
1/3 cup
75 milliliters
1/2 cup
125 milliliters
3/4 cup
175 milliliters
1 cup
1/4 liter
WEIGHT:
U.S.
Metric
1 ounce
28 grams
1 pound
454 grams
OVEN TEMPERATURE:
Degrees
Fahrenheit
Degrees
Centigrade
British (Regulo)
Gas Mark
325 degrees F.
165 degrees C.
3
350 degrees F.
175 degrees C.
4
375 degrees F.
190 degrees C.
5
Note: Hannah’s rectangular sheet cake pan, 9 inches by 13 inches, is approximately 23 centimeters by 32.5 centimeters.
It’s June in Lake Eden, Minnesota, and for Hannah Swensen, that means bridal showers galore, plus a massive fund-raising event in need of confections—not to mention a killer who never learned that charity begins at home…
Early summer brings plenty of work for Hannah, even before Mayor Bascomb’s wife drops by The Cookie Jar to place an order…for eleven hundred cookies! Stephanie Bascomb is organizing an elaborate three-day event to support local charities, and though it’s a worthy cause, Hannah almost flips when her business partner, Lisa, suggests setting up an apple turnover stand. Hannah’s never made a turnover—but, pushover that she is, she places her faith in Lisa’s
mother-in-law’s recipe and agrees to be a magician’s assistant in the fundraiser’s talent show…
Dozens of pastries and one hideous purple dress later, Hannah has to admit that stepping out of her comfort zone has been fun as well as profitable. The only snag is the show’s host, community college professor Bradford Ramsey. Hannah and her younger sister Michelle each had unfortunate romantic relationships with Ramsey, and when the cad comes sniffing around between acts, Hannah tells him off. But when the curtain doesn’t go up, she discovers Ramsey backstage—dead as a doornail with a turnover in his hand…
Now, to protect her reputation and Michelle’s, Hannah must get to the bottom of the professor’s bitter end. There are plenty of scorned suspects, including an ex-wife who feels cheated in more ways than one, and a prominent local who may have been using Ramsey to avenge her own randy spouse. But who was unstable enough to snuff out Professor Love? A killer who’s flakier than puff pastry—and far more dangerous…
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of APPLE TURNOVER MURDER coming next month!
Hannah was clapping right along with the rest of the audience to the beat of Kenny Kowalski’s all-girl accordian band when Herb tapped her on the shoulder.
“We’d better go,” he said. “There’s only one act after this, and then we’re up.”
Hannah slid out of the row. She’d taken the seat on the aisle so that she wouldn’t have to climb over people’s knees and feet. Herb was jumping the gun a bit. The Larsen sisters were up next and they always sang two encores. He was probably nervous and wanted to take a little time to calm down after he’d donned the clothing and persona of the magician The Amazing Herb.
The women’s backstage dressing room was deserted. It didn’t take Hannah long to get into her magician’s assistant costume, especially since she didn’t stop to put on makeup or primp in the wide horizontal mirror that was illuminated by the standard line of lightbulbs running above the glass. She stepped out of the room, crossed the backstage floor, and was waiting for Herb in the wings when she heard a familiar and very unwelcome voice.
“Hello, Hannah.”
She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing there. It was Bradford Ramsey, the last person she wanted to see. Of course it wasn’t unusual that he was here. Professor Ramsey, as he called himself now, had volunteered to act as master of ceremonies for the talent show that Stephanie Bascomb had arranged to kick off her three-day gala charity event.
“I’ve missed you, Hannah,” Bradford said, standing much too close. “I miss those days with you in my class…or maybe I should say I miss those nights. We had some fun back then, didn’t we?”
The hair on the back of Hannah’s neck bristled. “I don’t miss anything about it,” she said, brushing past him to wait for Herb in another spot as far away from her former lover as she could get.
Hannah took a deep breath as the curtain went up. It was showtime. She smiled as she handed The Amazing Herb doves in cages, colorful scarves, and collapsible flowers in full bloom. She may have seemed attentive to the audience, but only half of her mind was on their act. Bradford had mentioned their nights together. She didn’t think he’d said anything about their former relationship to anyone else, but she expected that he would eventually. When he did, her name would be mud with her friends, her family, and the two men she was dating.
In what seemed like mere seconds to Hannah, they arrived at the finale of their act. Herb explained the feat he was about to perform, and there were gasps of shock from the audience. Hannah felt a bit like gasping, too. She had to focus. The Cabinet of Death could be dangerous, possibly even lethal if she lost her concentration.
The audience was silent as Hannah stepped into the cabinet. Bradford had upset her so much she was still shaking, but that actually worked in her favor, convincing everyone who watched that Hannah was truly afraid for her life. She stood there trembling but smiling bravely as The Amazing Herb opened his case of wicked-looking knives with blades long enough to go all the way through the cabinet. Of course everyone knew it was an act, a trick of some sort. Their conscious minds knew that Hannah wouldn’t actually be impaled alive, but Herb was an expert at building suspense, and Hannah was willing to bet that more than a few audience members would avert their eyes when he closed the cabinet door and started to insert the long, sharp blades.
The moment that Herb shut the coffinlike door, Hannah got into the position clearly marked on the inside of the cabinet, the posture that would keep her safe.
Thunk! The first sharp blade entered the cabinet at an angle, missing her by a mile. it was followed by a second blade, then a third. Hannah moved and changed position in a preplanned choreography that was guaranteed to keep her safe and whole…as long as she didn’t make a mistake.
It took some doing, but Hannah managed to focus on making the correct moves until Herb had thrust in the last long knife. He opened the door to the cabinet, and Hannah stepped out to thunderous applause. The audience had loved them. They were a hit despite the distraction of that snake Bradford Ramsey!
“That was great!” Herb said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you out front as soon as you change clothes.”
“Thanks.” Hannah stepped offstage with a smile on her face and ran straight into the arms of the man she’d been trying not to think of for the past fifteen minutes.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said tightening his arms around her. “Where’s that pretty little sister of yours? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Good!” Hannah said, and left it at that. She knew Herb was listening but she was too angry to care.
“Don’t be like that, Hannah. I’ve got a feeling she’s a lot like you…and you were special. I should get to know her better.”
“Leave Michelle alone!”
“That depends on you, Hannah. If you won’t be nice to me, I’ll just have to go younger.”
Bradford smiled the smile that Hannah had once thought was sexy. Now it made her see red. She pulled back her arm to sock him, to hurt him, but then she remembered Herb and the questions that were bound to come from her partner’s husband. “Just stay away from my sister!”
“And if I don’t…?”
There was that maddening smile again and this time Hannah blew up. “If you hurt Michelle, you’ll live to regret it!” she warned him. “Or better yet, you won’t live to regret it!”
Hannah paced the dressing room floor for several minutes before she was calm enough to change into her street clothes. Her friends and relatives were waiting for her to join them, but she was so angry at Bradford, she couldn’t seem to pull herself together. Thank goodness she had the luxury of time. The Amazing Herb had been the last act before a fifteen-minute intermission, and everyone was milling around in the lobby of the Lake Eden Community College auditorium, drinking coffee and eating the turnovers that she’d made with Lisa at The Cookie Jar.
She’d just gathered up her things to leave when she had a dreadful thought. What if Bradford was waiting for her outside the dressing room door? It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She knew how to defend herself. It was just that she wished to avoid any more confrontations with the man who’d made her last months at college a misery.
Hannah glanced up at the speakers mounted above the dressing room door. They were hooked to a microphone on the stage, so that occupants of the dressing room could listen for their cues. Right now the only sound they emitted was muted crowd noise from the lobby, but once intermission was over, she’d hear Bradford Ramsey welcome the audience back and introduce the next act. All she had to do was wait until she heard his voice and then hurry out of the dressing room while he was occupied onstage.
It seemed to take forever, but at last Hannah heard people begin to take their seats. Several more minutes passed, and she heard coughing, low murmuring, and rustling as those same people moved restlessly in their seats, impatient for the second half of the show to begin.
A
few minutes more, and Hannah was just as impatient as the audience. Why wasn’t the show beginning? There must be some sort of delay. It was silly of her to hide out in the dressing room, hoping to avoid Bradford.
Hannah picked up her things, pulled open the door, and made her way past the obstacles backstage. She was about to turn toward the door that led to the hallway and the audience beyond, when she glanced onstage and saw Bradford Ramsey sitting in a tall director’s chair.
There was very little light onstage, just the bit that seeped under the hem of the velvet curtain from the houselights that shone down on the audience. Hannah took a tentative step toward the chair. Yes, it was definitely Bradford, and he must have falllen asleep, because he’d dropped a half-eaten apple turnover on the stage floor.
“Wake up! They’re waiting for you to start the show!” she ordered in her loudest whisper, but it had no effect on the sleeping professor. Hannah took a step closer and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Bradford? What’s wrong with you?”
There was no answer and she gave him another shake, much harder than the first. How could he sleep when the audience was waiting? But instead of jumping to his feet as she expected, Bradford tumbled sideways and his head hit the floor with a hollow thunk.
Uh-oh! Hannah didn’t need the little voice in her head to warn her that all was not well, and she fumbled in her purse for the little flashlight on her keychain. She flicked it on and aimed it directly at his face. Even accounting for the blue LED light that made everyone look ghastly, there was no doubt in Hannah’s mind. She’d wished him ill, but not quite this ill. Bradford Ramsey was stone cold dead.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
