by Joanne Fluke
Hannah swiveled around and her eyes widened as she caught her first glimpse of Delores. Their mother was wearing a gold lamé pantsuit, and she looked like a brunette Barbie dressed for the Oscars. “She got her hair streaked again?”
“Bertie did it this morning. There’s something a little unnatural about having a mother who looks younger than we do.”
“Only in this light,” Hannah pointed out. “But she does look good, and she really knows how to make an entrance. And that reminds me, do you know what Mother and Carrie are celebrating tonight?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“I have a feeling we’ll find out,” Hannah said, standing up with her sister to greet their mother and Carrie.
The dinner that night was festive, and to her surprise, Hannah found that she was enjoying herself. She was seated between Norman and Mike, and they seemed to be vying with each other to see that she had everything her heart desired. When dessert time rolled around, Hannah decided that it was time to make an announcement. “I contributed six pans of Multiple-Choice Bar Cookies to Sally’s dessert buffet tonight. It’s a new recipe and I need your opinion.”
“Whatever they are, they can’t be better than your blueberry muffins,” Bill said with a grin. “They were the best I ever tasted.”
Hannah turned to give him a long, level look. “How do you know? I thought the containers were being dusted for prints.”
“They were, but they came out clean,” Mike explained. “And since the muffins were two days old already, we…uh…”
“You shared them around at the station?” Hannah finished the sentence for him.
“That’s right. We didn’t think you’d want them back. You’re not upset, are you?”
“Not really.” Hannah did her best to be gracious. “I’m glad they didn’t go to waste. Is there more coffee in that carafe?”
Both Mike and Norman made a grab for the carafe at the same moment, and Hannah almost laughed out loud. This was the first time in her whole life that two men were knocking themselves out to please her.
Mike got to the carafe first and filled Hannah’s cup. Then he leaned forward to talk to Norman. “Are you all right after that knock on the head?”
“I’m fine, but if Lake Eden gets any more dangerous, I’m going to take karate classes.”
“Karate won’t do you much good unless your assailant is a two-by-four or a stack of cinder blocks. I’ll tell you what, Norman. I promised to teach Hannah some self-defense moves, and I’ll give you some tips, too.”
“Thanks, Mike.” Norman looked properly grateful. “Just let me know when, and I’ll be there.”
“How about tonight? I have to teach Hannah what to do in a clinch, and my apartment complex has a gym.”
“That sounds great. I’ll take the mothers home and then I’ll drive out to your place. I really appreciate this, Mike. Ever since I met Hannah, I’m never sure when I’m going to run into trouble.”
Hannah made a study of the coffee in her cup as her two Lotharios discussed precisely when and where to meet. This evening was definitely not turning out the way she’d hoped it would.
“Andrea, dear?” Delores reached across the table to tap Andrea’s arm. “You didn’t have any of the champagne I ordered.”
As Hannah watched, Andrea’s face turned a shade of pink that matched the dress she was wearing. “I’m sure it was delicious, Mother. I just didn’t feel like drinking tonight.”
“But why, dear? You’re not driving, are you?”
Andrea’s cheeks turned even pinker as she shook her head.
“Then why don’t you have a glass?”
“No, Mother. Thank you, but I’m…I’m…”
“Pregnant.” Hannah supplied the word that appeared to be frozen on her sister’s lips.
“Really?” Delores looked stunned for a moment, and then she rushed around the table to hug Andrea. “That’s wonderful, dear! When did you find out?”
“Today. But Hannah knew it yesterday.”
Delores turned to give Hannah a sharp look. Hannah just shrugged. “Call me psychic.”
For a few moments, everyone spoke at once, congratulating Andrea and Bill. Hannah sat back with a smile on her face and enjoyed her sister’s time in the spotlight. Andrea looked happy, and that was what counted. And Bill seemed absolutely delighted.
“Hannah has some good news, too,” Delores said when the commotion had died down a bit. “Tell them, dear.”
“Tell them what?” Hannah asked, staring at her mother in total consternation.
“About the book. You’re going to write it, aren’t you?”
“Oh, that book.” Hannah sighed deeply. Her mother had obviously spoken to Kurt Howe, who’d spilled the beans. Now she had to explain it to the rest of her extended family, and every one of them was staring at her curiously. “Kurt Howe came into the cookie shop this morning and asked me to write a cookbook. I told him I’d think about it.”
“But you have to do it,” Delores insisted.
“Only if I can work in some of our old family recipes and stories about Lake Eden,” Hannah stipulated. “As Andrea would say, it’s not a done deal yet.”
Another round of congratulations followed Hannah’s unplanned announcement, and then Delores clinked her spoon against the side of her champagne flute. When she was sure that all eyes were on her, she said, “Carrie and I have an announcement, too.”
Hannah took a deep breath and held it. If Delores and Carrie had cooked up something together, it couldn’t be good.
“I’m going into the antique business with Carrie,” Delores declared. “Everyone who toured the Ezekiel Jordan House urged us to open an antique shop. And since Luanne Hanks has shown such an interest, we’re hiring her to help us buy stock and run the store.”
“That’s great, Mother!” Andrea reached out to pat her mother’s hand.
“It certainly is,” Hannah added, giving a big sigh of relief. Opening an antique store would keep her mother busy and out of her hair.
“That’s not all,” Delores said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Carrie and I signed the lease this afternoon, and you’ll never guess where we’re locating.”
Hannah was almost afraid to ask, but she did. “Where?”
“Right next to you, dear.”
“You mean…on the same block?” Hannah asked, hoping that she’d misunderstood.
“Right next to you, dear. Carrie and I are turning the Ezekiel Jordan House into an antique shop. I’ve been feeling guilty because I don’t spend enough time with you, and now I’ll be able to zip over and have coffee with you every morning. Isn’t that wonderful, dear?”
Somehow Hannah managed to keep the smile on her face. “Wonderful,” she said.
Multiple-Choice Bar Cookies
Preheat oven to 350°F, rack in the middle position
½ cup butter (one stick)
1 can sweetened condensed milk (14 oz.)
Melt the butter and pour it into a 9-by-13-inch cake pan. Tip the pan to coat the bottom.
1. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column A over the melted butter.
2. Drizzle sweetened condensed milk over the crumbs.
3. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column B on top.
4. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column C on top of that.
5. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column D over the very top.
Press everything down with the palms of your hands. Bake at 350°F for 30 minutes. Cool thoroughly on a wire rack and cut into brownie-sized bars.
(Tracey loves to help me bake these—she gets to choose the ingredients.)
Index of Recipes
Peanut Butter Melts
Blue Blueberry Muffins
Twin Chocolate Delights
Little Snowballs
Grilled Cream Cheese Sandwiches
Lisa’s White Chocolate Supremes
Short Stack Cookies
Multiple-Choice Bar Cookies
&
nbsp; Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at Joanne Fluke’s
LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER
Now on sale wherever mysteries are sold!
“This is a nice location,” Hannah commented, stopping her truck as close to the front door as she could get. “You can see the lake from here.”
“You’ll be able to see it even better when I prune the bottom branches on those pines.” Norman hopped out of Hannah’s truck and opened the door for Delores.
“It’s a nice little house,” Delores said taking Norman’s arm and heading for the front door. “It’s almost a pity to tear it down, but I suppose it’s much too small for you with only two bedrooms. Once you make the smallest one into an office, there’s no room at all for…”
“Houseguests,” Hannah interjected quickly, shooting her mother a warning glance. Now was not the time to fish around for a proposal.
“Yes, guests.” Delores looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, I’ll go straight to work. I don’t want to keep you two out here all afternoon.”
Norman opened the front door. “I’d better turn on the lights so you can see better. The windows are small and it’s fairly dark inside.”
“The electricity’s still on?” Hannah was surprised. She’d assumed that Rhonda had turned it off to save the expense.
“I told Rhonda to switch it over to my name. I’ll have it turned off on Saturday morning before the demolition crew gets here.”
When Hannah stepped inside the house, she was pleasantly surprised. She’d expected to be assailed by the clouds of must and dust that inevitably gathered when a house was unoccupied, but the only odor she could detect was lemon-scented furniture polish. “It’s so clean in here!”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t bother to change clothes.” Delores glanced down at the pale yellow dress she was wearing. “Andrea told me that Rhonda had a cleaning woman.”
“What for? There hasn’t been anyone living here since Mrs. Voelker died.”
“I know, but the house wasn’t selling and Andrea thought it might show better if it was cleaned. You know how some people are. They can’t see past the dust and the cobwebs. Rhonda didn’t feel like doing it herself, so she hired a cleaning lady. Come on, Hannah. We’ll start in the living room and work our way through to the back.”
The living room was cluttered with furniture and artwork, but with all three of them working, it didn’t take long. Hannah put red tags on the furniture and artwork that Delores indicated and Norman packed the smaller items in boxes.
The guestroom didn’t yield much for Granny’s Attic, just a handmade patchwork quilt that Delores thought she could sell, but the master bedroom was a different story. Delores chose two Maxwell Parish prints and an old wooden rocking chair, and then she pointed to the quilt on the bed. “I’d like to take that.”
“Why?” Hannah asked. She was almost sure that the quilt was machine made, the type that anyone could order from a mail order catalogue. “It’s not an antique, is it?”
“No, but Reverend Strandberg can use it for the homeless shelter.”
Hannah agreed and pulled the quilt from the bed. But instead of a bare mattress similar to the one they’d found in the guestroom, this bed was complete with sheets, pillowcases, and a blanket. “I wonder why Rhonda kept this bed made up? Do you suppose she stayed out here sometimes?”
“I doubt it, dear. Why would she want to stay way out here when she has an apartment of her own? The cleaning woman probably made it up by mistake.”
“Do you want the rest of the bedding for Reverend Strandberg?” Norman asked, holding one end of the quilt while Hannah folded it.
“Yes. And if there’s a linen closet, I’ll take whatever’s there. I think I’m through in here. Let’s tackle the kitchen.”
“Why don’t you two go ahead,” Norman suggested. “I’ll load up the artwork and join you as soon as I’m through.”
Hannah was the first to enter the large farm-style kitchen and what she saw made her stop cold. “That’s one of my pie boxes on the table!”
“You’re right. I wonder how long it’s been here.” Delores marched past her, lifted the lid on the distinctive box Hannah used for pies, and stepped back with a startled exclamation. “Yuck!”
“My pies are yuck?”
“They are when they’re covered with ants.”
Hannah walked closer, peered inside, and made a face. It was one of the lemon meringue pies she’d baked on Friday. Only one piece had been eaten and the rest was crawling with an endless line of small black ants that were industriously carting away the sweet pastry. “You’re right, Mother. This pie is ant fodder. I’ll dump it in the garbage.”
“Here, Hannah.” Delores walked over with a plastic garbage bag she’d found in a box under the sink. She held it open near the edge of the table and motioned to Hannah. “I’ll hold the bag. You slide the box off the table, dump it inside, and carry it out.”
“Yes, Mother,” Hannah said obediently, resisting the urge to giggle. Delores was treating her like a backwards child, but the plan was a good one and to object would be petty. Once the box was safely transferred to the garbage bag, Hannah carried it to the back door and took it outside.
Two garbage cans sat on a cement slab next to the old garage. Hannah peeked in the garage window, hoping to see an antique car up on blocks, but the interior was completely filled with fireplace wood. She’d have to remember to tell Norman about that. There was enough wood in Mrs. Voelker’s garage to carry him through several winters. All he had to do was move it to another location before they tore down the garage.
Hannah held her bag at the ready and lifted the lid on the garbage can. She expected it to be empty and she was surprised to see several items in the bottom of the plastic liner. There were two Styrofoam boxes with seethrough plastic lids, the kind used for restaurant takeout dinners. One dinner was partially eaten and the other looked untouched. Both were Osso Buco, one of Hannah’s favorite entrées. She recognized it by its distinctive marrowbone. Rhonda must have ordered takeout on the night she packed up the last of her great-aunt’s effects and since there were two containers, it was obvious she’d expected someone to join her for dinner.
It was probably an invasion of privacy to go through someone else’s garbage, but Hannah was curious about that uneaten dinner. She lifted the liner partway out of the can, and peered down at the other items in its depths. There was an empty Chianti bottle, and two plastic wineglasses. Rhonda had poured wine for someone, but that someone had left before dinner.
Hannah shrugged and added her garbage to the mix. She didn’t understand why Rhonda hadn’t taken the untouched entrée home. Even if she hadn’t wanted it, she could have given it to one of her neighbors. For that matter, why had she left the pie? The same reasoning applied. One of Rhonda’s neighbors would have loved it.
Just as she was about to close the lid, Hannah heard the rumble of a trash truck approaching on the road that ran past the house. Monday must be garbage day. Hannah lifted out the liner, tied it off, and rushed to the front to hand it to the driver.
“What took you so long?” Delores asked when Hannah came back into the kitchen.
“The garbage truck came so I carried out the bag,” Hannah sniffed the air. “You must have found some ant spray.”
“It was under the sink. Look at these dishes, Hannah. They’re Carnival glass.”
Hannah surveyed the rainbow of colored dishes Delores had stacked on the counter. “I thought Carnival glass was orange.”
“That’s the most common, but they made it in other colors, too. See this purple bowl? It’s fairly rare and it’ll bring a good price. Could you climb up and look in the top cupboards, dear? There may be more.”
Hannah dragged a chair over to the counter and climbed up on the seat. She opened one of the cupboard doors and her eyes widened as she recognized a distinctive design. “Here’s a big Desert Rose platter. You want that, don’t you?”
“Yes. Hand it down to me.”
Hannah handed the platter to her mother and reached for a stack of plates. “This looks like Blue Willowware, but it’s green. I think there’s a whole set of it.”
“Let me see,” Delores sounded excited as she reached up for a plate. She flipped it over and she gasped. “What a find! It’s genuine Green Blue Willowware!”
Hannah coughed to cover a laugh. How could a plate be Green Blue Willowware? It sounded like a contradiction in terms. “Here’s some pink. Do you want that, too?”
“Yes! Pink Blue Willowware is a collector’s dream. Just hand me everything, Hannah. And be careful you don’t drop any pieces. I’m just glad Rhonda didn’t go through the cupboards. She missed some real treasures.”
By the time Norman joined them in the kitchen, Delores had every flat surface stacked with dishes and glassware. “It looks like you found some things you want.”
“Oh, my yes!” Delores turned to smile at him. “Are you sure you don’t want a percentage? Mrs. Voelker had some valuable dishes and glassware.”
Norman shook his head. “It’s all yours and Mother’s. I’ve been living with her rent-free and it’s the least I can do.”
“Well…that’s very generous. Just wait until I tell Carrie and Luanne. They’re going to be in alt over these fabulous dishes.”
Hannah chuckled as she climbed down from the chair. In alt? It was obvious that her mother had attended a meeting of her Regency Romance group recently. Delores had explained that alt referred to altitude and the heroines in Regency novels often spoke of being in alt when something took them to the heights of pleasure.
When they’d packed up the glassware and dishes and Norman had carried the boxes out to the truck, Delores gave one last glance around. “I think that’s all. I’ve looked in every room.”
“How about the basement?” Norman asked. “I haven’t been down there, but Rhonda said her great-uncle used to do some woodworking.”
