by Joanne Fluke
Grandma Knudson smiled for the first time since she’d walked into the kitchen. “Thank you, Hannah. I really appreciate it. I know I could have made those calls myself, but I was afraid he’d overhear me. If that man really is Matthew, he’d be hurt that I was suspicious of him. And if he’s not Matthew, he’s up to something and I don’t want him to guess I suspect him.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Hannah said, closing her steno pad and standing up. “I’m going to pack up those muffins, and then I’ll check with Lisa to see if Herb’s here with your ride home.”
CARROT-OATMEAL MUFFINS
Preheat oven to 375, rack in the middle position.
1 and 1/3 cups flour (just scoop it up and level it off with a table knife)
1 cup quick-cooking or old-fashioned dry oatmeal (I used Quaker Quick—1 Minute)
1 Tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon (I used half cinnamon and half cardamom)
½ cup brown sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)
¾ cup finely shredded carrots (pack them down when you measure them)
½ cup raisins (I used golden raisins)
½ cup milk
1 beaten egg (just whip it up in a glass with a fork)
⅓ cup melted salted butter***
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
*** - One-third cup of salted butter is approximately ¾ of a stick. Just cut a quarter of a stick off the end and melt the big part. It might turn out to be slightly more than 1/3 cup, but that doesn’t seem to hurt a thing in this wonderful recipe.
Grease or spray with Pam (or another nonstick cooking spray) the cups of a 12-cup muffin pan. Set it aside.
In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour and oatmeal.
Sprinkle the baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon on top. Mix them in thoroughly.
Stir in the brown sugar. Mix until everything is blended.
Shred the carrots if you haven’t already done so. A fine shred is best. You want them to cook in the time it takes the muffins to bake and turn golden brown and delicious.
Add the shredded carrots and the raisins to your bowl. Mix them in thoroughly.
In a separate small bowl, combine the milk, beaten egg, melted butter, and vanilla. Give it a good stir so that everything is well combined.
Dump the contents of the small bowl into the larger bowl. Gently stir just until the dry ingredients are moistened and no dry “pockets” remain.
Fill the prepared muffin cups ¾ full.
Bake at 375 degrees F. for 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean. (Of course it’s not really clean—that’s just what they say in the cookbooks. It just means that when you pull the toothpick out, it doesn’t have uncooked batter sticking to it.)
Set the muffin pan on a cold burner or a wire rack for 10 minutes. This cooling process is necessary because if you try to take the muffins out of the muffin cups now, they may break in pieces, and you certainly don’t want that!
When the muffins have cooled for 10 minutes, slide the blade of a knife around each muffin’s edge and gently pry them out. Once the muffins are out of the cups, you can try to cool them completely on a wire rack, but I’m betting that several will disappear before they’re cool.
Yield: 12 truly excellent muffins
Hannah’s Note: Mother really likes these even though there’s no chocolate in the recipe. Believe me, this is high praise!
Chapter Six
Hannah glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was a quarter to ten the next morning, and Andrea had been on the phone for forty-five minutes. Although she’d been all ears, Hannah hadn’t learned much by listening to her sister’s end of the conversation. She still didn’t know whether Reverend Matthew was who he claimed to be. Hannah had done some research on chocolate allergies and found that it was possible to “outgrow” them. It all had to do with avoiding chocolate for so long that your body didn’t react when you tried it again. This could have happened with Reverend Matthew, just as he claimed.
The clatter of spoons stirring coffee, the low hum of conversation, and an occasional laugh drifted under the swinging door that led to the coffee shop. The Cookie Jar was busy this morning. Hannah felt a little guilty for taking almost an hour out of their busy workday, but Lisa had agreed that setting Grandma Knudson’s mind at ease was the top priority.
“You too, Corrine,” Andrea said. “You’ve been a big help and I think I have enough background now. Thanks so much for talking to me. And that’s Corrine with two r’s and Ad-dams with two d’s?”
Hannah perked up her ears. It sounded as if the conversation with Matthew’s secretary was about to end.
“Well, thanks again. It’s been a pleasure.”
Hannah got up to dump out Andrea’s cold coffee and replace it with hot brew from a fresh pot. When she got back to the workstation, Andrea was dropping her cell phone back into her purse. “So?” she asked, setting the fresh mug of coffee in front of her sister.
“Matthew’s secretary was very helpful.”
“That’s because you bamboozled her.”
“No, I didn’t. Corrine was just talkative. She’s probably bored since her boss is gone.”
“But you had to pretend to be a reporter from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.”
“Okay, so that was a little white lie, but it was for a good cause. You told me that Grandma Knudson was really worried.”
“She is. I couldn’t tell from all the yes or no answers you gave, but does she have anything to worry about?”
Andrea shook her head. “Reverend Matthew Walters is an ordained Missouri Synod Lutheran minister. He’s one of the senior members of the faculty, and he left last week on a four-month sabbatical. Before he drove off, he told Corrine that he planned to stop by a little town in Minnesota, Lake Eden to be exact, to meet the minister, Reverend Robert Knudson, and renew his acquaintance with Grandma Knudson.”
“So that part checks out.”
“Yes, and there’s more. When I asked about Reverend Matthew’s duties at the seminary, she said that he has a minor in music, he’s written several hymns that are under consideration for inclusion in the college hymnal, and he’s the tenor soloist in the seminary choir.”
“That shoots Grandma Knudson’s theory about tone-deaf Lutheran ministers out of the water.”
“It sure does.” Andrea glanced down at the notes she’d scrawled on a paper napkin. “And I found out about the davenport.”
Hannah was amazed. She’d listened to everything Andrea had said, and she knew her sister hadn’t mentioned the davenport. “How did you do that?”
“Corrine volunteered some information that clears it all up. She said Matthew is a …” Andrea glanced at the napkin full of notes, “… protan.”
“Isn’t that a form of color blindness?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
Hannah shrugged. “I must have read it somewhere. What else did she say about it?”
“She said Reverend Matthew sees red as a shade of green. She didn’t find out about it until her first year as his secretary, and he came to the office Christmas party wearing a bright red shirt with a green tie. She told him she thought it was nice he’d gotten into the Christmas party spirit and he didn’t know what she was talking about. He saw the red shirt as a shade of green and thought the tie matched it perfectly.”
“Got it!” Hannah commented, catching on immediately. “The red davenport in Grandma Knudson’s sitting room looked green to him.”
“Exactly.”
“So…nothing’s left. Every suspicion that Grandma Knudson had can be explained away in one way or another. She’s going to be so relieved when I tell her!”
“Yes. I think we should go up there and tell her now.”
Hannah noticed the plural pronoun her sister had used. “You’re going to come with me?” she asked.
“You betcha! I�
��m hoping that Grandma Knudson’s got some of that Red Devil’s Food Cake left over from yesterday, the one you told me was really scrumptious. And once we give her the good news about Reverend Matthew, she’ll be so happy she’ll invite us to stay for coffee and cake.”
Hannah was smiling as she turned the big stand mixer to the lowest speed and added salt, baking soda, and baking powder to the sugar in the bowl. She was testing the Red Devil’s Food Cake recipe as promised. The mixture of water, butter, chocolate, brown sugar, and espresso powder was cooling in a saucepan, and she’d already prepared her cake pans by greasing and flouring the insides and then adding a layer of parchment paper to the bottom. Grandma Knudson had been delighted to find out that Reverend Matthew really was the teenager who’d stayed with her. And Andrea had been spot on, one of the phrases their mother used in her Regency romances that meant absolutely correct. Grandma Knudson had asked them to stay for cake and coffee, and then she’d asked Hannah to cater the bon voyage party for Claire and Bob right after church on Sunday.
Hannah thought about Grandma Knudson’s request while she added more sugar to the bowl. A tropical cookie would be perfect since Claire and Bob were going to Hawaii. Hannah had a couple of cookies that would work, but she wanted to make something new.
She thought about it as she added cocoa powder and the last of the sugar to the mixing bowl. Then she mixed in two eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla extract. The chocolate scent was lovely, and she decided that Bob and Claire’s cookies should have both chocolate and coconut, a winning combination in almost anyone’s book.
The mixture in the saucepan had cooled enough so that it wouldn’t cook the eggs. Hannah added half of it to her bowl, along with half of the flour. Once that was mixed in, she added the other half of the chocolate mixture and the rest of the flour. When everything was thoroughly incorporated, she turned off the mixer, removed the beaters and the bowl, and gave the cake batter a final stir by hand.
Coconut cookies with mini chocolate chips would be good. Hannah thought about how she could make them more tropical as she filled the layer cake pans she’d prepared and slipped them into the oven. She was just setting the time for twenty minutes when she had what she thought was a great idea. She’d put something tropical on top of the cookie for a decoration. Now all she had to do was think of something that was tropical and would be delicious on top of a coconut and chocolate cookie.
She’d just dismissed pieces of fruit because they’d be sticky, when her mother opened the back door.
“Do you have a minute, Hannah?” Delores asked.
“Sure do. I just put my cakes in the oven and it’s time for a break. Coffee?”
“I’m all coffeed out, dear. Do you have any juice?”
“Orange, grapefruit, or peach.”
“I’ll have orange if you can spare it. I just dropped by to talk about my launch party.”
“Right,” Hannah said, beginning to panic. She hadn’t planned a thing for her mother’s second book launch party, and it was scheduled for a week from next Sunday.
“Kelly-Anne, my friend in England, sent me a marvelous recipe that would be perfect for the refreshments.”
Hannah was glad her mother couldn’t see the anxiety on her face as she went to fetch the juice. English recipes needed to be converted to American measurements and they usually turned out to be odd amounts like a third of a half-cup, or nine and two-thirds ounces. Of course she always rounded off, but she didn’t feel confident doing it.
When she carried the juice back to her mother, Hannah thought she’d erased the panicked expression from her face, but the anxiety in her eyes must have given her away, because Delores laughed.
“Relax, dear” she said. “I know how you hate to convert recipes, so I asked Kelly-Anne to do it. She converted everything to American measurements, right down to the British gas mark for the oven.”
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down at the workstation across from her mother. One of her worries was gone. As long as the recipe was for the type of dessert she’d made before and didn’t have English ingredients that Florence couldn’t get down at the Red Owl, like treacle, she could oblige her mother by making whatever it was. “What type of recipe is it?” she asked, crossing her fingers for luck.
“It’s a cookie recipe. They’re called Orange Creams, but you can make them into Lemon Creams if you’d rather. I thought we could have both kinds at the party.”
“Sounds good,” Hannah said, giving a relieved smile. “Did you bring the recipe with you?”
“Of course I did, dear.” Delores extracted it from her purse and handed it to her daughter.
Hannah read it through quickly. Kelly-Anne had even written little notes next to some of the ingredients to explain that castor sugar was really superfine sugar, and icing sugar was confectioner’s sugar.
“What do you think, dear?” Delores asked when Hannah put the recipe back down on the stainless steel work surface.
“They’re rolled cookies. We don’t usually make them here because they’re more work, but we can certainly do it. And they sound really delicious.”
“Then you’ll bake both kinds for my party?”
“Of course we will. I think they’ll go very well with champagne, and I’ll bake a test batch so you can taste them.”
“Wonderful!” Delores looked pleased. “I have thirty-seven acceptances so far, and I just know more will come in next week. I think you’d better plan for a hundred. If any cookies are left over, you can serve them here at The Cookie Jar.”
“I don’t think there’ll be many left. If these taste as scrumptious as I think they’ll be, we’d better make double.”
Delores began to get up from her stool. “I’d better get back …”
“Just a minute, Mother,” Hannah interrupted before Delores could rise to her feet. “I really need your help.”
“Of course.” Delores settled back down again. “What is it, dear?”
“It’s about Bob and Claire’s party after church on Sunday. Grandma Knudson wants me to make some kind of tropical cookie since they’re sailing to Hawaii, and I’m thinking about a cookie with coconut and chocolate chips.”
“Chocolate chips aren’t really tropical, dear.”
“I know that, but chocolate goes so well with coconut.”
“That’s true.” Delores thought about it for a moment. “Why don’t you make half of your coconut cookies with chocolate and the other half with candied papaya. You could chop it up and mix it in like you did the time you ran out of raisins and you wanted to make Oatmeal Raisin Crisps.”
“Good idea, Mother! I’d forgotten all about those cookies.”
“Well, they were excellent. You really ought to make them again.”
“I will. Any other suggestions for the bon voyage party?”
“Yes. I think you should put a macadamia nut on top of each cookie. That’s so Hawaiian. And you could serve them on your father’s surfboard. The top is almost flat like a big plate.”
“Dad had a surfboard?” Hannah was amazed. She just couldn’t imagine the father she’d always thought of as non-athletic on a surfboard.
“It’s just decorative, dear, one of those touristy mementos they sell in the shops at the airport. As I remember, it had palm trees and waves painted all over it. Your father hung it on the wall in the living room for a couple of years after we were first married.”
“And you still have it?”
“Yes. It’s up in the attic where it’s been ever since your father decided to take it off the wall. You can go up there and get it if you want it.”
Hannah made up her mind almost instantly. “I want it. It’ll make a perfect cookie platter, and I can sanitize it by covering it with plastic wrap. How about you, Mother? Didn’t you bring any souvenirs home from Hawaii?”
“Yes, but they didn’t last long. They sold macadamia nuts at the airport, and I just loved the chocolate-covered ones. That was before anyone had th
em here, and I brought back six boxes. And that gives me another idea. Why don’t you call Florence and see if she can order some? You could use plain macadamia nuts on the papaya cookies and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts on the others.”
“That’s perfect! For someone who doesn’t bake, you have great ideas.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m glad I could be of some help.” Delores rose to her feet, and this time Hannah didn’t stop her. “I’ll see you on Saturday, dear. If you’d like to stay for dinner, I can make Hawaiian Pot Roast or E-Z Lasagna.”
Hannah’s stomach roiled at the thought of eating her mother’s E-Z Lasagna or Hawaiian Pot Roast. It wasn’t that they were bad. It was just that they were the only two entrees Delores ever made. Every week, when she went to her mother’s house for their mother-daughter dinner, she had one or the other. There was no way she could face either one again on the weekend.
“Hannah?”
Her mother was waiting for an answer and Hannah put on her most regretful expression. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I have plans for Saturday night.”
“Oh. Well…another time then. I have work to do anyway. The outline on my next Regency romance is due in two weeks.”
“Do you know the title yet?”
“I’m not sure, but it has to be alliterative. My titles are always alliterative. Do you have any ideas?”
Hannah thought about that. Her mother’s first book had been titled A Match for Melissa, and the book she was launching next week was A Season for Samantha. “How about A Boyfriend for Bettina?”
