Part 24 (2/2)

”Of course,” Hannah agreed quickly, before Mike could think about giving any other dating advice.

”I don't like leaving you alone, honey.” Bill sat down and slipped his arm around Andrea's shoulders.

”I won't be alone. I'll drive over to Hannah's. When you're through working, you can get Mike to drop you off there and we'll go home in my car.”

”It could be three or four hours. We're meeting with Doc and then we have to catch up on the paperwork.”

Andrea reached up to pat Bill's chest. ”Don't worry about me, honey. If I get tired, I can sack out on Hannah's couch.”

Hannah wasn't sure how she felt as she listened to this tender exchange. On the one hand, it was nice to have someone who was concerned about you. But on the other hand, you couldn't ever feel truly independent. Marriage was a trade-off. You gave up some things and you gained others. Since Hannah knew she'd balk at the trade-off aspect, it must mean that she wasn't ready for that walk down the aisle, at least not quite yet.

Chapter TWenty.

Hannah reached out for Moishe, who seemed fascinated with Norman's computer and was sitting on the coffee table, pawing at the keyboard. ”Guard your computer, Norman. I'll carry him in the kitchen and fill his food bowl. Then he might leave you alone.”

”He's okay. He's just curious.” Norman scooped Moishe up and settled him down on his lap.

”He shouldn't be that close to your computer,” Andrea advised, waving away some orange and white cat hairs that were floating around in the air. ”He's shedding.”

”That's what cats do. It's not his fault.” Norman scratched Moishe behind the ears with one hand and typed with the other. ”I'll blow out the keyboard with compressed air when I get home.”

”Are there any more leftover cookies, Hannah?” Andrea picked up an empty bag and crumpled it.

”No, but I'm baking fresh. Let me go see how they're coming.”

Hannah stepped into the kitchen and sniffed the air. The new cookies smelled wonderful, a blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a secret ingredient that Norman and Andrea would never LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 217.

be able to identify. It was so unusual, no one would ever think of it and it would remain a mystery to anyone who tasted the cookies. And that's what she'd call them, Mystery Cookies.

As if on cue, the oven timer beeped and Hannah opened the door to take out the sheet of cookies. She'd gone into the kitchen to mix up this batch right after she'd noticed that Norman and Andrea were going through her bags of leftover cookies like starving wolves at a sheep convention. At first she'd planned to make Chocolate Chip Crunches, but she'd been out of chips and cornflakes. Peanut b.u.t.ter Melts had been out, since the jar of peanut b.u.t.ter was nearly empty. Her Old-Fas.h.i.+oned Sugar Cookies would have worked, but they required chilling time and the wolves in the living room might attack if their stomachs weren't placated. She'd stared at her pantry shelf for a moment to a.s.sess her stock of ingredients, and then she'd flipped through her cookbook for the recipe Grandma Ingrid had called Red Spice Cake and adapted it for cookies on the fly.

Once Hannah had transferred the hot cookies to a rack and slipped another pan in the oven, she put the dozen cool cookies she'd made on a plate and carried them into the living room. ”Here. These are ready and I've got more on the way.”

”Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea took a cookie with her left hand and munched while she continued to take notes from Norman's computer screen. ”These are really good. They're moist and cinnamony and ... is that a word?”

”Is what a word?”

”Cinnamony.”

Hannah laughed. ”If it's not, it ought to be.”

”Mmm...” Andrea reached out for another cookie. ”What are these?”

”Spice cookies. I'm going to call them Mystery Cookies.”

”That's a good name.” Norman grabbed a cookie before Andrea could take her third. ”What's the mystery?”

”There's a secret ingredient and I don't think anyone can guess what it is. Except maybe Andrea.”

218 ”Me?” Andrea looked surprised. ”How would I guess? You know I don't bake.”

You don't cook, either, Hannah thought, but she didn't say it. Andrea had taken enough heat over the years about her lack of culinary skills. ”Just think about Grandma Ingrid's Red Spice Cake and you'll know.”

”But that was made with...” Andrea stopped abruptly and began to grin. ”I think I get it. Does this mystery ingredient come in a red and white can?”

”Yes, and don't tell anybody. I'll have to tell Lisa because she'll be helping me mix the dough, but I'll swear her to secrecy.”

”I'll never tell. I promise.” Andrea raised her hand to her chest and gestured. ”Cross my heart and hope to die. I wonder where that comes from.”

”It's a reference to the crucifixion. It's like knock on wood. That's a reference to the wooden cross.”

”Really?” Norman turned to stare at her. ”How do you know that?”

Hannah shrugged. ”I read it somewhere a long time ago. Little things like that stick in my head.”

”If you had a computer you could find out all sorts of things like that on-line,” Norman told her.

Hannah sighed. They'd had this discussion before. Norman was trying to pull her kicking and screaming into cybers.p.a.ce. ”Why would I need to find it out if I already know it?”

”You don't know it all. It's fun doing research on the Web and it's way past time for you to get a computer. As a matter of fact, I think you should have two.”

”One for each hand?” Hannah quipped.

”No, one for here and one for The Cookie Jar.”

”But why? I'm doing just fine without a computer.”

”You could have a master file of your recipes,” Andrea jumped into the fray. ”Then you wouldn't have to make copies and keep them in both places. If you made a change in a recipe at work, you could send it to your computer at home.

219.

When you got home, you could print it out and then you'd always have the updated version.”

”That's what I do now. I just run down to the drugstore and make a copy and bring it home.”

”But that's the whole point.” Andrea was insistent. ”You wouldn't have to run down to the drugstore. You'd be saving money, too. That copier down there is expensive.”

Hannah laughed. ”And two computers aren't?”

”Not as expensive as you think,” Norman took over the argument. ”They're practically giving away last year's models. Since you don't need it for anything fancy, you wouldn't need to be state-of-the-art.”

”You're ganging up on me,” Hannah accused them. ”And here I am, feeding you cookies. That's not nice.”

Andrea reached out for her fourth cookie. ”You're right. I wish you had a printer at home, though. Then I wouldn't have to copy all this stuff off Norman's screen. It's like copying off the blackboard at school and I hated doing that. I always got a terrible headache.”

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