Part 4 (1/2)
”I don't know how to make apple turnovers.”
Hannah let out a groan that would have awakened a hibernating bear. ”But you promised Stephanie we'd make them.”
”I know. Don't worry, Hannah. Marge makes the best apple turnovers I've ever tasted, and she told me it's easier than making pies. She baked over a hundred for our family reunion last year.”
Hannah began to feel better immediately. Lisa's mother-in-law was an excellent cook and baker who never did anything fancy. She'd grown up on wholesome home-cooked meals and if she'd baked that many apple turnovers, it couldn't be that difficult to do.
”Will Marge teach us how to make them?” Hannah asked.
”I'm sure she will. I'll give her a call right now and ask. Knowing Marge, she'll probably offer to help us bake them and talk Aunt Patsy into coming along, too.”
”That would be great. I'd feel a lot more confident if somebody knew what they were doing.”
”Me too.” Lisa gave a little smile. ”Now I want you to stop worrying about the recipes and the baking, and think of all the money we're going to make on a gazillion apple turnovers!”
It was two in the afternoon and everything was coming up roses. Or at least it was coming up daisies, Hannah amended the old adage. There still weren't enough hours in the day to get everything done to her satisfaction, but Marge and Patsy had offered to help with the turnovers. They'd even suggested a plan. Since Marge's turnovers froze beautifully, they were going to start baking them tonight, right after The Cookie Jar closed for business. Jack, who'd convinced Marge that he was the fastest apple peeler in Minnesota history, would come with them to operate the old-fas.h.i.+oned apple peeler, corer, and slicer that his grandmother had used in her farm kitchen. Hannah would leave once everyone had arrived and drive to her condo to check on the cats and go out to The Corner Tavern with Mike, who'd stopped in at The Cookie Jar to tell her that no one had broken into Norman's house. What his neighbor had thought was a burglar was actually only a burned out lightbulb that Mike had replaced.
”I've got something for you to taste,” Lisa called out, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of cookies.
”Chocolate Sugar Cookies?” Hannah guessed, gazing down at the sparkling grains of sugar on the dark chocolate cookies.
”Right. I called Dad and he read the recipe to me over the phone. I just thought I'd try them to make sure they were as good as I remembered.”
Hannah bit into one of the still-warm cookies and gave a little sigh of contentment. She was about to take another bite when Jon Walker, the local druggist who'd come in for his early afternoon break, tapped her arm to get her attention.
”How about us?” he asked, making a sweeping gesture that included everyone seated at the counter. ”We'll help you test those cookies.”
Both Hannah and Lisa laughed. Their customers were always ready to critique new cookies. ”Here you go,” Lisa said, pa.s.sing the plate to Jon so that he could distribute them.
Stan Kramer, Hannah's accountant, was the first to comment. ”Good crunch,” he said.
”They're nice and b.u.t.tery,” Bertie Straub, owner of Lake Eden's beauty parlor, the Cut 'n Curl, gave her a.s.sessment.
”And the chocolate is just right,” Jon said. ”It's dark, and sweet and...”
”Yummy!” Hannah finished the sentence for him.
Father Coultas, who was sitting at the end of the counter, gave Lisa the high sign. ”I'd give it a ten out of ten,” he said. ”You'll bring some to our next bake sale, won't you, Lisa?”
Just then the bell on the front door tinkled and Andrea stepped in. As usual, she could have stepped off the cover of a fas.h.i.+on magazine. Her makeup was perfect, and her s.h.i.+ning blond hair was caught up in a barrette, a hairstyle that exposed the back of her slender neck and was perfect for a warm summer day. She was wearing a mint green dress with a full skirt that was decorated with wide black rickrack around the collar and hem. A black leather belt with a rickrack design nipped in Andrea's slim waist, and black leather sandals with tiny heels completed the outfit.
”What an adorable outfit!” Bertie said by way of greeting.
”Thanks, Bertie.” Andrea gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and then she turned to Hannah. ”Could I see you in the kitchen for a minute?”
Uh-oh! Hannah's mind shouted as her sisterly radar went on high alert. Something was definitely wrong. Although Andrea was smiling as she led the way to the kitchen, Hannah could tell by her sister's stiff posture that she was barely holding herself together.
”What is it?” Hannah asked, the moment the swinging, restaurant-style door had closed behind them.
”It's Bill!” Andrea took a deep breath and tried to control herself, but she seemed unable to keep up the facade and she dissolved in tears.
Hannah imagined the worst. ”He's all right, isn't he? I mean...he didn't have an accident or anything, did he?”
Andrea shook her head, but she was crying so hard, she couldn't speak.
”You're shaking your head no.” Hannah could have kicked herself for asking two opposing questions. ”Does that mean no, Bill's not all right? Or no, Bill didn't have an accident?”
Andrea took another deep breath and swallowed noisily. ”Bill didn't have an accident. And he's all right...but I'm not!”
”What's wrong with you?” Hannah asked, her anxiety growing. It was obvious that Andrea was very upset.
”I'm afraid Bill will make the wrong decision. Or maybe it'll be the right decision for him, but it'll turn out to be the wrong decision for me.” Andrea sniffled and wiped her eyes with a tissue that was so wet and ragged, it was almost unrecognizable.
”Here,” Hannah said, grabbing a stack of napkins from the supply cart against the wall and handing them to her sister.
”If he says yes, there aren't enough tissues in the whole world!” Andrea wailed, grabbing several napkins from the top of the stack and wiping her eyes.
This was a crisis of the highest magnitude. Hannah knew that because Andrea had just smeared both eyeliner and mascara. ”Hold on,” she said. ”We need coffee.”
It only took a moment for Hannah to fill two cups from the kitchen coffee pot and carry them to the workstation. Then she made another trip to the baker's rack beside the oven, scooped up a half-dozen of Lisa's Chocolate Sugar Cookies, and transferred them to a plate.
”Eat,” she ordered, setting the plate in front of her sister.
”I'm not h...hungry.”
Hannah could tell that more tears were imminent by the quaver in her sister's voice. ”You don't have to be hungry. Just eat a cookie. It's medicinal.”
The I'm-your-big-sister-and-I-know-best tone in Hannah's voice must have been convincing, because Andrea picked up a cookie and ate it. When the first cookie had disappeared, Hannah pushed the plate closer, and Andrea took another.
”Coffee,” Hannah instructed, pointing to the mug she'd set in front of her sister. ”Take a sip of coffee to wash down that second cookie, and then tell me all about it.”
Andrea didn't argue. She just did as Hannah directed. And then she let out a quavering sigh. ”It's Bill,” she said, repeating what she'd said earlier.
”You told me that. What about Bill?”
”He's been...” Andrea stopped and cleared her throat. ”He's been offered a new job!”
”As Managing Sheriff of the Tri-County Area?” Hannah hazarded a guess.
”No! That'd be wonderful. If they offered him that job, I'd want him to accept right away. But they didn't. And this job isn't wonderful. This job is just...just awful!”
”If it's that awful, he shouldn't take it,” Hannah said reasonably.
”I know that. But I'm not sure Bill knows that. You see, it's almost double the money, and he'd have his own practically unlimited expense account. And the benefits are even better than the ones he has now.”
Hannah began to frown. ”I must be missing something here. What you just described sounds like everybody's dream job. What's so awful about it?”