Table of Contents
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
Hannah Swensen was startled awake at four forty-seven
in the morning. Two feral eyes were staring down at
her. She batted out at them and they vanished, leaving an accusatory yowl floating in their
wake.
"This is my pillow, not yours!" Hannah muttered, retrieving it and settling it in, under her
head. But before she could
close her eyes for the few precious minutes of sleep that remained until her alarm clock
blared, guilt set in. She'd never
slapped out at Moishe before. Her orange and white tomcat
had taken enough abuse while he was living on the streets.
His left ear was torn and he was blind in one eye, a reminder
of how he'd once fought to survive. In the time since Hannah
had invited him in to share her condo, they'd become friends.
Now that friendship was in jeopardy. If worse came to worst,
Moishe might never trust her again.
"I'm sorry, Moishe. Come here and I'll scratch your ears."
Hannah patted the sheets, hoping for feline forgiveness. "I'd
never really hurt you. You should know that by now. You
just scared me, that's all."
There was another yowl, a bit less irate this time, coming
from the floor by the foot of her bed. Hannah patted the
sheets again and she felt a thump as Moishe landed on the
mattress. All was forgiven and that made her feel good, but
now that she was wide awake, her neck began to twinge with a vengeance. Moishe must have
commandeered her pillow
shortly after she'd gone to bed and now she was paying the
price of his comfort. The only cure for her sore neck would
be a long hot shower before she went to work.
"Fine. I'm up," Hannah grumbled, reaching out to flick
off her alarm. "I'11 get your breakfast. Then I'll shower."
Once she'd found her slippers, Hannah padded down the
hallway to the kitchen. She flicked on the light and opened
the window to catch any early morning breezes that might be
lurking outside her condo complex, but only warm, muggy
air greeted her. Lake Eden, Minnesota, was in the middle of
an unseasonable heat wave, unusual weather for the tail end
of June, and the nights were almost as hot as the days.
Moishe took up a position by his food bowl and gazed at
her expectantly. His tail was flicking back and forth like a
metronome, and Hannah wondered idly whether she could
attach a fan and harness all that energy.
"Patience is a virtue," Hannah muttered, quoting her
mother. Then she remembered that the admonition hadn't
worked on her, either. "I'm getting your breakfast right now,
even before my first cup of coffee. If that isn't an apology, I
don't know what is!"
Moishe's tail continued swishing as Hannah went to the
broom closet and opened the padlock she'd installed on the
door. Some people might think that the padlock was overkill,
but Moishe got insecure every time he could see a bare patch
at the bottom of his food and he wasn't shy about helping
himself from the mother lode. Tired of sweeping up spilled
kitty crunchies, Hannah had attempted to secure her stock by
several unsuccessful methods. Moishe had conquered a bungee
cord, a new heavy-duty latch, and a hook-and-eye fastener.
When her determined feline roommate wanted food, he
turned into a regular Houdini. No lock could stop him for
long.
Once Moishe was crunching contentedly, Hannah poured
herself a cup of coffee and headed off to the shower. Today
was Friday and it promised to be a busy day. Not only was
Friday Pie Day at The Cookie Jar, Hannah's bakery and
coffee shop, she had to fill an order for five batches of Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies. The
order had come from a
Minneapolis caterer and the cookies were for a wedding
reception.
Hannah and her partner, Lisa Herman, had mixed up the
cookie dough before they'd locked up the previous night.
Hannah would bake the cookies and then the pies, Lemon
Meringue this week, before Lisa came in at seven-thirty. It
was Lisa's job to decorate the cookies with the initials of the
bride and groom, "PP" for Pamela Pollack and "TH" for
Toby Heller.
After a few minutes under the steaming spray, Hannah's
neck pain had faded into a dull ache. Since the KCOW
weatherman had predicted that today could be one of the
hottest days of the summer, she decided to wear her lightest-weight slacks, the ones she'd
chosen last summer on a rare
shopping trip with her sister, Andrea. Hannah stepped into
the slacks and struggled as she attempted to pull them up.
Even with the zipper wide open, she couldn't get them past
her hips. They hadn't been this tight when she'd tried them
on in the dressing room!
Hannah eyed her straining slacks balefully. She'd gained
weight, a lot of it. It was bad enough being the tallest one in
her petite family and the only daughter who'd inherited her
father's unruly red hair. Now she was also overweight. It was
time to go on a diet whether she liked it or not.
Visions of an endless stream of salads with low-cal dressing danced through Hannah's head as
she peeled off the
slacks and rummaged in the closet for a pair with an elastic
waistband. Jogging was out. She hated it and she didn't have
the time anyway. Joining a gym wasn't possible, either. The
nearest gym was out at the mall and she'd never drive out
there to use it. As much as the prospect sickened, she'd just
have to limit her intake of food. It was the only possible way
for her to shed the weight she'd gained.
Hannah turned to glance at the bathroom scale. She knew
it was only her imagination, but it looked coiled and ready,
like a rattlesnake set to strike. She told herself the sensible
thing would be to weigh herself now, to see how much she
needed to lose. She even took a step toward the scale, but she
stopped when her heart began to pound and her palms grew
damp. When was the last time she'd stepped on the scale? It
had to have been at least six months ago. Perhaps she should
diet for a week and then weigh in. That way the shock
wouldn't be so severe. At least coffee didn't have calories.
She'd have another cup and decide later about when she
should weigh herself.
The hands of her apple-shaped kitchen clock were approaching five-twenty by the time Hannah
finished her third
cup of coffee. She refilled Moishe's food bowl and poured the
rest of her coffee into the car carrier Bill Todd, her brother-in-law, had given her two
Christmases ago.
"'Bye, Moishe. Be good while I'm gone," Hannah said,
giving him a scratch under the chin and then slinging her
saddlebag-sized purse over her shoulder. "I may be condemned
to lettuce for supper, but I promise that you'll get a big bowl
of…"
Hannah broke off in mid-sentence as the kitchen wall phone
rang. It had to be her mother. No one but Delores would call her
this early. For a fleeting second, Hannah thought about letting
the answer machine pick up, but her mother would just track
her down later, perhaps at an even more inconvenient time.
There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.
The phone pealed a second time and Moishe turned his
back on it, sticking his haunches in the air and flicking his
tail. Hannah laughed, amused at his antics. Delores was not
one of Moishe's favorite people. She was still laughing as she
grabbed the phone and answered, "Hello, Mother."
There was silence on the other end of the line and then
Hannah heard a chuckle, a male chuckle. "I'm not your
mother."
“Norman?" Hannah plopped her purse on the kitchen
table and sat down in a chair. Norman Rhodes was one of
her favorite people and she dated him occasionally. "What
are you doing up this early?"
"I always get up this early. I wanted to catch you before
you left. Hannah, I need a favor."
"What is it?" Hannah asked, smiling as she pictured
Norman. She could hear water running and she knew he was
making coffee in his mother's kitchen. Norman wasn't what
most people would call handsome, but Hannah liked his
looks. He had the kind of face people instinctively trusted.
"Will you reserve a big table at the rear of The Cookie Jar
for me at nine-thirty this morning?"
"I can't," Hannah said with a grin.
"Why not?"
Hannah laughed outright. "Because I don't have any big
tables. They're all the same size. How about if I push two together for you?"
"That'd be fine. I've got some exciting news, Hannah."
"Really?" Hannah glanced up at the clock. She was running late, but that was all right. The
pies wouldn't take long.
She'd baked the crusts before she'd left work yesterday, and
all she had to do was cook the filling and put on the meringue. She wanted to talk to
Norman. She'd just work a little faster when she got to her cookie shop.
"I made an offer on a house and it's been accepted."
"You bought a house?" Hannah hadn't had an inkling
that Norman was in the market for a house.
"That's right, and I want to sign the papers this morning
before the seller changes her mind. I got a really good deal on
the Voelker place."
View a Recipe
Pineapple Right-Side-Up Cookie Bars
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., with rack in middle position.
(Another recipe with a no-roll crust--don't you just love it?)
2 cups flour (no need to sift)
1 cup softened butter (2 sticks, 1/2 pound)
1/2 cup white sugar
4 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup frozen concentrated pineapple juice
1/2 cup drained crushed pineapple (if you have any
left over, freeze it)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
4 tablespoons flour (that's 1/4 cup--don't bother to
sift)
FIRST STEP: Dump pineapple in a strainer and let it
drain while you do this step. Cream butter with sugar
and add flour. Mix well. (You can also do this in a food
processor with hard butter cut into chunks and the steel
blade.) Spread mixture out in a greased 9 x 13 inch pan
(that's a standard sheet cake pan), and press it down
evenly with your hands.
Bake at 350 degrees F. for 15 to 20 minutes. Remove
from oven. (Don't turn off oven!)
SECOND STEP: Mix eggs with sugar. Add pineapple
concentrate, drained pineapple, and mix. Add salt and
baking powder and stir it all up. Then add flour and
mix thoroughly. (This will be runny--it'll set in the
oven.)
Pour this mixture on top of the pan you just baked
and stick it back into the oven. Bake at 350 degrees E
for another 45-50 minutes. Then remove from oven.
Let cool thoroughly, then sprinkle a little powdered
sugar on the top and cut into brownie-sized bars.
(Herb Beeseman loves these--it was the least I could
do for him. Mother and Carrie love them too, but they
like a double serving with a scoop of vanilla ice cream
on top. Marge Beeseman has refused to taste them,
probably because she thinks she makes the best Pine-
apple Upside-Down Cake in the state of Minnesota and
she doesn't relish any interference.)
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