Blueberry Muffin Murder

BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER

JOANNE FLUKE

-1-

Hannah Swensen awoke to a curious sensation. Her body was warm, but her nose felt like an icicle. She sat up in bed, reached out to snap on the light, and stared at the little puffs of moisture her breath left in the air. No wonder her nose felt so cold! The furnace had gone out again and Lake Eden, Minnesota, was smack-dab in the middle of a February cold snap.

"Moishe? Where are you?" Hannah glanced around the bedroom, but her feline roommate wasn't in any of his usual places. There was no orange-and-white cat nestled in the cushioned depths of her laundry basket, the top of her dresser held only its usual collection of books, and the windowsill with its view of the bird feeder was bare. There was, however, a good-sized lump in the middle of her bed.

Hannah stared at the lump for a moment. It was too small to be one of her pillows and too large to belong to an errant sock. She lifted the covers to find her feline roommate curled up in the middle of her bed, soaking up the warmth from her electric blanket.

"What are you doing under there?" Hannah asked, eyeing her fiercely independent tomcat with surprise. Moishe seldom cuddled for more than a few moments, and he'd never crawled under the covers with her. The cold must have driven him under her quilt and blanket. And he came equipped with a fur coat!

As if on cue, the alarm clock began its infernal electronic beeping. It was time to get up in the predawn freeze, when all Hannah really wanted to do was crawl back under the covers. She sighed and reluctantly swung her feet over the edge of her bed, feeling around with her toes for her slippers.

One slipper was immediately accessible. Hannah wiggled her left foot inside and attempted to find its mate. This took a moment, for it was hiding out near the foot of her bed. By the time Hannah located it and shoved her foot inside, her teeth were chattering in a lengthy drum roll.

"Come on, Moishe. Today's a big day." Hannah slipped into her warmest robe, a quilted relic from Lake Eden's only thrift store, and belted it around her waist. Then she folded back the covers until Moishe was exposed with no place to go. "I know it's cold. We'll have breakfast in front of the fireplace."

Hunger must have won out over comfort in Moishe's mind, because he padded after her down the hallway and into the kitchen. Hannah flicked on the lights and gave a thankful sigh as she saw that the timer on her coffeemaker had worked. She poured a cup of the strong brew, cupped it in both hands, and took a scalding sip. There was nothing better than hot coffee on a very cold morning. Then she filled Moishe's bowl with kitty crunchies and carried her coffee and Moishe's breakfast out into the living room.

The fireplace sprang into life as Hannah flicked the switch on the wall, and Moishe settled down in front of the blaze to have his breakfast Hannah pulled up a chair, rested her feet on the hearth that was home to the fireplace tools she didn't really need, and gave thanks for the wonders of a gas log. All things being equal, she preferred a real fireplace that could burn aromatic woods like cedar and pine, but a gas log was much more convenient. She never had to carry wood up the stairs to her second-floor condo, or sweep out the ashes and haul them down to the garage Dumpster in a metal pail. Her fireplace was hassle-free and the warmth was instantaneous. Flick, it was on. Flick, it was off.

As she sat there toasting her feet and waiting for the caffeine to jump-start her morning, Hannah heard a distant clanging from the nether regions of the basement. Someone was working on the furnace. Which early riser had notified the maintenance people?

Hannah considered it as she sipped her coffee. There was a separate furnace for each building, and her building contained four condo units, two on the ground floor and two on the second floor. It was doubtful that Mrs. Canfield, who owned one of the ground-level units, would have noticed the problem. She'd once told Hannah that she didn't stay up past ten, and the furnace had been working just fine then. Clara and Marguerite Hollenbeck, the two unmarried sisters who owned the unit above Mrs. Canfield, were out of town this week. They'd stopped by Hannah's cookie shop on Monday to tell her that they'd be attending a Bible teachers' conference at Bethany Lutheran College. The Plotniks lived directly below Hannah and they were the most likely candidates. Phil and Sue had a four-month-old baby, and he still demanded an occasional bottle in the middle of the night.

There was a grinding noise from the basement, and Moishe looked startled as he lifted his head from his food bowl. The grinding was followed by a series of clanks and clunks, and Hannah felt a surge of warm air emerge from the heater vents. The furnace was back on. At least she wouldn't have to worry about leaving the gas log on for Moishe, or putting her stash of Diet Coke in the refrigerator to keep the cans from freezing and popping their tops.

"I've got to get ready for work, Moishe." Hannah gave him a pat, drained the last of her coffee, and flicked off the fireplace. Once she'd carried his bowl back to the kitchen and given him fresh water, she headed off to the shower. Today would be a busy day and she had tons of cookies to bake. As the proprietor of The Cookie Jar, Lake Eden's coffee shop and bakery, she'd contracted to provide all the cookies for the Lake Eden Winter Carnival.

As Hannah turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and stepped into her steamy shower enclosure, she thought about the plans that Mayor Bascomb and his Winter Carnival committee had made. If they were successful, the carnival would bring new life to Lake Eden at a time of year when everyone needed a boost. There wasn't much winter business in their small Minnesota town, and the promise of crowds with cash to spend had everyone filled with enthusiasm.

Lake Eden was a popular tourist spot in the summer months, when the town was flooded with visitors. Every year, on the day that fishing season opened, a lengthy parade of fishermen towing boats drove through Lake Eden to try their luck at the lake that was just within the town limits. The sky blue water was peppered with boats from dawn to dusk in the summer, and a record number of walleyes were pulled from its depths.

Good fishing wasn't all Eden Lake had to offer. With its picturesque shores and sandy beaches, it was also a popular family vacation spot. Summer cabin rentals were in high demand, and the lucky locals who owned them used the profits to pay their mortgages and fatten their savings accounts for the lean winter months.

When the summer season was over, right after Labor Day, the tourists and vacationers left town. The fine restaurants that overlooked the lake shut down their grills, the Lake Eden Bait and Tackle Shop boarded up its windows, and the boat launch was chained off for the winter. By the time the leaves on the trees had begun to display their fall colors, only the year-round residents were left.

Hannah liked the fall season. The nights were brisk with a hint of snow to come, and hoarfrost lined the edges of the road when she drove to work. Winter wasn't bad either, at first. Then the snow was white and pristine, the crisp, cold air made the inside of her nose tingle, and her regular customers at The Cookie Jar were full of holiday plans and good cheer.

When Christmas and New Year's were over, it was another story. Heating bills soared and seemed to approach the magnitude of the national debt, and business slowed down to a trickle. There was a brief flurry of activity for Valentine's Day, but after the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates were only a pleasant memory, winter seemed to stretch out endlessly with no spring flowers in sight.

Late February was the dreariest time of year in Lake Eden. The weak, anemic sun barely peeked out of overcast skies, and tree branches were black and stark against a horizon that was sometimes indistinguishable from the colorless banks of snow. It was difficult to maintain a sunny disposition when every day looked exactly like the one before it, and depression became the epidemic de jour. To combat this yearly malady, Mayor Bascomb had scheduled Lake Eden's very first Winter Carnival in the third week of February.

Not to be confused with the Winter Carnival in St. Paul, with its gigantic Ice Palace and hundreds of thousands of visitors, Lake Eden's event was set on a much smaller scale. Hannah regarded it as a cross between a county fair and a mini Winter Olympics. There would be Nordic skiing, snow- mobile competitions, speed-skating exhibitions, dogsled races, and ice fishing on Eden Lake. There would also be contests in Lake Eden Park for the kids, including the best family-made snowman, the best "snow angel," and a host of others that even the little ones could enjoy.

The Jordan High auditorium had been designated as the hospitality hub, and all the Lake Eden clubs and societies were busily setting up displays and booths. Winter Carnival visitors would park their cars in the school lot, and shuttle sleighs were scheduled to leave Jordan High every thirty minutes to transport people to the event sites.

Hannah gave her hair a final rinse and stepped out of the shower to towel it dry. The air outside her steamy bathroom was frigid, and she shivered as she quickly dressed in jeans and her official Lake Eden Winter Carnival sweatshirt. It was bright blue with a flurry of white snowflakes that formed block letters on the front. The legend read "LAKE EDEN," because "LAKE EDEN WINTER CARNIVAL" had exceeded the manufacturer's ten-letter maximum.

Moishe had joined her in the bedroom, and he watched as she pulled on warm socks and slipped her feet into a pair of high-top moose-hide moccasin boots with rubber soles. Then he followed her down the hall to the kitchen, attempting to snag the laces on her boots.

Hannah refilled Moishe's food before he had time to yowl for more, poured herself another cup of coffee, and sat down to organize her day at the old Formica table she'd rescued from the Helping Hands Thrift Shop. But before she could flip to a blank page in the steno pad she kept propped up next to her salt and pepper shakers, the phone rang.

"Mother," Hannah said with a sigh, and Moishe halted in mid-crunch to give the phone a baleful look. He wasn't fond" of Delores Swensen, and Hannah's mother had six pairs of shredded pantyhose to prove it. Hannah stood up to grab the wall phone and sat back down again. Her mother wasn't known for brevity. "Good morning, Mother."

"You really shouldn't answer that way, Hannah. What if I'd been someone else?"

Hannah gave a fleeting thought to the logic class she'd taken in college. It was impossible for someone to be some- one else. She decided not to argue the point ' it would only prolong their conversation ' and she settled for her standard reply. "I knew it was you, Mother. It's never anyone else at five-thirty in the morning. How are the shuttle sleighs coming along?"

"They're all ready to go, and that includes the one that AI Percy's uncle donated." Delores gave a rueful laugh. "You' should have seen it, Hannah. It was such a wreck that all they could keep were the runners and the hardware. The shop class had to build a whole new body and it looks fabulous."

"Great," Hannah commented, and took another sip of her coffee. Delores had been instrumental in helping Mayor Bascomb round up sleighs for the Jordan High shop class to rejuvenate. She had a real knack for ferreting out antiques, and old sleighs in decent condition weren't easy to locate.

"I found a picture on a Christmas card and they modeled it after that. The boys are lining it with white fur throws today, and we're going to use it for the Prince and Princess of Winter."

Hannah pictured it in her mind. It sounded perfect for the Winter Carnival royalty. "How many sleighs do you have?"

"Twelve." There was a note of pride in Delores's voice. "And before I got involved last month, they only had two."

"You did a great job. I'll bet you could get a fleet rate on the insurance with a dozen."

There was a silence, and Hannah heard her mother draw in her breath sharply. "Insurance? I hope the Winter Carnival Committee thought of that! Why, someone could fall off and sue the town, and ' "

"Relax, Mother,' Hannah interrupted her. "Howie Levine's on the committee and he's a lawyer. I'm sure he thought of it."

"I hope so! I'll call the mayor this morning, just to make sure. I promised to call anyway, to tell him when the Ezekiel Jordan House was finished."

"It's all finished?"

"It will be this morning. All I have to do is hang the drapes and put up some pictures in the parlor."

"Good work, Mother," Hannah complimented her. She knew that Delores hadn't been given much time to whip the project into shape. At their January meeting, the Lake Eden Historical Society had decided to create a full-scale replica of the first mayor's house for the Winter Carnival crowd to tour, and they'd rented the two-story building next to Hannah's cookie shop for the purpose. Since Delores was Lake Eden's foremost antique expert and a founding member of the historical society, she had taken on the project. Carrie Rhodes had volunteered to help her, and when the two mothers weren't actively working on the re-creation, they were busy making plans to marry Hannah off to Carrie's son, Norman.

Replicating the Ezekiel Jordan House was a difficult task. Since there were no existing pictures, Delores and Carrie had contacted the first mayor's descendants to request any information they might have about the five-room dwelling. One of Mrs. Jordan's great-great-grandnieces had responded by sending a box of her ancestor's effects and a stack of letters that the first mayor's wife had written to her family back east. In several of the letters, Abigail Jordan had described her home and furniture in detail, and Delores had used her knowledge of antiques to fill in the blanks.

"Will you have time to stop by this morning, Hannah?" Delores sounded a bit tentative, and that was unusual for her. "I'd like your input before anyone else sees it."

"Sure. Just bang on my back door when you're ready and I'll dash over. But you're the antique expert. Why do you need my input?"

"For the kitchen," Delores explained. "It's the only room Abigail Jordan didn't describe. She talks about baking in every one of her letters, and I'm not sure I have all the utensils in the proper places."

"I'll check it out," Hannah promised, knowing full well that her mother had never used a flour sifter or rolling pin in her life. Delores didn't bake and she made no bones about it The desserts of Hannah's childhood had always come straight from the Red Owl grocery store shelves.

"Thank you, dear. I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to get off the line. Carrie's picking me up and she said she'd call when she left her house."

"Okay. Bye, Mother." Hannah hung up the phone and made a mental note to tell her sister, Andrea, never to mention the option of call-waiting to their mother. This morning's call had been the shortest in history. After a glance at her apple-shaped kitchen clock, Hannah rinsed out her coffee cup, refilled Moishe's food bowl for the final time, and scratched him near the base of his tail, an action that always made him arch his back and purr. "I've got to run, Moishe. See you tonight."

Hannah had a routine to perform before she left her condo in the winter. She shrugged into her parka, zipped it up, and pulled her navy blue stocking cap down over her un- manageable red curls. Then she went into the living room to turn the thermostat down to an energy-saving sixty-five degrees, flicked on the television to keep Moishe company, picked up her purse, and slipped on her fur-lined gloves. She gave Moishe one more pat, checked to make sure she had her keys, and stepped out into the dark, frigid morning that still looked like the middle of the night.

The security lights on the side of the building went on as Hannah descended the outside staircase. Because of the Northern latitude, they got a real workout during the winter, when the days were short and the sun shone for less than eight hours. Most Lake Eden residents drove to work in the dark and came home in the dark, and if they worked in a place without windows, there were days at a stretch when they never caught a glimpse of the sun.

Hannah blinked in the glare of the high-wattage bulbs, designed to ensure a crime-free environment, and held onto the railing as she went down the steps. Once she arrived at ground level, another set of stairs led to the underground garage. Hannah was about to descend them when a tough-sounding male voice rang out behind her.

"Put up your hands and face the wall, lady. Do exactly what I say, or I'll blow you away!"

-2-

Hannah wasn't sure whether to be frightened or angry as she raised her hands in the air. There'd never been any sort of crime in her condo complex before, and it was the last thing she'd expected. Mike Kingston, head of the Winnetka County Sheriff's Detective Division, had promised to teach her some self-defense moves, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet. Hannah dated him occasionally, and after two separate occasions when she'd found herself in imminent danger of occupying one of Doc Knight's steel tables at the morgue, Mike had suggested she learn what to do if someone threatened bodily harm.

Even though she didn't appreciate being waylaid only a few feet from her door in a condo complex that had been gated to keep out intruders, Hannah knew she shouldn't take foolish risks. She took a deep breath and dutifully recited the phrase that her father had drummed into her head when she'd gone off to college. "Take anything you want, but please don't hurt me."

"Hug the wall and don't move a muscle. Keep your hands up where I can see them."

Hannah frowned as she followed his orders. His voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She was still trying to identify it when a snowball splattered harmlessly over her head, raining snow down on the top of her stocking cap.

"Gotcha!"

The moment the man laughed, his voice was paired with a freckled face in Hannah's mind and she whirled around angrily. "Greg Canfield! Of all the idiotic, senseless. . ."

"Sorry, Hannah," Greg interrupted her tirade. "I saw you walking to your truck and I couldn't resist. Are you mad at me?"

"I should be. You scared me half to death!" Hannah gave him a reluctant smile. When they'd been in third grade, Greg Canfield had made a practice of lying in wait and pelting her with snowballs on her way home from school. Not one to take things lying down, Hannah had fought back. She'd landed her share of cold missiles that had dripped icy snow down Greg's neck, and their snowball battles had lasted all winter, despite dire warnings from both mothers. When fourth grade had begun, Greg and Hannah had called a truce and they'd become friends. Hannah had been very disappointed when Greg's parents had moved to Colorado, pulling Greg out of school before they entered the ninth grade.

All through high school, Hannah had thought about Greg and how much easier her social life would have been if she'd had a friend of the opposite sex. She'd even imagined that they might have been a lot more than just friends until she'd heard that Greg had married his high school girlfriend right after graduation.

"It's good to see you again, Hannah."

"Same here. . . I think," Hannah responded, wondering why Greg was here. His grandmother, Mrs. Canfield, was one of her downstairs neighbors, but it was too early for a visit. "You're not going to wake up your grandmother, are you?"

"Of course not." Greg stepped forward to brush the snow from her cap. "Grandma always sleeps until nine."

Hannah was even more confused. "Then what are you doing out here so early?"

"I woke up when the furnace went out and I went down to the basement to fix it. It was simple, just a loose connection. I didn't want Grandma to wake up to a cold house."

"You're living with your grandmother now?"

"It's just temporary. I had to stick around to tie up some loose ends and the house sold a lot faster than I expected. You never got out to my store at the mall, did you?"

Hannah felt a twinge of guilt. Her former classmate had moved back to the area a little over a year ago. He'd bought a house in a neighboring town and opened an import store at the Tri-County Mall. "I'm sorry, Greg. I really meant to drive out to see it, but the time was never right."

"You should have come for my closeout sale. I had some incredible bargains."

"I heard. Andrea was there and she said she practically bought you out. I'm sorry your store closed, Greg."

"Water under the bridge," Greg said with a shrug. "Retail really wasn't my thing anyway. The hours were too long, and dealing with my suppliers was a nightmare."

Hannah felt a bit uncomfortable. She really didn't know what to say to someone who'd lost his business. "How about your wife? Is she living with your grandmother, too?"

"No. Annette flew to Denver right after the house sold. That's where her parents live."

Hannah nodded, wondering if Greg's wife had bailed out on him. She'd met Annette only once, and she'd been left with the impression that Greg's wife spent money as fast or faster than he could make it. It hadn't taken Annette more than three minutes to inform Hannah that she'd been a classmate of Greg's at one of Colorado's most prestigious private schools, and that her parents lived on an estate in an exclusive suburb of Denver.

With a start, Hannah realized that Greg was gazing at her expectantly, and she responded with the first thing that popped into her mind. "Will you be staying in town for the Winter Carnival?"

"I wouldn't miss it." Greg started to grin, the same friendly grin Hannah recalled from her childhood, and the one she'd hoped would be smiling down at her in her senior prom picture. "It's a great chance to see some of the kids I used to know. Maybe we can all get together for dinner at the Lake Eden Inn."

"That would be great," Hannah agreed. The inn's owners, Dick and Sally Laughlin, had agreed to stay open for the Winter Carnival crowd. Between the Hartland Flour Bake- off last November and the party crowds at Christmas, the inn had generated good winter business. Sally had told Hannah that if the Winter Carnival turned into an annual event, they might be able to stay open year-round.

Greg glanced at his watch and frowned slightly. "Let's try to get together later, Hannah. I'd love to stand here and chew the fat, but it's almost time for me to go to work."

"You're working in Lake Eden?" Hannah was surprised that Greg had taken a temporary job. Perhaps his closeout sale hadn't gone very well.

"I'm working out of Grandma's condo and it's going just great. I've made more money in the past three weeks than I ever made in retail."

"Really?" Hannah was pleased for him. "What are you doing?"

"On-line stock trading. All I need is a computer and a modem and I can work anywhere."

Though Hannah was certainly no expert, she knew something about on-line stock trading. Dick Laughlin, a former stockbroker in Minneapolis, had written a series of articles about it for the Lake Eden Journal. "But isn't day-trading risky?"

"Only if you don't know what you're doing. You ought to try it. I could give you some tips."

"Not me. I don't have any money to spare. Everything I have is tied up in The Cookie Jar."

"But you don't need a lot of venture capital to get started. And you can always borrow the money and pay it back when your stock hits."

"Is that what you did?"

"No. I took the proceeds from my closeout sale and put every cent in Redlines. They're the hottest new Internet provider. When it peaked yesterday morning, I sold."

"And you made money?"

"I tripled my original investment, and it was more than enough to payoff my creditors. I put the rest of my profits in some other hot stocks, and they were way up at closing yesterday. I've got a system, Hannah. I figure that by the time I leave for Denver, I'll be worth close to a million."

The doubts in Hannah's mind grew by leaps and bounds. Dick Laughlin had called day-trading the newest form of gambling, and he'd warned of the consequences of investing borrowed money. Greg thought he had a system, and he'd been lucky once, but what if that system failed? Hannah was reminded of the spots on late-night television that advertised a sure-fire system for winning at blackjack. She figured that if a gambler really had a winning system, he wouldn't need to peddle books he'd written about it.

"I've got to run, Hannah. I want to be on-line when the market opens in New York. Sorry about that snowball."

Greg waved as he headed around the side of the building, and Hannah waved back. Then she walked down the stairs to the underground parking structure, feeling very uneasy. It was just as Dick had written in his articles. Some day-traders did make money playing the market, but there were others who guessed wrong and lost. At least Greg had paid off his creditors and he was only gambling with his profits.

Hannah went to the strip of outlets that ran along the garage wall and unplugged the cord that fed electricity to her head-bolt heater. She wound the cord around her front bumper, unlocked the door to her candy-apple red Suburban with "THE COOKIE JAR" lettered in gold on both sides, and climbed in behind the wheel.

The interior of her truck was frigid. Hannah was careful to breathe through her nose so she wouldn't fog up the inside of the windshield as she started the engine and backed out of her parking space. She drove up the ramp to ground level, flicked on her headlights, and took the winding street that led out of the complex. Her tires swished through the snow that had fallen during the night, as she broke trail for the other residents who would follow her tracks in an hour or two. Her truck was the only vehicle moving, and everything was dark and quiet. It was always like this on winter mornings, and Hannah often felt as if she were the sole survivor in a frozen wasteland.

As she approached Old Lake Road, she spotted headlights and flashing blue lights in the distance. Her sense of isolation vanished with a roar as a county snowplow lumbered by.

Hannah drove forward over the bank of packed snow and chunks of ice that the huge blade had left in its wake, and eased out onto Old Lake Road to follow the snowplow to town.

It was slow going, but Hannah didn't mind. As she drove, she thought about the great job of snow removal the state of Minnesota accomplished. Snowplow drivers were on call during the winter months, and at the first sign of a heavy snowfall, they were dispatched. Most other states didn't begin plowing until the snowstorm was over. By then, the snow had accumulated in deep drifts and it was more difficult to clear.

When she reached the town limits, Hannah turned off and let the snowplow carry on alone. She stepped on the gas, traveled another few blocks at well over the twenty-five-mile-per-hour limit, and detoured past the Lake Eden Community Center to see if the Winter Carnival committee had hung their advertising banner last night.

"Nice," Hannah commented as her headlights illuminated the blue banner. It had been ordered from the same company that manufactured the sweatshirts, and Mayor Bascomb had kicked in the extra money to exceed the ten-word maximum. The bright blue banner, strung up between two lampposts on opposite sides of the street, sported brilliant white snowflake letters proclaiming, "LAKE EDEN WELCOMES YOU TO THE WINTER CARNIVAL."

Wondering just how much extra money the mayor had paid from his own pocket, Hannah turned down Fourth Street, the block that housed her cookie shop and bakery. Though none neighboring businesses until nine, it seemed that everyone was out early. Yellow light spilled from the plate glass window of the Cut 'n Curl, Lake Eden's beauty shop, and Hannah spotted Bertie Straub bending over the shampoo chair, her hands suds-deep in a customer's hair. Bertie always charged double to come in early, and someone had paid dearly for a shampoo and set.

The New York Barbershop, next to the Cut 'n Curl, was also busy. A man Hannah couldn't recognize behind a face full of lather was getting an early morning shave. Hannah waved at the barber, Gus York, who had taken over his father's barbershop and added "New" to the name. The summer tourists who came in for haircuts assumed that Gus had been a barber in New York City, and they flocked to fill the row of chairs that lined the wall.

A surprised look crossed Hannah's face as she turned her attention to the shop just south of The Cookie Jar, the site of the Ezekiel Jordan House. The plate glass windows were covered with brown paper to discourage curious eyes, but there was a light on inside. Carrie must have collected Delores shortly after their early-morning conversation and they were already working.

Her shop was next, and Hannah's eyebrows shot up even further as she drove past. Her partner, Lisa Herman, had also come in early, and she was decorating the windows with a border of white snowflakes.

"Hi, Lisa," Hannah called out as she breezed in the back door a few moments later. "The windows look great."

"Thanks, Hannah." Lisa came through the swinging restaurant-style door with a smile on her face. Her petite form was swaddled in a baker's apron that had been hiked up in the middle and knotted in place with the apron strings.

"What are you doing here so early?" Hannah asked, hanging her parka on a hook by the back door. "Now that you're a partner, you can't earn overtime."

Lisa laughed. "I know, but I like to come in early. It's easy to get the baking done when there aren't any customers."

"You finished the baking?" Hannah's eyes widened in surprise as Lisa nodded. She'd mixed up twenty batches of cookie dough before they left for the night. If Lisa had baked them all, she must have come in at four in the morning!

"I love to bake. You know that, Hannah. And it was a good thing I came in early, because your sister called a couple of minutes ago. She said she tried your place, but she must have just missed you."

"Oh?" Hannah headed for the sink to wash her hands. "What did Andrea want?"

"She said to tell you that Janie Burkholtz is in town."

"I haven't seen Janie since Andrea's wedding." Hannah smiled as she lathered her hands. It would be good to see Janie again. Andrea and Janie had been best friends in high school, and then Janie had gone off to college. She'd come home a few times during her freshman year, but after her parents sold their Lake Eden house, Janie had spent the rest of her college vacations at their new condo in Florida. "Is Janie back for the Winter Carnival?"

"Yes, but it's not a pleasure trip. Andrea said she's working for Connie Mac as her personal assistant."

"Really!" Hannah was impressed. Connie MacIntyre was the star of a popular cable television cooking show, Cooking With Connie Mac. Almost everyone in Lake Eden stayed home from three to three-thirty on Saturday afternoons to watch Connie Mac banter with her guests, give advice on how to improve your marriage, and cook a complete dinner, all in thirty minutes. An attractive woman in her early fifties, everything she touched had turned to gold. Her cookbooks were bestsellers, her chain of kitchen boutique stores was thriving, her television show had a number one rating, and copies of her monthly magazine, Home Sweet Home, were flying from the shelves of the newsstands. The Connie Mac empire, run by her husband, Paul MacIntyre, was a multi-million-dollar industry.

"Janie's staying out at the inn with all the other Connie Mac people. Andrea and Bill are meeting her there for dinner tonight, and you're invited, too. Andrea said to tell you that Janie would love to see you again."

"I'd love to see her, too." Hannah said, wondering if she'd be up for a fancy dinner out after what promised to be a hectic day.

"There's one other thing. Mayor Bascomb dropped by to see you. He's at the barbershop now, but he's coming back after Gus finishes up with him."

"Did he tell you what he wanted?"

Lisa shook her head. "Not exactly. He just said he needed to talk to you about something really serious."

"I hope it's not a snag in the Winter Carnival plans." Hannah turned toward the door that led to the coffee and cookie shop. "He'll probably want coffee. I'll put it on."

"It's all made. I put it up right after he left."

"Bless you, Lisa," Hannah said gratefully. "Have I told you lately what a gem you are?"

Lisa gave a girlish giggle, and Hannah was reminded of just how young she was. Howie Levine, Lake Eden's only lawyer, had broached that subject when Hannah asked him to draft their partnership agreement. Hannah had cut off his objection at the pass by insisting that Lisa was a better worker and manager than most people twice her age. Steady, reliable, and capable of handling ,any emergency that came their way, Hannah was certain that she'd never regret signing over a third of her enterprise to Lisa.

"Sit down and I'll bring you a cup," Lisa offered, motioning to a stool at the work island. "I have a feeling you're going to need it."

"Because of Mayor Bascomb?"

"Yes. He was really upset, Hannah. I offered him a warm Peanut Butter Melt and he said he couldn't eat a thing."

"Oh-oh. That's not a good sign." Hannah gave a deep sigh as she sat down on the stool. Mayor Bascomb had an active sweet tooth and he was wild about her Peanut Butter Melts. For him to refuse to even taste his favorite cookie meant that there was definitely trouble in the making.

Peanut Butter Melts

Preheat oven to 375'F, rack in the middle position

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks) 2 cups white sugar*** 2 teaspoons vanilla 1/8 cup molasses (2 tablespoons) 1 ' teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder ' teaspoon salt 1 cup peanut butter (either smooth or crunchy, your choice) 2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 2 ' cups flour (no need to sift)

Microwave the butter in a microwave-safe mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar, vanilla, and molasses. Stir until it's blended, then add the baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix well.

***lf you like a sweeter cookie, add ' cup more of sugar or roll the dough balls in sugar before baking.

Measure out the peanut butter. (I spray the inside of my measuring cup with Pam so it won't stick) Add it to the bowl and mix it in. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir. Then add the flour, and mix until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

Form the dough into walnut-sized halls and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (If the dough is too sticky to form into balls, chill it for a few minutes and try again.)

Flatten the balls with a fork in a crisscross pattern. (If the fork sticky, either spray it with Pam or dip it in flour.

Bake at 375'F for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling.

My niece Tracey s Favorite PBJ snack: Spread jam on one cookie and stack another on top. Mother likes PBFs better (that s fudge frosting between the cookie layers).

-3-

That's all you want?" Hannah was surprised when the handsome mayor of Lake Eden nodded. She'd expected a problem of gigantic proportions, but all he'd asked to do was meet Connie MacIntyre at the Lake Eden Inn at noon today. "Of course I'll do it, no problem."

"Thanks, Hannah." The mayor brushed a nonexistent piece of lint from his jacket and reached out to take a Peanut Butter Melt from the plate Hannah had placed between them the stainless steel surface of the work island. "You know w these celebrities are. If someone doesn't meet her and take her on a guided tour, she'll feel slighted."

Hannah supposed that he was right. Connie Mac was a star and she'd expect to be treated like visiting royalty. It had been an incredible coup for Mayor Bascomb when a member of Connie Mac's staff had called to say that she'd be honored to attend their Winter Carnival and bake the official Winter Carnival cake for tomorrow evening's banquet. Hannah, who seldom took things at face value, suspected at the "Cooking Sweetheart" hadn't agreed to attend this small-town event purely out of the goodness of her heart. One of Connie Mac's kitchen boutiques was opening at the Tri-County Mall three days from now, and promoting it at the Winter Carnival was a smart business move.

"Make sure you drive past the venues on your way to town," Mayor Bascomb instructed between bites of his cookie. "Then take her to Jordan High so she can visit the hospitality hub and see the shuttle sleighs."

"Will do."

"Then drive her to the community center and show her the library. Marge is looking forward to meeting her."

Hannah grinned at that obvious understatement. Marge Beeseman, their volunteer librarian, had been positively ecstatic when Connie Mac had agreed to sign copies of her new cookbook as a fund-raiser for the library. According to Delores, Marge had paid Bertie Straub a small fortune to cover up the gray and give her a new, sophisticated hairstyle.

"When you're through with Marge, take her down to the banquet room. She wants to go over the menu with Edna."

"Got it," Hannah responded, wondering how Edna Ferguson, Jordan High's head cook, would react if Connie Mac suggested changes in the menu. The food for the banquet had already been ordered, and Edna had done most of the preparation in advance. "Where shall I take her after that?"

"The Ezekiel Jordan House. Your mother promised she'd have it ready by noon. I called her yesterday to see if I could drop in for a quick peek, but she won't allow anyone in until it's completely finished. You know how your mother is, Hannah. She's treating this whole thing like a state secret and there's no reason she should . . ." Mayor Bascomb stopped speaking as the back door opened and Delores stuck her head in.

"Speak of the devil," Hannah murmured, and then she put on a bright smile for her mother's benefit. "Hi, Mother. Is the house finished?"

"Not yet, dear. I just came over to ask you about a very peculiar rolling pin I found with Mrs. Jordan's kitchen utensils. Hello, Ricky-Ticky. I didn't expect to find you here."

Hannah covered her gasp of startled laughter with a cough. Her mother was the only person in town who dared call the mayor by his childhood nickname. Hannah's grandparents had lived next door to the Bascombs, and Delores had been his babysitter one summer.

"Morning, Delores." Mayor Bascomb gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Hannah could tell that he didn't appreciate being reminded of those early childhood years. According to Delores, he'd been a spoiled brat. "I've. got to run, ladies. My meeting with the steering committee starts in fifteen minutes. The cookies are delicious, Hannah. I'm going to pick up a bag from Lisa on the way out and treat the committee."

Hannah watched as the mayor clamped his hat on his head and headed toward the swinging door that led into the coffee shop. The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to her mother with a frown. "I think you embarrassed him when you called him Ricky-Ticky."

"Of course I did. That's exactly what I intended." Delores walked over to take the mayor's stool and reached out for a cookie. "He's been acting like a big shot lately and it's time someone reminded him that he had his diapers changed like every other child in Lake Eden. Now, about that rolling pin, Hannah. . . it's carved on the outside with little panels of designs."

Hannah nodded. "It's probably a Springerle rolling pin. They're used to make a type of rolled German cookie."

"Oh, yes. One of your great-grandmother Elsa's friends used to bake them every Christmas. I always had to eat one to be polite, but I never liked them. They were flavored with licorice."

"Close enough," Hannah said, not wanting to get into a discussion about the subtle differences between anise and licorice. "Most women who had Springerle rolling pins liked to show them off by hanging them on the kitchen wall. They were handed down from generation to generation, and sometimes the carvings were personalized."

"I'll put it on the wall above the kitchen table,' Delores said, finishing her cookie and rising to her feet. "I've got to get back, Hannah. We're almost ready to hang the parlor curtains."

"Hold on a second." Hannah carried the plate over to the counter and transferred the cookies to one of her distinctive carrier bags. It was a miniature shopping bag, white with red handles, and the words, "THE COOKIE JAR," were stamped in red block letters on the front. "Take these with you. Carrie loves my Peanut Butter Melts."

"I know she does. So does Norman." Delores frowned slightly as she took the bag. "You've been neglecting him lately, Hannah. Carrie tells me that Ronni Ward has been in twice this month to have her teeth cleaned, and you know what that means!"

"Her teeth are dirty?" Hannah teased, knowing full well what her mother had meant.

"Don't be flippant, Hannah. Norman's single and he's got eyes in his head. Just in case you've forgotten, Ronni won the Eden Lake Bikini Contest three years in a row."

Hannah sobered as her mother went out the door. She found it difficult to picture Norman with a beauty queen, but thinking about it gave her an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She told herself that it couldn't be jealousy. Just because she dated Norman occasionally and their mothers continually tried to push them together didn't mean that she was serious about him. All the same, it certainly couldn't hurt to give Norman a call to let him know that she was still alive and kicking.

Hannah felt a real sense of accomplishment as she glanced around her kitchen. Trays of cookies filled the slots on the baker's racks and covered every inch of the counter. It had been a productive morning. While Lisa had waited on their customers, Hannah had baked more cookies. Even if the Winter Carnival visitors were as ravenous as a pack of starving wolves, they'd have enough cookies to last through tomorrow morning's events. By then there would be fresh cookies, and Hannah planned to drop them off at the warm-up tents by noon at the latest.

Unable to resist tasting her work, Hannah plucked an Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookie from a nearby rack and nibbled at the edge. The taste of butter and sugar blossomed on her tongue and she smiled in satisfaction. Her cookies were perfectly baked, crisp on the outside and sweet and flaky inside.

There was a knock at the back door, and Hannah ditched the cookie in her apron pocket. She'd gone to her mother's house on Tuesday for their weekly mother-daughter dinner and saved herself from store-bought pound cake with canned whipped cream, pre-chopped nuts, and jarred caramel syrup by claiming !bat she was on a diet.

"Hannah? You're here, aren't you?"

It was her sister's voice. Hannah retrieved the cookie from her pocket and opened the door.

Andrea blew in on a gust of wind, balancing a stack of real estate flyers in her arms. "Did Lisa give you my message?"

"Of course. It'll be great to see Janie again."

"I know. I'm really excited about it." Andrea set her flyers down on the only available space, the top of a stool at the work island. "Good heavens! How many cookies did you bake?"

"Enough to last until noon tomorrow. The girls from Mrs. Baxter's home ec class are setting up food stands in the warm-up tents."

"If the weather stays this cold, they're bound to have lots of customers."

Hannah noticed that Andrea was shivering, and she poured her a mug of coffee. "Here. You look half-frozen."

"I am. Is that decaffeinated?"

"No. Do you want me to put on a pot?"

"Absolutely not. I need all the caffeine I can get this morning. AI wants me to drop off flyers all over town. I even have to drive some out to the Lake Eden Inn."

Hannah placed a plate of Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies in front her sister. They were Andrea's favorite. "You'd better have some chocolate for energy."

"That's a great excuse; I'll take it." Andrea grabbed a cookie and took a huge bite. "Mbsoluphly muov mmm-meese."

"I know you do." Hannah interpreted her sister's mumbled comment, "Absolutely love these," correctly. "I'll take e the flyers to the inn for you. I have to go out there at noon to t meet Connie Mac."

Andrea swallowed her bite of cookie in a rush. "You're meeting Connie Mac?"

"That's right. Mayor Bascomb's tied up with a meeting and he asked me to give her a tour of Lake Eden."

"You have all the luck!" Andrea sounded envious. "Let me go with you. Please, Hannah?"

Hannah remembered Tom Sawyer and the whitewashed fence. Andrea would be a big help on the tour, but she didn't want to seem too eager. "I don't know. I'm supposed to do it alone. Are you hoping to run into Janie?"

"Janie won't be there. She told me she'd be out at the mall most of the day, helping Mr. MacIntyre with the boutique. But I'd just love to meet Connie Mac. I'm her biggest fan, and I can help you give the tour. You know how good I am with people."

"True," Hannah conceded. Andrea had the knack for turning a stranger into a friend in five minutes flat. It was one of the reasons that she was so successful as a real estate agent.

"Can I, Hannah? I'll do something for you, I promise. Anything you want."

Hannah began to smile. The expression on Andrea's face was the very same one she'd worn in sixth grade when she'd begged to wear Hannah's pearl confirmation earrings to school. "Well. . . I guess so."

"Oh, thank you, Hannah!" Andrea glanced down at her red plaid jacket and tailored slacks. "I wonder if I should dash home and change clothes."

"You look fine," Hannah said, averting what would surely turn out to be an hour of primping. "We have to leave in thirty minutes, and we don't want to be late."

Andrea glanced at the clock that hung over the sink. "You're right. We certainly wouldn't want to make Connie Mac wait for us. Maybe we should leave now."

"Half an hour," Hannah insisted. amused at her sister's eagerness. "It only takes twenty-five minutes to drive out to the inn."

"All right, if you think so. Maybe I should drive."

"Good idea," Hannah agreed quickly. She'd been meaning to clean out her truck for weeks, but she hadn't gotten around to it yet. Andrea's car was always pristine because she used it to transport her potential buyers.

There was a knock on the back door, but before Hannah could get up from her stool, Delores opened it herself. "Oh, good. I'm glad you're here, Andrea. Now both of you can see the Ezekiel Jordan House. Put on your coats and come right over. And use the front door so you can get the full effect."

The door closed again and Andrea looked amused as she turned to Hannah. "Nothing's changed. Mother still orders us around like she did when we were kids."

"I know," Hannah said. getting up to grab her parka. "But it's not just us. Mother orders everyone around."

"I can't believe Mother put the whole thing together in less than a month," Andrea commented as they emerged from the back door of the Ezekiel Jordan House and walked across the snow to her Volvo.

Hannah waited until her sister had unlocked the doors and then she slid into the passenger seat. "I'm just as impressed as you are."

"It's bound to be the highlight of the Winter Carnival." Andrea started her engine and pulled out into the alley. "Especially since she's got Ezekiel Jordan's original rose- wood desk. What I wouldn't give for a desk like that! The gold inlay is just spectacular."

Hannah thought about the re-creation they'd just seen as they drove down the alley. Delores had a real knack for arranging period furniture for display, and despite her concern about Abigail Jordan's kitchen utensils, Hannah had found only two out of place. "I liked the parlor the best. It looked so authentic, I could just see Ezekiel and Abigail sitting on their horsehide sofa watching television."

"Television?" Andrea turned to give her a sharp look, but then she noticed the grin on Hannah's face. "Stop teasing me, Hannah. You know they didn't have television a hundred years ago!"

"That must be the reason they had so many children. No electricity. No television. There was nothing else to do at night."

Andrea did her best to appear disapproving, but she blew it by laughing. "You're incorrigible."

Hannah leaned back in her seat and enjoyed the ride through town. The streets were bustling with activity today. Everyone was getting ready for the Winter Carnival.

"You should have told me that Norman was going to take period portraits in Ezekiel's parlor," Andrea said, pulling out on Old Lake Road and picking up speed. "I could have signed up early."

"I didn't know. I haven't talked to Norman for a week or so. It's a great idea, though. I love those old sepia-toned pictures."

"Mother told me that Norman's going all out for the Winter Carnival. He hired another dentist to fill in for him at the clinic, he's taking all those portraits to raise money for the historical society, and he's even judging a couple of the contests. Norman's really a wonderful man."

"It sounds like Mother converted you."

"What do you mean?"

"She's been singing Norman's praises to me all week. I think she sees a potential son-in-law slipping away."

Andrea took her eyes off the road for a moment. "Why? Is Norman dating someone else?"

"Not yet. Watch the road, Andrea. There's an icy patch up ahead." Hannah waited until her sister had turned her attention back to the road. "Carrie told Mother that Ronni Ward's been having her teeth cleaned too often."

"Ronni Ward and Norman?" Andrea thought about it for a moment. "That's not quite as crazy as it sounds. Norman makes good money, and Ronni always said she wanted to marry a doctor."

"Norman's a dentist," Hannah pointed out.

"But people still call him Dr. Rhodes. That's all that matters to Ronni. She always wanted to be Mrs. Dr. Somebody-or-other."

"Maybe she should concentrate on Reverend Knudson. He's a doctor of divinity."

Andrea laughed, and Hannah knew she was imagining their dour Lutheran minister with Lake Eden's three-time bikini queen. "Maybe you should call him to remind him that you're still available."

"Reverend Knudson?"

"No, Norman."

"I will. But I thought you were rooting for Mike as a brother-in-law."

"I adore Mike; you know that, and so does Bill. Bill says that he's the best partner he's ever had. But it's like Mother always says: Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

"So you think that I should keep dating both of them?"

"It couldn't hurt. You've got to play the odds, Hannah. Think of how you'd feel if you ditched Norman and Mike didn't propose. Or vice versa."

"Disaster," Hannah said, nodding solemnly. And then she f turned away to hide a grin. Andrea was just like their mother. They were both trying to marry her off, and the event seemed to matter much more than the identity of the groom.

Connie Mac's limo driver seemed intent on his driving, and that suited Hannah just fine. She'd never been any good I at uttering polite banalities in the name of social grace.

Connie Mac had arrived at the inn an hour behind schedule, and she'd offered the services of her personal limo and driver for the tour. Hannah had climbed in front to direct the driver to the venues, and Andrea, who was sitting in the back with Connie Mac, had explained which events would be held there. After a brief stop at Jordan High, where they'd viewed the displays, examined the shuttle sleighs, and spoken to the principal, Mr. Purvis, they were on their way to the Lake Eden Community Center to meet Marge Beeseman at the library and to check in with Edna Ferguson.

Everyone who was walking down Main Street stopped to stare as Connie Mac's limo passed by. That didn't surprise Hannah. Connie Mac was the first big celebrity to come to Lake Eden, and her limo was definitely an eye-catcher. It was painted peach, Connie Mac's favorite color, and her name was lettered in flowing gold script on the doors. Even though the windows were tinted so that no one could see in, anyone who could read knew exactly who was riding inside.

The intercom chimed as they neared the community center, and Connie Mac's voice came over the speaker. "Pull up in front of the door, Spencer."

"Yes, ma'am." The driver pulled up next to the curb in a no-parking zone and hopped out of the limo to open the door. As Hannah watched him usher Connie Mac out, she wondered if Spencer ever felt silly in his uniform. It was black, the type that chauffeurs always wore in the movies, but his shirt and tie were peach to match the color of the limo.

Andrea and Hannah scrambled out of the limo with no assistance from Spencer. He obviously knew his priorities. They followed Connie Mac up the front steps that led to the community center and into the lobby.

"This won't take more than a few minutes," Connie Mac told Spencer. "Park in the lot and watch the door. When I come out, pull up in front."

"Yes, ma' am," Spencer said, tipping his cap and turning to go.

"Spencer?"

Spencer halted and turned to face her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I've warned you before to wait until I dismiss you. I won't remind you again."

Spencer shifted from foot to foot and dropped his gaze to the brown indoor-outdoor carpeting that covered the floor of the lobby. The color crept up the back of his neck, and Hannah knew he was embarrassed at being reprimanded in front of them.

"Your notepad, Spencer?"

Spencer responded, pulling a small leather-bound notebook and pen from his pocket. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Call the chef at the inn and tell him I want free-range capon tonight, no substitutes."

"Yes, ma' am. Would you care for a salad?"

"Endive, radicchio, and butter lettuce with a vinaigrette of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar mixed at tableside. No potatoes. In a small town like this, they'll probably be french fries."

Hannah bit her tongue to keep silent. Her friend, Sally Laughlin, was the chef at the inn and her french fries were legendary.

"Rolls with the salad course, but make sure they're not commercial," Connie Mac continued, "and fresh raspberries drizzled with Grand Marnier for dessert."

Spencer jotted that down and then he looked up from his notepad. "Will there be anything else, ma'am?"

"Contact the desk and have them send up a maid to unpack for me. She should hang everything on padded hangers and press anything that's wrinkled." Connie Mac stopped and frowned slightly. "Make sure someone from my staff is there to keep an eye on her. I brought some of my good jewelry for the banquet tomorrow evening. Do you know if the inn has a safe?"

"No ma'am."

"Call the desk and ask. And tell them to send a bottle of properly chilled Pouilly Fuisse to my suite." Connie Mac paused and a tiny frown appeared on her forehead. "I know there's something else, but I can't think of it right now. That's all, Spencer. You may go."

"Thank you, ma' am."

Spencer tipped his hat again and this time he made it out the door. Hannah tried to catch her sister's eye, but Andrea seemed starstruck and completely oblivious to the fact that the Cooking Sweetheart had just embarrassed her chauffeur, insulted Sally's culinary skills, and questioned the honesty of the maids at the inn.

-4-

"I'm just so thrilled to meet you, Mrs. MacIntyre." Marge Beeseman's voice shook slightly as she reached out to take Connie Mac's hand. Her brown hair was clipped short and frosted with blond, but it was clear to Hannah that Marge's new "do" hadn't succeeded as a total confidence builder. "Your cookbooks arrived yesterday, all two hundred of them."

Connie Mac smiled the sweetest smile that Hannah had seen yet, the very same smile she used on her show. "You really must call me Connie Mac. 'Mrs. MacIntyre' is simply too formal. May I call you Marge?"

"Of course," Marge breathed, obviously impressed by Connie Mac's tailored suit of peach wool and her gracious manner. "Just follow me and I'll show you the table I set up for your book signing. It's going to be such a wonderful fund-raiser for the library! Everyone in town wants to meet you and buy an autographed copy."

Connie Mac frowned as they approached the table that Marge had set up at the back of the library. "This is where you want me to sign my books?"

"Yes, I set it up this way on purpose. When people come in, they'll get to see the whole library on their way to your table."

"That's certainly important," Connie Mac said pleasantly, but Hannah could tell that she wasn't pleased. "I have an idea, Marge. I think we should move my book signing to the lobby of the community center."

"But we want people to see the library. If you're in the lobby, they won't come all the way back here."

Connie Mac linked arms with Marge and walked her back toward the entrance of the library. "Let's put our heads together, Marge. I'm sure that between the two of us, we can come up with a solution to our little problem. We have to decide which is more important, raising funds for the library, or giving people a tour."

"They're both important," Marge insisted, digging in her heels.

"Of course they are, but how about this? I'll sign copies of Sweets For Your Sweetie in the lobby and you'll sit right next to me at the table. Then, when people ask about the library, you can tell them about it and invite them to come back to visit when the Winter Carnival is over. With all the other activities going on, I doubt they'll do much reading this week anyway."

Hannah waited for Marge to explode. The Lake Eden Community Library was her baby. She was proud of what she'd done and it was only natural for her to want everyone to see it.

But the expected explosion didn't come. Marge just looked flattered as she asked, "You want me to sit with you?"

"Of course I do. The mayor told me how instrumental you've been in planning this library. He said it was all your idea and you should take credit for it." Connie Mac patted Marge's arm. "And I must admit that I have a selfish reason for wanting you to sit with me, Marge."

"Really?"

"Most people don't know this about me, but I'm really a very shy person and I just hate the idea of sitting in the lobby all alone. If you're with me, you can introduce me to all your friends."

Marge preened a bit. "I could certainly do that. I know everyone in Lake Eden. I was born and raised here."

"I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time together," Connie Mac said, stepping out of the library and into the hallway. "I'll see you tomorrow, Marge."

Hannah rolled her eyes as she followed Andrea and Connie Mac down the stairs to the banquet room. The Cooking Sweetheart was a steamroller when it came to get- ting her way, but she had charm and she knew when to dish it out. After only one dose, Marge Beeseman, one of the most obstinate women in Lake Eden, had caved in like an underbaked cake.

"Edna? We're here," Hannah called out as they entered the banquet room in the basement of the community center.

Edna, a thin woman with wiry gray hair that had been permed to death, bustled out of the kitchen. She was wearing a new, sparkling-white apron that Hannah knew was her version of "all dressed up."

"Hannah, Andrea." Edna smiled as she greeted them and then she turned to Connie Mac. "I'm real pleased to meet you. Mrs. MacIntyre. Where's the cake?"

Hannah choked back a laugh. Edna had always been blunt. But it didn't seem to faze Connie Mac, because she just smiled.

"It's in my supply van and my driver is bringing it," she told Edna. "It's six tiers high, the decorations are white on white, and I worked on it for simply hours last night. Where do you think we should display it?"

"We could set up a card table," Edna suggested.

Connie Mac considered it for a moment and then she sighed. "I'd rather not do that. Card tables are so unstable." She pointed to the pedestal in the center of the room. "How about that pedestal? It looks sturdy enough."

"We can't use that." Edna shook her head. "That's where the crowns for the Prince and Princess of Winter are going to be displayed."

"But we could put them on that card table you mentioned. The pedestal is just the right size for my cake."

Edna looked as if she wanted to object, but she didn't. That made Hannah suspect she'd been warned to be extra nice to their favored celebrity. "I'll have to ask Mayor Bascomb."

"I'm sure he'll agree. After all, my cake is the star of the show, so to speak. I'll have one of my people rig up a spotlight and it'll create a wonderful photo op right here in the center of the room. I think we should pose for a picture together, don't you?"

"Well. . . I don't know about that. I'm going to be pretty busy in the kitchen."

"It'll only take a few minutes. I'd really like to have a picture of us together, Edna." Connie Mac paused and looked a bit embarrassed. "You don't mind if I call you Edna, do you?"

Edna shook her head. "Edna's fine. That's what everybody calls me."

"Good. And I hope you'll call me Connie Mac. I'd like to be friends since we'll be working on the banquet together."

"You want to help me cook for the banquet?"

Connie Mac gave a sweet little laugh. "I wouldn't dream of interfering, especially since the mayor told me that you're the best cook in the county. Have you heard about my new kitchen boutique at the Tri-County Mall?"

"'Course I have. Your grand opening's on Monday. Rod Metcalf ran an article about it in the Lake Eden Journal."

"I do hope you'll come out to take a peek, Edna. It's going to be our largest store, and you have no idea how many new things I've ordered! As a matter of fact, I went down to our main warehouse in Minneapolis this morning to see what I could find for you."

Edna looked surprised. "You brought me something from your boutique?"

"It was the least I could do. After all, you're organizing the whole banquet. I chose a dinner setting for two hundred, including glassware, linens, silver, and some simply lovely decorations for the tables. It's a gift from the new Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique."

Edna seemed stunned at this largesse. When she recovered, she gasped, "Well, my goodness! We could use those dishes, that's for sure. Whenever we throw a big supper like this, Rose over at the caf' lets us use her plates and silverware. Problem is, we have to schedule it after she closes. And since Rose doesn't use tablecloths, we have to make do with the paper kind."

"Those days are over now, Edna. You'll have your own things." Connie Mac reached out to give Edna's arm a friendly pat. "Could we go into the kitchen for a minute? I'd love take a peek at the banquet menu and see if there's anything else you need from my boutique."

Andrea waited until Connie Mac had gone into the kitchen with Edna and then she grabbed Hannah's arm. "Did you hear that? A complete dinner service for two hundred! Isn't Connie Mac the sweetest, most generous person you've ever met?"

Hannah grunted, settling for the most noncommittal reply she could make. She was no accountant, but she was willing to bet that everything Connie Mac had donated to the community center would qualify as a tax write-off.

"It's just wonderful to have this time with Connie Mac," Andrea gushed. "When we get back to the limo, I'm going to ask her about her recipes."

"Recipes? Who are you trying to kid, Andrea? You never cook."

"But Connie Mac doesn't know that. And if I did cook, I'd follow her recipes. There was one last week that Bill would adore, meatloaf with three different sauces."

"I saw that episode," Hannah said, and then she clamped her mouth shut. Connie Mac's recipe for a meatloaf dinner was totally ridiculous. There was no way. any busy Minnesota housewife would have the time and energy to mix up a meatloaf, wrap it en cro'te, prepare three different sauces, drizzle them artistically around the lip of an oversized china plate, and arrange slices of meatloaf in an overlapping design that was garnished with piping hot deep-fried parsley.

"Didn't it look just wonderful?" Andrea insisted.

"Yes," Hannah admitted truthfully. It had been a beautiful presentation, but she suspected that how food looked on television was a lot more important to Connie Mac than how it actually tasted. "You seem stressed, Hannah," Andrea said, looking concerned. "Are you worried about getting back to The Cookie Jar?"

No, I'm worried that my tongue will start bleeding from biting it so many times, Hannah thought, but she didn't say it. Andrea had just presented her with an acceptable excuse for bowing out "You're right, Andrea. I still have a lot of baking to do. Could you finish the rest of the tour without me? All you have to do is show Connie Mac the Ezekiel Jordan house and escort her back out to the inn."

"Of course. No problem." Andrea looked very pleased. "I'll stop by later to tell you how it went."

"Great I'll dash back to The Cookie Jar then. Make my excuses, will you?" Hannah shrugged into her parka and practically flew up the stairs, leaving Andrea to cope with the biggest sweet-talker and manipulator ever to set foot in Lake Eden.

"Try this," Hannah said, handing Lisa one of the blueberry muffins she'd baked for the Winter Carnival judges.

"Gladly." Lisa took a bite and a rapturous expression spread over her face. "It's perfect I love blueberry muffins."

"So do I. I just wish I had fresh blueberries."

"The frozen ones are almost as good." Lisa took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "My blueberry muffins taste like vanilla, unless you happen to bite into a blueberry. Yours taste like blueberries all the way through. How did you do that?"

"Blueberry pie filling. I mixed some in before I added the frozen blueberries. The dough turns a little purple, but I like the end result."

"So do I. They're absolutely delicious." Lisa finished the last bite and picked up the plastic boxes that Hannah had filled with muffins. "Do you want me to put these in the cooler?'

"They don't need to be refrigerated. Just stack them on a shelf in the pantry and I'll deliver them tomorrow morning."

Lisa opened the pantry door and stashed the muffins on a shelf. Then she came back and sat down again. "I still can't believe that Connie Mac asked your mother to repaint the kitchen walls."

"And I still can't believe that Mother actually agreed to do it." Hannah just shook her head. Andrea had reported in right after the final leg of Connie Mac's tour, and she'd de- scribed everything that had happened at the Ezekiel Jordan House. Not only had Connie Mac asked Delores to paint the kitchen walls peach so that she could have her picture taken in the first mayor's kitchen, she'd also managed to talk Norman into coming in late this afternoon for a special portrait sitting.

Lisa glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's almost six. They must be through with the pictures by now."

"Maybe, but I have a feeling that Connie Mac was late. I think she likes to make people wait for her."

"She's on a power trip?"

"That's the impression I got. She sure knows how to make people do what she wants. You should have seen Mr. Purvis cave in when she asked him to reserve the special sleigh for her. He couldn't agree fast enough."

Lisa looked puzzled. "But I thought that sleigh was for the Prince and Princess of Winter."

"Not anymore. They're riding in one of the regular sleighs now. Connie Mac can get anything out of anybody."

"Not you."

"I'm a hard case." Hannah began to grin. "Actually, that's another reason I bailed out of the tour'. I didn't want to find out what Connie Mac wanted from me."

The phone rang and Lisa got up to answer it. She listened for a moment and then she handed it to Hannah. "It's Janie Burkholtz. She's calling from Connie Mac's cell phone."

'Great," Hannah said with a smile. She hadn't spoken to Janie for years. "Hi, Janie. I'm sorry we missed you when Andrea and I came out to the inn. What's up?"

"Your mother said I should call you, Hannah." Janie sounded on the edge of panic. "We've got a real disaster on our hands. Mrs. MacIntyre's supply van went into the ditch on the way here and the Winter Carnival cake was ruined."

"That's terrible. Was anyone hurt?"

"No. The driver's fine and there were no passengers. All the other supplies came through just fine, but Mrs. MacIntyre is determined to bake a replacement cake and we have to find some commercial ovens to use."

"How about the school?" Hannah suggested.

"I already spoke to Mr. Purvis and they're replacing the kitchen floor this weekend. And I tried the inn, but Sally's serving hot appetizers tonight and she's using all of her ovens."

"The kitchen at the community center?"

"That won't work either. Edna's baking rolls and she'll be there until midnight or later."

"Really?" Hannah's surprise was reflected in her voice. "I thought Edna was buying breadsticks and setting them out in baskets."

"She was, but Mrs. MacIntyre thought crescent rolls would be a nice touch with the salad course."

"I see," Hannah said and sent sympathetic thoughts Edna's way. Baking crescent rolls for two hundred guests was a lot of work.

"Your mother suggested that I call you before you left for the night She thought maybe we could use your ovens."

Hannah hesitated, She didn't like the idea of Connie Mac baking in her kitchen, but Janie was on the spot and the Winter Carnival cake was important, "Sure, Janie. We were just getting ready to lock up. Come on over when you're through with the pictures. We'll wait."

"We're all through. We finished a couple of minutes ago," Janie said, still sounding stressed. "Thank you, Hannah. You don't know how much this means to me."

"No problem."

"Can you hold on for just a second? Mrs. Macintyre wants something."

"Sure. Take your time." Hannah covered the mouthpiece and turned to Lisa, who was staring at her curiously. "Connie Mac wants to use our ovens. Her supply van went into the ditch and the Winter Carnival cake is mush. I told Janie they could bake here."

"Then I'd better make sure everything's clean." Lisa jumped up and grabbed a bottle of cleaning solution and a sponge. She wiped down the door of the cooler and then she started to giggle. "What?"

"Now you know what Connie Mac wants from you. And you gave it to her, just like everybody else in town."

"Hannah?" Janie came back on the line. "Mrs. Macintyre is very grateful and she wants to do something for you in return.'

"That's not necessary, Janie."

"But she insists. Norman is going to bring over his equipment and take Mrs. Macintyre's picture in your kitchen. She thought you'd want to hang it over your counter in the coffee shop."

"That's. . . uh. . . very nice of her." Hannah hung up the phone and snorted. Hell would freeze over before she'd hang Connie Mac's picture over the counter in her shop!

Blue Blueberry Muffins

Preheat oven to 375'F, rack in the middle position

' cup melted butter (1 ' sticks) 1 cup sugar 2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 2 teaspoons baking powder ' teaspoon salt 1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries (no need to thaw if they're frozen) ' cup blueberry pie filling 2 cups plus one tablespoon flour (no need to sift) ' cup milk

Crumb Topping: ' cup sugar 1/3 cup flour ' cup softened butter (' stick)

Grease the bottoms only of a 12-cup muffin pan (or line the cups with cupcake papers). Melt the butter. Mix in the sugar. Then add the beaten eggs, baking powder, and salt, and mix thoroughly.

Put one tablespoon of the flour in a plastic bag with your cup of fresh or frozen blueberries. Shake it gently to coat the blueberries, and leave them in the bag for now.

Add half the remaining two cups flour to your bowl and mix it in with half the milk. Then add the rest of the flour and milk and mix thoroughly.

Here comes the fun part: Add ' cup blueberry pie filling to your bowl and mix it in. (Your dough will turn a shade of blue, but don't let that stop you ' once the muffins are baked, they'll look just fine.) When your dough is thoroughly mixed, fold in the flour-coated fresh or frozen blueberries.

Fill the muffin tins three-quarters full and set them aside. If you have dough left over, grease the bottom of a small tea-bread loaf pan and fill it with your remaining dough.

The crumb topping: Mix the sugar and the flour in a small bowl. Add the softened butter and cut it in until it's crumbly. (You can also do this in a food processor with hard butter using the steel blade.)

Sprinkle the crumb topping over your muffins and bake them in a 375'F oven for 25 to 30 minutes. (The tea-bread should bake about 10 minutes longer than the muffins.)

While your muffins are baking, divide the rest of your blueberry pie filling into ' cup portions and pop it in the freezer. I use paper cups to hold it and freeze them inside a freezer bag. All you have to do is thaw a cup the next time you want to make a batch of Blue Blueberry Muffins.

When your muffins are baked, set the muffin pan on a wire rack to cool for at least 30 minutes. (The muffins need to cool in the pan for easy removal.) Then just tip them out of the cups and enjoy.

These are wonderful when they're slightly warm, but the blueberry flavor will intensify if you store them in a covered container overnight.

Grandma Ingrid's muffin pans were large enough to hold all the dough from this recipe. My muffin tins are smaller; and I always make a loaf of Blue Blueberry tea bread with the leftover dough. If I make it for Mother; I leave off the crumb topping. She loves to eat it sliced, toasted, and buttered for breakfast.

-5-

Once Connie Mac, Janie, and Norman arrived at The Cookie Jar, there was a flurry of activity. While Lisa showed Janie how to operate the kitchen appliances and Norman took Connie Mac's picture, Hannah loaded Lisa's car with the cookies they'd baked so that she could drop them off at Jordan High on her way home.

"Okay. Janie's all set." Lisa came out the back door just as Hannah had finished stacking the last box of cookies in her trunk. "These cookies go to Mrs. Baxter's room?"

"Right. The girls will help you unload them. They're all working late, making sandwiches for tomorrow. They're going to have ham and cheese, and egg salad."

"At least they won't have to worry about the mayo going bad in weather like this," Lisa said with a shiver, opening her car door and sliding into the driver's seat. "See you tomorrow morning, Hannah."

"I don't think so."

"Oh? Are you taking the morning off!"

"No, you are,' Hannah told her. "You did the lion's share of the work today, and I'll pick up the slack tomorrow morning. The earliest I want to see you here is a quarter to twelve."

A delighted grin spread over Lisa's face. "Dad's been wanting to go out to see the venues and I just didn't have time c take him. But are you sure you can spare me, Hannah?"

"Sure, I'm sure. We shouldn't have much business. Almost everybody in town will be out at the venues. I'll have plenty of time to bake, and when you come in I'll run the cookies out to the warm-up tents."

"Okay," Lisa agreed, smiling broadly. "Thanks, Hannah Dad's going to be so excited when I tell him."

Once Lisa had left with her sugary cargo, Hannah went back inside. The sight that greeted her when she opened the door made her blood pressure go through the roof. Her whole kitchen was in the process of being rearranged, and Connie Mac hadn't even bothered to ask her for permission!

Norman walked over to her, carrying his bulky camera bag. "Come on, Hannah. Let's get out of here."

"Just a second," Hannah said, heading over to the counter to grab her purse before Connie Mac could rearrange that, too. Then she turned to Janie, who looked as if she could use a dose of blood-pressure medicine herself. "Do you have everything you need, Janie?"

"Yes. Thanks, Hannah." Janie moved closer and lowered her voice. "Don't worry. I'll put everything back and make sure your kitchen is spotless before we leave. And if there's ever anything I can do for you, just. . ."

"The mixer's in the wrong place, Janie." Connie Mac interrupted their conversation. "You know I like to stand in the center of the work space."

Janie dutifully moved the mixer, but there were no electrical outlets at the center of the work island. "The cord doesn't reach, Mrs. Macintyre."

"Then get an extension. Honestly, Janie. It doesn't take a e college degree to know that."

Hannah pulled open a drawer, got out an appliance extension cord, and handed it to Janie. "Good luck," she muttered under her breath.

"Thanks," Janie whispered back. "She's on a real tear tonight."

Connie Mac clapped her hands to get Janie's attention. "Let's go, Janie. I know you're on overtime and you want to get in as many hours as you can, but I'm not going to pay you if you don't work."

Hannah followed Janie to the work island and stepped right up to the Cooking Sweetheart. "Excuse me, Connie Mac."

"Yes, Hannah?" Connie Mac put on a smile for Hannah's benefit.

"I need to give Janie some last-minute instructions and then I'm out of your hair." When Connie Mac nodded, Hannah gave Janie's arm a comforting squeeze and drew her away to the far end of the kitchen. She'd seen enough of Connie Mac to know that it couldn't be pleasant to work for her. "Okay, Janie. When you're all through, leave by the back door. Just push in the button to lock it behind you."

"Don't worry, Hannah. I'll test it to make sure it's locked."

"Thanks. Goodnight, Janie." Hannah shrugged into her parka and headed back to Norman, deliberately ignoring Connie Mac. When she got to the door she turned again, almost tripping Norman, who was close on her heels. "One more thing. I baked Blue Blueberry Muffins this afternoon and they're in the pantry."

"The same muffins you used to bake when I stayed overnight with Andrea?"

"That's right. Just help yourself if you get hungry."

"Janie can't eat sweets," Connie Mac warned, giving Janie a stern look. "She has to lose at least twenty pounds before we start taping for next season."

A dull flush rose in Janie's cheeks. Connie Mac had embarrassed her, and Hannah had the urge to throttle the Cooking Sweetheart. Janie had always been full-figured, even in high school. And while it was true that she was far from model-thin, she wore clothes that flattered her figure and she was extremely attractive. "Why does Janie need to lose weight? She looks great."

Connie Mac turned to Hannah with a frown. It was clear she wasn't used to being contradicted. "I realize that Janie is your friend, but facts are facts and she's just too heavy. If my assistant is overweight, my viewers will assume that my recipes are fattening. That could reduce sales of my videos and cookbooks."

Hannah was stunned speechless for a moment. She opened her mouth, prepared to give Connie Mac a well-deserved piece of her mind, when Norman grabbed her arm.

"Come on, Hannah," he whispered. "Anything you say will only make it worse for Janie."

Hannah didn't like it, but she realized that Norman was right and she let him open the door and pull her through. "Goodnight, Janie," she called out as Norman closed the door behind them.

"It's a good thing we left," Norman muttered, taking a deep breath of the freezing air. "I was ready to kill that woman!"

"You're second in line behind me," Hannah shot back.

"Because she made Janie rearrange your kitchen?"

"That's only half of it. She implied that Janie was fat! You don't think she is, do you?"

Norman shook his head. "Janie's big, but she's not fat. And she'd look great on camera. That excuse Connie Mac gave about how Janie could hurt her sales is a crock. Julia Child didn't look thin on any of her cooking shows, and her cookbooks were bestsellers."

"That's right," Hannah said, wishing she'd thought of that in time to tell Connie Mac. Then she remembered what Norman had said as they walked out the door, and she turned to him with a question. "You said you wanted to kill Connie Mac. What did she do to you?"

"What are you doing for the next eight hours? If I tell you everything, it'll take all night."

Hannah laughed. "Maybe you'd better give me the abbreviated version."

"Connie Mac was an hour late for her appointment with me. Janie apologized, but Connie Mac didn't say a word. And then Connie Mac ordered me to take her portrait in the dining room and I was all set up in the parlor."

"So you had to move all your equipment?"

"Oh, yes. Six times. She kept changing her mind. And then, when we were finally finished and I'd already packed up all my camera gear, she decided she needed one more series of shots sitting behind the first mayor's desk."

Hannah frowned. Ezekiel's desk was a valuable antique and Delores had secured the area around it with museum- style velvet ropes. "Mother didn't let her do it, did she?"

"Of course she did. Connie Mac sweet-talked her right into it."

"Really!" Hannah was surprised. She'd thought that Delores would be the one person in town that Connie Mac couldn't sway. "So how long did this photo session take?"

"An hour and a half, and it seemed like months. By the time we finished, I was ready to bash her head in with one of Mrs. Jordan's rolling pins."

"It's a good thing you didn't. It might have hurt the rolling pin." Hannah smiled up at him and reached out to take his arm. Norman covered her gloved hand with his and they crunched through the snow together on the way to their cars.

"I haven't seen you for a while," Norman said, escorting her to the driver's side of her truck. "I've missed you, Hannah."

"I've missed you, too."

"How about some dinner? We could drive out to the inn. At least we know she won't be there."

"True, but I'd probably fall asleep with my head in the soup," Hannah said, stifling a yawn. Today had been a full day, and the strain of being pleasant to Connie Mac and baking ten times as many cookies as usual had taken its toll.

"Do you have another date?"

"No way. I'd really like to have dinner with you, Norman, but I'm just too tired. Can I take a rain check?"

"Sure, but you still have to eat. Do you want to stop by the Corner Tavern? That would be quicker."

"Not tonight. I just want to go home and crawl into bed with a glass of wine and a toasted sardine sandwich."

Norman made a face, "That doesn't sound very nutritious."

"It's not as bad as you think, Sardines are protein, and I always use the ones in ketchup sauce, That takes care of the vegetable. And the buttered toast provides the fat and the carbohydrates. It's a very well-balanced sandwich, if you think about it."

"I'd rather not." Norman unplugged her electrical cord, wound it around Hannah's bumper, and opened the door of her truck for her. As she slid into the driver's seat, he said, "Hannah?"

"Yes, Norman."

"Let's try to get together more often, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," Hannah said, reaching for her seat belt and buckling it.

"I was thinking about it last night and I realized that I was cutting off my nose to spite my face."

"What do you mean?" Hannah asked.

"Whenever our mothers start trying to push us together, I rebel like a teenager."

"So do I," Hannah admitted. "Mother suggested that I call you today, and I didn't. It wasn't that I didn't want to call you, it was just that I didn't want to give in to her."

"That's exactly what I mean." Norman looked very serious. "I think we should stop letting our mothers influence our behavior. We'll do what we really want to do, even if they suggest it first."

Hannah nodded. "That's a great idea, but there's one drawback."

"What's that?"

"It requires that we act like adults."

Norman chuckled. "Do you think that we can handle it?"

"Of course. The next time Mother suggests I call you, I'll call you."

"Good for you," Norman said, looking pleased.

"And then, when Mother starts preening because I followed her advice, I'll just stick my tongue out at her."

* * *

"Why don't you order something different, Andrea?" Hannah suggested, closing her menu and handing it back to the waitress. "You always have baked chicken."

"I like baked chicken."

"Whatever," Hannah sighed. "At least try Sally's cream of radish soup. It's wonderful."

Andrea shook her head. "I'm sticking with the Caesar salad. It's perfect with baked chicken."

Hannah shrugged and gave up the fight. She'd come out to the inn for dinner after all, but it hadn't been her choice. The phone had been ringing as she unlocked the door to her condo, and it had been Andrea in an absolute panic, Could Hannah please have dinner with her? Janie had canceled, Bill had paged her to say he'd be late, and she'd been sitting at a table in the dining room all alone. After a few minutes of pleading, Hannah's sisterly compassion had won out.

"They have excellent wine by the glass, Hannah." Andrea interrupted her thoughts, "Would you like me to pick out a nice chardonnay for you?"

"No, thanks. I'm so tired, it would knock me right under I the table."

Andrea had the grace to look slightly guilty. "I probably shouldn't have called you, but I just couldn't face sitting here all alone. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Hannah said. As the most popular girl at Jordan High, Andrea had always been surrounded by admirers, She had grown accustomed to being at the center of attention, and the prospect of eating dinner in a restaurant alone was anathema to her.

"Oh, good! There's Bill!" A happy smile spread over Andrea's face and she stood up to wave. "I thought they'd be much later than this."

"They?" Hannah glanced over at the entrance and felt a delicious tingle when she spotted Bill's partner and boss, Mike Kingston. He towered over Bill, who was almost six feet tall, and most of the women in Lake Eden said that Mike was the best-looking man in town. With his dark blond hair and rugged physique, he reminded Hannah of the capable, fearless early settlers who had carved out a niche for them- selves in the Midwest.

"Don't they look great in their uniforms?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, they do," Hannah responded, hoping she didn't sound too breathless. Mike always had this effect on her. Then she realized that Andrea hadn't been surprised to see Mike, and her eyes narrowed. Andrea and Bill were always trying to set her up with Mike. "Did you know that Mike was coming?"

"Bill said he was going to ask him, but I wasn't really sure."

"Did you plan this dinner to throw the two of us together?"

"Of course not!" Andrea looked perfectly indignant. "I invited you this morning, remember? And Janie was supposed to be here, too. I just thought we could all have a nice time together."

Hannah still wasn't sure that Andrea hadn't played matchmaker. After all, she'd learned from an expert, their mother.

"Smile, Hannah," Andrea urged. "You want Mike to think you're happy to see him, don't you?"

Hannah smiled. That part was easy. Seeing Mike always made her smile.

Two hours later, Hannah unlocked the door to her condo for the second time that night and headed straight for the phone in the kitchen to exercise a little damage control. Once Mike and Bill had joined them, one thing had led to another with surprising rapidity. Sally had moved them to a secluded table by the big rock fireplace, the ambience had been romantic and intimate, and Mike had flirted with her outrageously. Hannah had stayed much longer than she'd planned, and that had turned out to be a big mistake.

Hannah wasn't sure when Delores and Carrie had come in, but they had been eating their main course when Mike had walked Hannah through the room on her way out. It was obvious that Norman had told them she'd refused a dinner date with him, because neither mother had spoken to her as she passed their table with Mike. If scathing looks could kill, Hannah knew she'd be toes-up on the floor of Sally's dining room right now, deader than the sardines she'd been planning to eat for dinner.

"Norman?" Hannah was pleased when he answered the phone on the first ring. "I wanted to catch you before your mother got home. I need to explain."

"Explain what?"

"I had to go out to the inn, after all. Andrea had a dinner date with Bill, but he called to say he'd be late and she talked me into driving out to keep her company. Then Bill showed up with Mike, and Andrea asked him to join us."

"Okay." Norman sounded perplexed. "Why did you call to tell me that?"

"Because our mothers showed up and saw us together. I knew they'd tell you, and I wanted to get to you first."

"It's okay, Hannah. I know you go out with Mike sometimes."

"I know you know, but I didn't want you to think that I refused to go to dinner with you and then turned around and went out with Mike. I figured that if I didn't explain it, you might be hurt . . . or maybe even jealous."

"I wouldn't be jealous. We don't have an exclusive relationship and you can go out with anyone you want to. Besides, I like Mike. He's a nice guy." Norman paused. "Hannah?"

"Yes, Norman."

"How about coffee tomorrow morning? I have to be at the Ezekiel Jordan House early, and I could stop by The Cookie Jar."

"That's fine. I'll treat you to a blueberry muffin."

"Great. I'll see you then. And thanks for calling, Hannah. It was very considerate of you."

Hannah was frowning as she hung up the phone. Norman hadn't been jealous-not even a little. Hannah guessed she should be glad that he wasn't, but it was real blow to her ego.

-6-

Hannah's headlights cut two converging tunnels through the darkness to illuminate the stop sign at the corner of Main Street and First Avenue. She was early, an hour ahead of her normal schedule, but she felt good about giving Lisa the morning off.

Nothing was moving as Hannah drove through the silent business district of Lake Eden. Norman's dental clinic was locked up tight, Hal & Rose's Caf' was dark, and there was only a dim security light shining through the front window t of the Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy. The town was still slumbering, but Hannah was alert and ready to go to work. This was the opening day of the Winter Carnival, and the cookies they'd baked yesterday wouldn't last through the day. She had to bake more and deliver them to the warm-up tents.

Instead of driving down the front of her block, Hannah turned into the alley and passed the back of Claire Rodgers's dress shop, her neighbor to the north. Claire had mentioned that she planned to open Beau Monde Fashions early this morning, but early for Claire was a whole lot later than early for Hannah. No one would want to buy designer dresses or Winter Carnival wear at five-thirty in the morning.

Hannah frowned as she turned into The Cookie Jar parking lot, and her headlights flashed across the rear of the building. The back door of her shop was slightly ajar.

The fact that her door was unlocked didn't set off warning bells in Hannah's mind. Everyone in Lake Eden knew that she emptied the cash register before she went home, and there wasn't much else to steal. If some homeless person had jimmied the back door to secure a warm place to sleep, Hannah couldn't really blame him. It had been a bitterly cold night. She'd just give the unfortunate soul a hot cup of coffee and a bag of cookies and send him on his way.

Hannah parked in her usual spot, plugged her extension cord into the strip of outlets on the white stucco wall, and walked closer to examine her door from the outside. The lock was intact and the door showed no sign of pry marks. Janie had simply forgotten to lock it when she left with Connie Mac. Thanking her lucky stars that the gusty winds hadn't tom her door off its hinges and caused a massive jump in her heating bill, Hannah pushed it open and flicked on the lights. At first glance, her startled mind refused to believe what was right in front of her eyes. Then her mouth opened in a soundless gasp of shock. A bag of cake flour was on the floor, its contents scattered over the tiles like super-fine snow. Stainless steel mixing bowls filled with dried cake batter covered every inch of the work island, and sticky spoons and spatulas stood up inside them like miniature flagpoles. Several cartons of eggshells and dirty utensils were piled on the counter near the sink, and next to them was Hannah's industrial mixer with cake batter glued to its beaters.

Hannah fumed as she surveyed her usually immaculate kitchen. Janie never would have left this incredible mess. She must have gone back to the inn early, and Connie Mac just hadn't bothered to clean up before she left. Uttering a string of expletives that would have made her mother run for the soap, Hannah stepped inside. It would take her at least an hour to clean her kitchen, and she didn't have any time to waste. She had just started to wipe off the counters when she realized that there was a sickeningly sweet, charcoal-laden smell in the air. Something was burning!

Hannah raced to her oven, opened the door, and jumped back as a cloud of black smoke rolled out. Through the smoke, she could see several charred, smoldering lumps that had once been layers for the official Winter Carnival cake.

With lightning speed Hannah turned off the gas and hurried to her second oven. Smoke was beginning to leak out the door, and she didn't have to look to know that there were similar lumps inside. She turned it off, ran to the windows to yank them open, and flicked the exhaust fan on high. Coughing slightly from the smoke and the exertion, she ran out the back door and propped it wide open behind her.

Hannah was livid as she paced back and forth in the parking lot, kicking up snow with the toes of her boots and waiting for the smoke to clear. Connie Mac had waltzed out of The Cookie Jar with cakes in the ovens, and if Hannah hadn't come to work early, The Cookie Jar might have burned to the ground!

After ten minutes of pacing and fuming, Hannah approached the doorway and took a tentative sniff. There was still a trace of smoke in the air, but it no longer made her eyes water. She stomped into her kitchen with a scowl on her face and headed straight for the sink. There was no time to waste. She had to clean up the mess and begin mixing her cookie dough for the day.

Hannah swept the egg cartons and shells into the nearly overflowing trash can and turned on the hot water to fill the sink with soapy water. Once she'd set the dirty dishes to soak, she carried out the trash and lined the can with a new plastic bag. She was gathering up her cake-batter-encrusted mixing bowls from the work island, preparing to move them to the counter by the sink, when she noticed something that made her stop cold.

Connie Mac's leather handbag was sitting on top of a stool. She must have forgotten it, unless. . . Hannah swiveled around with a frown on her face. Connie Mac's sable coat was still hanging on a hook by the back door. It had dropped down below zero last might. Connie Mac must have been in a real rush to leave if she hadn't taken the time to grab her coat.

Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place, and Hannah glanced around her uneasily. Janie had left early. That much was obvious. Her car was gone, and so were her coat and something had frightened her away.

A glimmer of light caught Hannah's eye. The pantry door was open a few inches and someone had turned on the light. Hannah grabbed the first weapon she could find, the heavy pot she used to make boiled frostings. If the person who'd frightened Connie Mac away was hiding in her pantry, she'd get in a few good licks before she turned him over to the sheriff!

Once she had moved silently into position, Hannah inched the door open with her foot. She glanced inside, and what see saw caused the pot to slip from her nerveless fingers. Her earlier assumption was wrong. Connie mace hadn't left last night.

The Cooking Sweetheart was facedown on the pantry floor, her arms and legs sprawled out like a kid who'd hit the surface of Eden Lake in an ungainly belly dive. She had been struck down by a massive blow to the head in the act of sampling one of Hannah's Blue Blueberry Muffins.

Shock rendered Hannah immobile for a moment, but then she knelt down to feel for a pulse. The biggest celebrity ever to set foot in Lake Eden would never star in another episode of her television show or pose for pictures in her magazine. Connie Mac was dead.

-7-

Hannah was pacing the parking lot, trying to banish the gruesome sight from her mind, when she spotted the headlights of an approaching car. As it passed under the streetlight in the middle of the alley, she realized that it was Norman's car and that they had an early-morning coffee date.

Norman stepped on the gas when he spotted the sheriff's department cruiser. One glimpse of his concerned face as he jumped out of his car was all it took for Hannah to forgive him for not being jealous of her dinner with Mike.

"Are you all right, Hannah?" Norman asked, pulling her into his arms before she even had time to answer.

Hannah nodded, almost hating to admit it because it was so good to be hugged. Norman was solid and dependable, and it felt a lot better than she'd remembered to be in his arms. Actually, it was quite habit-forming. Once there, she didn't want to leave.

"What happened?" Norman asked her.

"Connie Mac's dead and I found her in my pantry this morning and someone bashed in her head when she was eating one of my muffins and I called the sheriff's department and that's why they're here." Hannah's words came out in a rush, with no pause for punctuation. She reminded herself to slow down so that Norman could understand her, and went on. 'Someone killed Connie Mac last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake."

"That's horrible. Do they know what time it happened?"

Hannah shook her head. "Not yet. Doc Knight's examining her now."

"Well, it must have been after nine."

"How do you know that?"

"I grabbed a quick sandwich and then I came back to test my fill lights. I saw Connie Mac and Janie through your window when I left to go home."

"You'd better tell Mike and Bill."

'I will. I'm sorry you were the one to find her, Hannah. It must have been awful.'

'It was.' Hannah nodded. Then she took a deep breath and managed a shaky laugh. 'After all the others, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.'

'I don't think you ever get used to something like that.'

'Maybe not, but if I keep on finding dead bodies, I'd better put the sheriff's number on speed-dial.'

Norman chuckled. 'Your sense of humor is coming back. You're gong to be fine, Hannah.'

'Of course I am.'

The back door of The Cookie Jar opened and Mike stepped out. He frowned when he spotted Norman, but then he put on a polite smile as he strode forward across the snow. 'Hi, Norman. It's a good thing you're here. Hannah shouldn't be alone at a time like this. I would have stayed with her myself, but I've got a job to do inside.'

'Go ahead,' Norman responded. 'I'll stay with Hannah.'

That comment earned another frown from Mike, and Hannah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Norman and Mike were facing off like two banty roosters, and she was no spring chicken.

'I've got some bad news for you, Hannah.' Mike didn't look happy as he turned to her. 'Your shop is a crime scene. We'll be securing it in a couple of minutes.'

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Hannah groaned. She'd seen enough cop shows and movies to know that only authorized personnel were allowed past the barrier of yellow crime scene tape. 'You mean I can't go back inside?'

'I'm afraid not. I'll send Bill out with your purse. I really shouldn't do it, but since it wasn't here when the crime was committed, I'm willing to bend the rules a little.'

'So what am I supposed to do?' Hannah asked him.

'Go home, get some rest, and try to forget about this. The forensics guys are on their way and we'll take care of everything.'

Hannah's thoughts were so jumbled, it was difficult to think clearly. If she couldn't get into her kitchen, how could she bake the cookies she needed for the Winter Carnival? 'I know I have to wait until the forensic team is through, but I can get back I soon, can't I? I've got to bake cookies for this afternoon.'

'Sorry, Hannah.' Mike looked glum as he shook his head. 'I can't let anyone disturb the scene until the lab results are in.'

'How long does that take?'

'It depends. Our lab's not set up for DNA testing and we have to send it out. And depending on the results, our guys may have to come back in to collect more samples. I know it's an inconvenience, but I can't let you contaminate possible evidence.'

'Just a minute,' Norman said, stepping up to face Mike squarely. 'You didn't answer Hannah's question. How long could she be locked out?'

'It's not up to me, Norman. If I had my way, I'd let Hannah back in just as soon as we collect all the samples. Unfortunately, it's not up to me.'

'How long could she be locked out?' Norman repeated his question. 'At least give Hannah a ballpark figure. She's got to make plans.'

Mike sighed and turned to Hannah. 'Worst-case scenario, it could be as long as it takes us to catch the killer.'

'What happens if you don't catch the killer?' Hannah frowned at the man who had recently been the subject of her romantic fantasies.

'We will. I just spoke to Sheriff Grant and he's putting every available man on this. You have to be patient. It could take a while.'

Hannah's frown turned into a glare. 'But I don't have a while! If my shop is locked up for long, I'll go bankrupt.'

'Let's not borrow trouble.' Mike reached out to take her arm, but Hannah snatched it back out of his reach. 'I'm not the enemy here, Hannah. It's police procedure and there's nothing anyone can do about it.'

Hannah glared at him. 'Is it fair that I should lose my business because a killer committed murder in my pantry?'

'Of course it's not fait, but I have to follow procedure here.'

Hannah knew that Mike was a by-the-book cop. When it came to procedure, nothing would budge him. 'Could you bring out my muffins? They're on a shelf in the pantry in plastic containers, and I need to deliver them this morning.'

'Sorry. There could be prints on some of the containers.'

Hannah gave a resigned sigh. Her muffins would be history by the time the crime scene guys got around to lifting the prints. 'How about the cookie dough I mixed up last night?'

'That depends. Where is it?'

'In the cooler, and that's completely separate from the pantry. Since Connie Mac brought her own ingredients, there was no reason for her to go in there.'

'If we don't find any suspicious prints on the cooler door, I'll release your cookie dough. In the meantime, try to find an oven you can use temporarily.'

Once Mike had left to go back inside, Norman pulled Hannah close again. 'It's not the end of the world. All we have to do is have to do is find you another oven to use. Let's go to the clinic and I'll help you make some calls.'

'It won't be that easy.' Hannah was about to explain the difference between a home oven and a commercial oven when she saw another car pull into the alley. 'Oh-oh! There's Mother. She's convinced I'm on a perpetual safari for dead bodies just so I can embarrass her.'

Delores fishtailed to a stop when she noticed the sheriff's cruiser. She rolled down her window and called out to Hannah. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, but Connie Mac's dead.'

With no regard for any other traffic that might come along, Delores left her car in the center of the alley and got out. When she arrived at Hannah's side, she was breathless. 'Did you say dead?'

'That's right,' Norman said, moving close to Hannah. 'Someone killed her last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake.'

'In my shop,' Hannah added. 'Now it's a crime scene and Bill and Mike are going to close it down.'

'That's terrible!' Delores gasped.

'Yes, Hannah said, not sure if her mother was referring to Connie Mac's demise, or the fact that The Cookie Jar would be closed.

'A murder scene right next door,' Delores moaned. 'Now no one will come to tour the Ezekiel Jordan House.'

Hannah glanced at Norman, who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Delores wasn't concerned that her daughter's business would be closed, or the fact that Connie Mac was dead. Her only worry was that people wouldn't come to see her historic re-creation. 'Relax, Mother. Most people are fascinated by murder scenes. Since they can't get into The Cookie Jar, they'll take your tour and peek through the windows.'

'Do you really think so?'

'Absolutely.'

'Maybe you're right. I went to a lot of work, you know, and everything is absolutely authentic for the . . . ' Delores stopped speaking and her eyes narrowed. 'Who found her?'

Hannah winced. It would come out sooner or later, and it might as well be now. 'I did.'

'Hannah! You've simply got to stop finding bodies. I swear you attract them like a magnet. If you're not careful, everyone's going to get the wrong impression of you.'

'That's unfair,' Norman objected. 'Hannah just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'That's exactly what I thought . . . the first few times. But five? That's enough to make people wonder. If she's not careful, no decent person will want to associate with her.'

Norman gave Hannah's hand a squeeze and then he stepped up to Delores. 'I'm not afraid to associate with Hannah, and I certainly don't have the wrong impression of her.'

'Well . . . I'm glad to hear it.' Delores backed off slightly. 'You're a good man, Norman.'

'I try to be.'

Delores turned back to Hannah. 'Where did you find her?'

'In my pantry.'

'Don't' tell anyone. If people hear that she died in your pantry, they won't want to eat your cookies you'd better throw everything out and start fresh.'

Hannah didn't follow that logic at all, but she nodded. 'Yes, Mother. I'll do that just as soon as they let me back in.'

'Good. If you're sure you're all right, Hannah, I have to run. You have no idea how many last-minute things I have to do before we open to the public.'

'I'm fine, Mother. Go ahead.'

'I'd stay to lend moral support, but ' '

Norman held up his hand to interrupt her. 'Don't worry, Delores. I promise I'll take care of Hannah.'

'All right, then.'

Hannah watched as Delores turned and walked back to her car. Then she looked over at Norman. 'You'll take care of me?'

'Just a figure of speech. I figured she'd like that sort of thing.' Norman glanced up as another car turned into the alley. 'Is that Andrea?'

'Yes, and Tracey's with her. Bill must have called her to tell her what happened.'

Andrea pulled up and got out of her Volvo. The passenger door remained closed, and Hannah assumed that she'd told Tracey to stay in the car until she assessed the situation.

'Hannah! You poor thing!' Andrea rushed up to her. 'Bill told me all about it. Have they taken her away yet?'

'Not yet. Doc Knight's still in there.'

Andrea waved and the passenger door opened. A moment later, a small blond-haired bundle in a bright pink parka hurtled across the snow toward Hannah.

'Hi, Aunt Hannah.' Tracey gave her a hug. 'Mommy said you found another one, and now Grandma's going to be so-o-o mad at you.'

Hannah glanced down at Tracey's earnest face, and she had all she could do not to laugh. 'Oh, well. That's nothing new.'

'Grandma never gets mad at me. Why does she get mad at you, Aunt Hannah?'

'Because I'm all grown up and I'm supposed to be perfect. You're four years old and you're still allowed some mistakes.'

Tracey thought about that for a moment and then she nodded solemnly. 'We came to tell you that you can use our oven for your cookies. It's a really nice oven and Mommy's only used it once.'

'From the mouths of babes,' Hannah commented, glancing at Andrea who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Then she turned back to Tracey. 'That's really nice of you, honey, but I can't use your oven. I need to fin done that's a lot bigger.'

Tracey looked very disappointed. 'But I was going to help you and everything. I need to learn how. I heard Daddy ask Mommy why she never bakes cookies and she said it'll be a cold day in . . . '

'That's enough, Tracey,' Andrea warned, but Hannah could tell that she was more amused than angry. 'Give Aunt Hannah a kiss and then go back to the car. We need to talk about some grownup things.'

'I never get to listen when you talk about the good stuff,' Tracey said with a sigh. 'Grownups get to have all the fun.'

Norman turned to Tracey. 'I know something you can do for fun if your Mom says it's okay, I'll take you next door to see the house your grandma made.'

'Can I, Mommy?' Tracey asked, starting to smile again.

Andrea nodded. 'That's fine if Norman doesn't mind taking you.'

'Oh, good.' Tracey slipped her hand in Norman's. 'Let's go, Uncle Norman.'

'Uncle Norman?' Hannah asked when Tracey and Norman were out of earshot.

'Tracey wanted to know what she should call him, and I couldn't think of anything else.' Andrea looked a bit embarrassed. ' 'Doctor Rhodes' was just too formal, you know? Tell me what happened, Hannah. You know how Bill is when he calls me from the field. He never tells me any details.'

Hannah had just begun to tell the story again when the back door opened and Mike came out. He strode across the snow, greeted Andrea, and then he turned to Hannah. 'More bad news, I'm afraid.'

'What now?' Hannah snapped. She was in no mood to be charitable to the man who'd just closed down her business.

'You said that Janie Burkholtz was here with Connie Mac last night?'

'That's right. They were baking when Norman and I left.'

'Well, she's disappeared. I just called the inn, and no one's seen her since she left with Connie Mac yesterday afternoon. I sent one of the maids up to check her room, and all her luggage is gone.'

'Oh, no!' Andrea's face turned pale and she reached out to grab Hannah's arm. 'Connie Mac's killer must have kidnapped Janie!'

'Calm down, Andrea. A killer wouldn't stop at the inn on his way out of town to let Janie collect her belongings.'

Andrea thought about it for a second, and then she looked a bit sheepish. 'You're right. I didn't think about that. But . . . what happened to Janie?'

'We'll find her,' Mike promised. 'Our CIO pulled her picture from the DMV file and we put out an APB.'

Hannah swallowed hard. She'd been around Mike long enough to know that when he started to speak in initials, it was serious business. Connie Mac was dead, she'd been an impossibly nasty boss, and now Janie was missing. Hannah didn't think for a moment that Janie had killed Connie Mac and fled town, but she couldn't blame Mike for being suspicious. 'Is Janie a suspect?'

'I'm afraid so.'

Andrea's face was still pale, but her eyes were blazing. 'Janie didn't kill Connie Mac. That's impossible.'

'You could be right,' Mike backed off when he saw how upset Andrea was. 'Miss Burkholtz could have a perfectly innocent reason for leaving town, but we won't know what it is until we ask her.'

Andrea didn't look entirely pacified, and Hannah decided to change the subject. 'Come on, Andrea. I have to go out to the inn. You and Tracey can come along.'

'Hold it.' Mike reached out to grab her arm. 'Why are you going out there?'

'I have to find another place to bake and Sally's got a whole bank of commercial ovens in her kitchen.'

'You're not going out there for any other reason?'

'I have to bake somewhere,' Hannah said, putting on the most innocent expression she could muster 'You're not going to tell me I can't use Sally's ovens, are you?'

'No. As much as I'd like to, I can't legally keep you away from the inn. Just stay away from Mrs. MacIntyre's employees and don't talk to anyone connected with the case. That's a direct order, Hannah. If you interfere with our ongoing investigation, I'll charge you with obstruction.'

Several retorts occurred to Hannah, but she was wise enough to voice none of them. She simply turned to her sister and said, 'Come on, Andrea. We've taken up enough of Mike's time.'

Five minutes later, they were zipping through town in Hannah's cookie truck, heading fro the house that Lisa shared with her father. It was a slight detour, but Hannah wanted to tell her partner what had happened before she heard it from someone else.

'Hannah?' Andrea asked, glancing in the back to make sure that Tracey was engrossed in one of the books she'd brought along for the ride.

'Hmm?'

'Are Sally's ovens the only reason we're going out to the inn?'

'That's what I said.'

Andrea looked disappointed. 'You mean you're just going to let Mike tell you what to do?'

'He's an officer of the law, Andrea. He has the right to tell me what to do.'

'But you're not going to listen, are you?'

'Let's see. . . one of our oldest friends has been accused of murder, I'll have to scrub for hours to get the bloodstains out of my pantry floor, Mother's still made at me for finding another body, and Mike just shut down my business. What do you think?'

Andrea gave a big smile of approval. 'That's just what I thought. I'll help.'

-8-

Lisa opened the door of her father's house, and she smiled as she saw Hannah, Andrea, and Tracey standing on the front step. 'What a nice surprise! Come on in out of the cold. I've got coffee and cinnamon-apple coffee cake in the kitchen.'

As they followed Lisa to the cheery yellow kitchen in the rear of the house, Hannah silently blessed her for not asking what they were doing at her front door at seven in the morning.

Lisa's father, Jack Herman, was seated at the table, finishing a slice of Lisa's coffee cake. When he spotted them, he held out his hand and gave a big welcoming smile. 'Hello there, friends. Did you come for a piece of Lisa's cake?'

'Not exactly, but it looks delicious.' Hannah walked over to Lisa's father and shook his hand. Jack Herman had Alzheimer's, and even though he'd known Hannah all his life, there were times when he didn't remember her. 'I'm Hannah Swensen, Lisa's partner at The Cookie Jar.'

'Of course you are, ' Jack said, giving her hand a squeeze. 'I recognized you right off today. And that's your sister?'

Andrea reached out to take his hand. 'Andrea. And this is my daughter . . . '

'Tracey.' Tracey interrupted her mother and promptly took the chair next to Jack. 'I'm four. How old are you?'

'I'm older than that, but I used to have a daughter just your age. Did you know that?'

'Lisa?' Tracey glanced over at Lisa and giggled.

'That's right. Would you like to have a piece of her cake?'

'Yes, please.' Tracey nodded and Lisa served her a piece. Once Tracey had tasted it, she looked up at Lisa and smiled. 'This is the best cinnamon apple coffee cake I ever had. When Daddy says it's okay for The Cookie Jar to open up again, you should bake this for breakfast.'

Lisa looked confused and she turned to Hannah. 'The Cookie Jar is closed?'

'Mrs. Mac got killer there,' Tracey explained, before Hannah could even think about answering, 'and Daddy and Uncle Mike put yellow tape over the doors.'

Andrea shot Hannah and Lisa a warning glance and then she turned to her daughter. 'Tracey, honey, I really think it would be better if ' '

'It's okay, Mommy,' Tracey interrupted, hopping down from her chair and retrieving her plate. 'I'll just go into the other room to finish my cake.' She started off toward the door to the living room, but then she turned back to Lisa's father to explain. 'Mommy never lets me listen when they talk about the really good stuff.'

Jack Herman's eyes twinkled, but he nodded seriously 'I know just what you mean. Hold on a second and I'll go with you.'

'They don't want you to listen either?' Tracey looked surprised.

'I don't think so.' Jack picked up Tracey's glass of milk and pushed back his chair. 'I'll set up a tray for you in the living room. And when you're finished with Lisa's cake, I'll show you my animal collection.'

'That would be nice,' Tracey said, beginning to smile. 'Are your animals real?'

'They look real, but they're carved from pieces of wood. And they're much smaller than real animals.'

Tracey nodded, stepping aside so that Lisa's father could lead the way 'Do you have a hippopotamus? They're my favorites.'

'I don't remember. Let's go look and see.'

Hannah, Andrea, and Lisa kept their lips zipped until Jack had left the room with Tracey. Then Lisa leaned forward across the table. 'Is it true?'

'I'm afraid so.' Hannah sighed deeply. 'Connie Mac was murdered last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake. I found her in our pantry when I came in this morning.'

Lisa shivered. 'Good heavens! I didn't like her much, but . . . murdered?'

'Somebody must have liked her even less than you did.'

'I guess! What about Janie? Is she all right?'

'We think so. The only problem is, Janie's disappeared.'

It took a moment for this news to sink in. When it did, Lisa looked worried. 'You don't think she saw the murder and the killer . . . ?'

'No,' Andrea said quickly. 'Janie packed up all her things and left the inn last night. Bill and Mike are looking for her to find out if she saw anything. As of right now, Janie's a suspect.'

Lisa was frowning as she turned to Hannah. 'Are you going to prove that she didn't do it?'

'Yes.'

'That's good. Did they say how long we'd be closed down?'

'Mike wouldn't give me a definite answer, but he admitted that it could be as long as it takes them to catch Connie Mac's killer.'

'I don't like the sound of that.' Lisa looked very worried. 'I guess we'd better find another place to bake.'

'We're working on that. Andrea and I are going to run out to the inn to ask Sally if we can use a couple of her commercial ovens.'

'That's a good idea,' Lisa said, and then she turned to Andrea. 'I'll keep Tracey with me this morning. Dad loves kids, and we'll take her out to some of the Winter Carnival venues with us That'll give you two a chance to set up your headquarters out at the inn.'

'Headquarters?' Andrea looked puzzled.

'For sleuthing. If Sally lets us use her ovens, I'll handle all the baking. The sooner you can catch Connie Mac's killer, the faster we can get back into The Cookie Jar.'

'Something sure smells good!' Andrea exclaimed as they stepped into the rustic lobby of the Lake Eden Inn.

'And how!' Hannah began to smile. 'It must be Sally's breakfast buffet.'

Andrea sat down on the long wooden bench that was attached to the boot rack and pulled off her boots. She placed them on the rack and unzipped her tote bag, preparing to switch to her shoes. 'Hurry up and I'll treat you to breakfast. I didn't get to eat this morning and I'm starving.'

As Hannah joined her sister on the bench, she recalled that Andrea had eaten two large pieces of coffee cake at Lisa's. for someone who never did more than nibble at a slice of toast for breakfast, she was uncharacteristically hungry. Hannah had been off at college when her sister had been pregnant with Tracey, but Bill had mentioned pounds in the first month. Was the stork about to pay another visit to the Todd household?

'What?' Andrea asked, intercepting Hannah's searching look.

'I was just wondering why you're so hungry, that's all,' Hannah explained, shedding her boots and pulling on the pair of suede slip-ons she carried in her purse.

'I'm not, you know.'

'Not what?'

'Pregnant. I saw that look in your eye. You were wondering if you were going to be an aunt again, weren't you?'

Hannah laughed. She was caught dead to rights Andrea had always been able to read her expressions 'It did cross my mind.'

'Well, forget it. It's just the cold weather. My body's telling me to put on an extra layer of fat for insulation.'

'An extra layer?' Hannah glance at her thin and fashionable sister. 'You don't even have layer number one. There's not an ounce of fat on you.'

'That's because I burn it all off. I have a very active metabolism. Remember how you used to make us oatmeal with brown sugar and chocolate chips when I was in high school?'

'Of course I do.'

'You really sold me on breakfast, Hannah. It's my favorite meal.'

'Then why don't you ever make it?'

'The last time I tried to cook oatmeal, it burned on the bottom and I had to throw away the pan. Toast and cold cereal is a lot safer. I can't mess that up.'

Hannah tried to think of something kind to say, but absolutely nothing occurred to her. Andrea was a terrible cook.

'Let's find Sally and offer to help her. That'll give us a chance to ask her some questions.'

'Good idea.' Hannah stood up and followed Andrea past the old-fashioned reservation desk. She glanced at the wall of pigeonholes behind it and noted that there were no keys in the little cubicles. That wasn't a surprise. When she'd talked to Sally a few days ago, she'd mentioned that The Lake Eden Inn was fully booked with Winter Carnival guest, reporters, and the people in Connie Mac's entourage.

Andrea pushed open the door to the large dining room. It was deserted, and she turned to Hannah in surprise. 'Where are all the people?'

'They're still in their rooms,' Hannah told her. 'It's Saturday and Sally doesn't open the buffet until nine.'

'But it's . . . ' Andrea stopped speaking and glanced at her watch. 'It's only eight. I thought it was much later than that.'

Hannah reached out to pat her sister's shoulder. Andrea liked to sleep in on Saturday mornings and she never lifted her head from her pillow until nine. The fact that she'd arrived at The Cookie Jar at six-thirty was tangible proof of her sisterly devotion.

The two sisters walked past the neatly set tables and headed straight for the inn's large industrial kitchen. As they pushed through the swinging door, Hannah started to smile. Sally's kitchen was her favorite place at the inn, combining modern stainless-steel restaurant equipment with homey touches that were Sally's alone.

The floor was tile, a must for a restaurant because the health code required that it be kept spotless. But instead of the solid-color ones that most restaurateurs used. Sally had installed designer tile that simulated an old-fashioned multi-colored braided rug. The areas that weren't covered by the oval-shaped rug design were formulated to look like one you might find in an unusually large farmhouse kitchen.

The long wall that Sally's kitchen shared with the dining room had a window that ran from the stainless-steel counter all the way up to the ceiling. This meant that Sally's kitchen staff was always on display, and they were dressed to take full advantage of that. The women wore frilly caps that satisfied the health department's requirement for head covering and were patterned to match their bib aprons. The men were also on display in colored chef's coats and matching toques. The color scheme changed every day, and today's theme was green.

'There's Sally,' Hannah said, directing her sister's attention to the far wall, where Sally was removing a tray of freshly baked popovers from the oven.

Andrea nodded and her face lit up in a smile. 'Popovers! Sally makes the best popovers in the world!'

'I heard that.' Sally looked pleased as she walked to a clear space at the long stainless-steel counter and tipped the popovers out in a napkin-lined basket. 'Pull up a stool and have one while they're hot.'

'Do you have time to join us?' Hannah asked.

'They can get along without me for a few minutes.' Sally passed the basket of popovers to Andrea and set out a tub of butter and a jar of apricot jam. 'What took you so long? I thought you two would be out here an hour ago.'

'You know?' Hannah was surprised. The sheriff's department never released the news of a murder until after the family had been notified.

'Of course I know. I was listening to KCOW radio in the kitchen and it was the lead story at five-thirty.'

'Five-thirty?' Hannah was astonished. She hadn't found Connie Mac's body until ten to six. 'But . . . that's impossible!'

'You know that, and I know that, but you'd be surprised how many people actually believe in them.'

'Time out.' Andrea held up her hands. 'It's obvious that you and Hannah are talking about two different things. You first, Sally.'

'Okay. At five-thirty this morning, Jake and Kelly announced that Ezekiel Jordan's ghost was haunting the halls of the Lake Eden Inn, looking for revenge.'

'Revenge for what?' Hannah asked the obvious question.

'For losing his prized rosewood desk in one of F. E. Laughlin's poker games. You see . . . '

'Wait a second, Sally,' Andrea interrupted. 'Is that the same desk Mother has in her re-creation?'

Sally nodded. 'Ezekiel and Dick's great-great-grandfather were contemporaries a hundred years ago. When Dick and I found the desk up in the attic, we assumed that F. E. bought it after Ezekiel died, but Francine uncovered the story about the poker game.'

'Your stepmother's still here?' Hannah asked. She'd met Francine at Sally and Dick's Christmas party. Francine had planned to stay for a couple of weeks to help out with the new baby, but little Danny was almost two months old.

'Everything worked out so well, Dick and I invited Francine to spend the winter with us when she's not baby-sitting with Danny, she's researching Dick's family for him on the Internet. That's how she found out about the poker game and Ezekiel's desk. Do you want the long story or the short story?'

'The long story.' Hannah jumped in before Andrea could open her mouth. 'Tell us about the poker game.'

'It happened almost exactly a hundred years ago. F. E. and his cronies came out here to do a little ice fishing and hunting. They always played poker on Saturday nights and they invited some of the notables in town to drive out and get in the game. Ezekiel Jordan came out to play, but he wasn't a very good poker player and he ran out of money early.'

'So he bet his desk?' Andrea looked shocked.

'That's right. Francine found the slip of paper he tossed in the pot with a bunch of F. E.'s other papers.'

'Go on,' Hannah urged her.

'F. E. won the pot, and the very next, Ezekiel loaded up his desk and hauled it out here. On his way home, a winter storm blew up and Ezekiel caught a bad chill. If you know your Lake Eden history, you can guess what happened next.'

Hannah thought about it for a moment and then she nodded. 'Ezekiel died of a lung ailment, didn't he?'

'That's right, three days after his trip out here. He blamed F. E. because he got sick, and he told everyone in town that the poker game was rigged.'

'Was it?' Andrea wanted to know.

'I don't know,' Sally shrugged, 'but it's certainly possible, especially if F. E. wanted that desk bad enough. He could be ruthless.'

'So what happened next?' Hannah did her best to get them back on track.

'Ezekiel swore on his deathbed that he'd come back for his desk and take revenge on everyone who played in that poker game.'

'Okay.' Hannah nodded. 'But that all happened a hundred years ago. Why is KCOW saying that Ezekiel's ghost is here now?'

Sally started to grin. 'Francine mentioned it to one of the reporters that's staying out here for the Winter Carnival. He must have called the radio station and told them about it.'

'But why did Francine tell the reporter about it?'

Sally poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Hannah and Andrea. 'Do you want the long story on that? Or the short story?'

'The short story,' Hannah said, even though she suspected it would be the same length as the long story.

'Yesterday morning Francine met the reporter in the hall. He said he woke up in the middle of the night, looked out his window, and saw somebody walking around outside. Francine told him he must have seen Ezekiel Jordan's ghost coming back for his desk. Francine was just kidding around with him, but he must have taken her seriously. And now everybody's going to think our inn has a ghost. In a way, I'm glad Dick's gone. He'd be worried about how it would affect our business.'

'Dick's away?' Hannah was surprised. Sally hadn't said anything about it when Hannah had called her last week.

'He had to leave for Arizona on Sunday. His mother was going to wait until summer to have her hip fixed, but the doctors wanted to do it now. I told Dick that I could handle everything, but I didn't count on the ghost story. I just hope all our guests don't check out.'

'They won't,' Andrea said and she sounded very confident. 'People who don't believe in ghosts will ignore it. And the believers will stay right here, hoping for a sighting. It's a win-win situation, Sally. Ghosts sell.'

'They do?'

Andrea nodded. 'Remember the old Walker place? It was on the market for a solid year with no offers. Then someone started a story about how it was haunted by Beulah Walker's ghost and it sold for over asking price.'

Hannah turned to give her sister a searching look. 'You didn't!'

'No. But I might have, if I'd thought of it.'

Sally got the coffee pot and poured them all a second cup. I'll be right back. I just need to sell them to start setting out the buffet.'

Hannah watched as Sally walked over to an attractive dark-haired woman in her late forties. They spoke for a moment and then the woman began to direct the rest of Sally's kitchen staff as they loaded dishes on rolling carts and prepared to wheel out the buffet.

As the feast on wheels started to move past them, Hannah saw Andrea reach out to snatch a glazed doughnut. 'You had three of Sally's popovers and you're still hungry?'

'I'm starving. I just can't resist Sally's doughnuts.'

'And I can't resist her bacon,' Hannah commented, snagging several pieces as a second cart rolled by.

For several minutes the sisters chewed in silence, attempting to finish their pilfered bounty before Sally returned. Andrea had just swallowed the last of her doughnut when Sally headed back in their direction.

'Okay, that's done,' Sally declared, sitting down on her stool and turning to Hannah. 'Now tell me what dragged you out all the way out here when you must have tons of baking to do.'

Hannah hesitated. Everyone told her that she was too outspoken, but she couldn't think of any tactful way to tell Sally what had happened to Connie Mac. 'I'm glad you're sitting down, Sally, because your most important guest just got murdered.'

-9-

Sally's coffee was cold by the time Hannah had finished telling her about finding Connie Mac. She took one sip, made a face, and set the cup back down again. 'I'm sorry she's dead, but there's one good thing. When the news breaks, it'll knock our ghost story off the front page.'

'Maybe not,' Andrea mused. 'It all depends on how much mileage that reporter wants to get out of it. He could always say that Ezekiel's ghost took his revenge by killing Connie Mac.'

Sally looked puzzled. 'But Connie Mac wasn't in that p9oker game. It happened a hundred years ago.'

'I know she wasn't there personally, but while we were touring Mother's re-creation, Connie Mac mentioned that her family was one of the first to settle in Minnesota. With that kind of background, she could have been a shirttail relation to someone who was in F. E.'s poker game.'

'Andrea's right,' Hannah said. 'If you go back far enough, a lot of Minnesotans are related.'

Sally gave a resigned sigh. 'I hate to admit it, but you girls have a point. I guess our ghost story is going to be around for a while, at least until the real killer is caught. You're working on the case, aren't you?'

'Yes, but that's confidential,' Andrea told her. 'After Mike locked Hannah out of The Cookie Jar, he made her promise not to interfere.'

'You're locked out of The Cookie Jar?' Sally turned to Hannah.

'It's a crime scene and they roped it off. I know it's a lot to ask, but I've got all the Winter Carnival cookies to bake and . . . '

'Save your breath,' Sally interrupted her. 'You can bake here.'

'Are you sure you don't mind?'

Sally shook her head. 'That's what friends are for. Besides, it gives me the inside track on your investigation. You'll be out here and I can hear everything firsthand.'

'Thanks, Sally.' Hannah felt a giant weight slip off her shoulders. Her immediate problem was solved, but there was an even bigger one to tackle. 'Do you have a minute to tell me about the people who worked for Connie Mac? We need to find out if any of them had a reason to kill her.'

'If you ask me, they all had reasons. Connie Mac was a terror to work for.'

Andrea's eyes widened and she stared at Sally. 'Are you sure? She seemed so nice.'

'That was just her public image. She was a lot different when somebody crossed her.'

Hannah set down her coffee cup and pulled out her notebook. 'Then everyone who worked for Connie Mac is a possible suspect?'

'That's about the size of it. And don't forget my staff. Connie Mac was only here for a couple of hours, but, she managed to send four of my maids downstairs in tears.'

'I just can't believe it!' Andrea still looked shocked. 'She was really that bad?'

'She was worse. To tell the truth, I'm surprised someone didn't kill her long before this.'

Hannah glanced at her sister. Andrea was wearing an expression that reminded her of the first fish she'd ever caught. 'I think we should try to narrow the field,' Hannah said, turning her attention back to Sally. 'Is there anyone who had a particular grudge against Connie Mac?'

'There's the man who drove her supply van in the ditch. Earl Flensburg pulled him out and he let the guy use the phone in his tow truck. Connie Mac wouldn't even let him tell her what happened. She just fired him right over the phone.'

Hannah jotted a note to check with Earl. 'Anyone else?'

'There's Alan Carpenter. He's Connie Mac's lawyer and she threatened to fire him yesterday afternoon.'

'How do you know that?'

'I was there. I was filling in for my bartender and Alan was sitting at the far end of the bar. When Connie Mac came in, right after your tour, she really lit into him.'

'What did she say?' Hannah asked, her pen poised to take notes.

'Let me think.' Sally paused for a moment. 'I was heading over to take her order, and I heard her say, 'Half? But he can't do that!' And Alan said, 'He's already done it. It's signed and witnessed.' '

'Who's this he?' Hannah asked, silently apologizing to Miss Parry and her sixth-grade grammar class.

'I don't know, and I sure didn't ask. Connie Mac looked so mad, I backtracked to polish some glasses.'

'But you could hear what they said?'

'Of course. I was only a few feet away and I could see them in the mirror behind the bar. Connie Mac glared daggers at Alan, and that's when she threatened him. She said, 'Get him to change it, or you're fired. Don't forget that you're my lawyer and I can have you disbarred for not protecting my interests.' '

Hannah added Alan Carpenter's name to her list of suspects, then glanced over at Andrea. Her sister still looked like a hooked fish. 'Are you all right, Andrea/'

'I'm okay.' Andrea straightened up and took a deep breath. 'I just don't understand how I could be so gullible. I can usually read people better than that.'

Sally reached over to pat Andrea's shoulder. 'Connie Mac pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. She had me fooled too, at first.'

'That's what TV stars get paid to do,' Hannah commented, and then she turned back to Sally. 'Where is Alan Carpenter now?'

'He left with Connie Mac's husband right before you got here. I didn't know it at the time, but they must have been going to officially identify the body.'

'You're probably right.' Hannah shifted hears. She didn't want to think about how a husband must feel having to identify his wife's dead body 'What's your impression of Connie Mac's husband?'

'I like Paul. He's everything that Connie Mac just pretended to be.' Sally hesitated, and faint worry lines appeared on her forehead. 'Is he a suspect?'

'Not if he has an alibi,' Hannah told her. 'Was he here all night?'

'I don't know. Paul didn't come in while I was bartending, but he could have been up in their suite. One of my maids might know.'

'I'll talk to them later,' Hannah said, and jotted another note. 'How about Spencer, her chauffeur?'

'He told me he was on call. Connie Mac was supposed to call him when she finished baking, and he had to go pick her up. He was in the bar until I closed at one.'

Andrea looked shocked. 'Spencer was drinking?'

'Only coffee. I think he went through about a gallon while was waiting. When I closed the bar, he went out to the lobby. My night man said he sat there in a chair by the fireplace all night.'

Hannah nodded and crossed Spencer off her list of suspects. If he'd been a the inn all night, he couldn't have killed Connie Mac. 'Did you meet everyone on Connie Mac's staff?'

'Yes. When they checked in on Monday, Paul introduced them to me. Most of them spent a lot of time at the mall, arranging for the grand opening of the boutique, but they all came back here for dinner. They seemed like a nice bunch of people, Hannah. Connie Mac was the only exception.'

'How about Paul and Connie Mac? Do you think it was a good marriage?'

'It wouldn't surprise me if it wasn't. He was nice and she was nasty. They must have mixed like oil and water.'

'Was Paul here when Connie Mac checked in?'

'Yes, but they didn't see each other, if that's what you're asking. I worked the front desk from noon to two and Paul called down to leave a message for her. Connie Mac was supposed to come straight up to their suite when she arrived, because Paul needed to talk to her about something important.'

'And you gave her the message?'