Hannah felt as if she were stuck in a time warp as they drove to the Woodleys' mansion. It was a lot like being a kid again, dragged off to a party by her mother. To make matters worse, Norman's mother had brought a camera and she'd blithely announced that she planned to take pictures of them. Hannah had feared that this evening might turn out to be an ordeal, but it was going to be even worse than she'd antic.i.p.ated.

The Woodley mansion was ablaze with lights and when they pulled up, a red-jacketed valet came forward to take Norman's car. Another parking attendant opened the doors, and Hannah and their mothers were a.s.sisted out of the car and up to the front entrance.

Hannah gazed around her as she entered the foyer on Norman's arm. It had been decorated for the occasion with banks upon banks of tropical blooms. Of course they were imported. Birds of Paradise, Royal Poinciana, and Chinese Hibiscus didn't grow in Minnesota, even in the summer. They had been transported from warmer climates, and Hannah knew they had to have been outrageously expensive.

There was a harpist, seated in an alcove, playing cla.s.sical music. Hannah thought that was a nice touch. Leave it to Judith Woodley to provide a touch of cla.s.s from the moment they entered the door.

"Your coat, ma'am?" A pretty maid, dressed in a dark green uniform and a frilly white ap.r.o.n, helped Hannah out of her coat. "Would you care to freshen up in the ladies' powder room?"

"Yes, thank you," Hannah replied, and then she turned to Norman. "I'm just going to run a currycomb through my hair."

Norman chuckled at her reference to the tool that was used to groom horses. "I like like your hair, Hannah." your hair, Hannah."

"Ma'am?" The maid touched Hannah's arm. "If you'll just follow me, please."

Hannah made arrangements to meet Norman at the bar and went off with the maid. She was an attractive brunette that Hannah didn't recognize, though she thought she'd seen her at last year's party. The Woodleys always hired outside help for their parties. Judith complained that the local girls simply weren't capable of being trained for such a special event. Hannah turned to the maid and asked, "You're not from Lake Eden, are you?"

"Minneapolis, ma'am. I work for Parties Plus, the service that Mrs. Woodley uses."

"That's a long way to drive for one party," Hannah commented, giving her a friendly smile.

"Oh, that's no problem. Mrs. Woodley arranges for our transportation, and this is one party I wouldn't want to miss. I've been here for three years in a row."

"I thought I recognized you from last year. What makes this party better than other parties?"

"It's a five-day a.s.signment and we have the use of the indoor pool and spa. Mrs. Woodley even caters our meals while we're here. It's almost like a party for us."

Hannah was fishing, but she never knew when information like this might come in handy. "I guess your regular a.s.signments aren't this nice?"

"No way. Usually we're in and out in less than six hours and we work like dogs while we're there. Mrs. Woodley always allows plenty of time for us to set up."

Hannah was curious. "How long have you been here?"

"Since Tuesday morning. We spent two days cleaning, and yesterday we set up the tables and made sure that all the gla.s.sware and dishes were ready. Today we just helped the caterer."

"When do you go back?"

"Right after we do the cleanup tomorrow morning. We're usually on the road by noon. I'll be back home by two at the latest, but Mrs. Woodley pays us for the whole day."

They had arrived at the ladies' powder room and Hannah went in to take stock of the damage. Her hair looked all right and she just patted down a few loose curls. Then she refreshed the lipstick that Luanne Hanks had decided was just perfect for her and went back out to find Norman.

Norman was standing by the bar, almost lost in a sea of taller faces. As Hannah moved toward him, she was glad her heels were only three inches high. "Hi, Norman. I'm back."

"And just in time." Norman took her arm and moved her away from the crowd. "Our mothers are headed this way. Let's go over and pay our respects to the Woodleys."

The reception line wasn't long, and Hannah and Norman took their places at the end. As they approached their host and hostess, Hannah admired Judith Woodley's dress. It was made of lilac silk and the bodice was beaded with tiny pearls. Her light brown hair was caught up in an elaborate twist on the top of her head and she looked lovely, as always. She was smiling and chattering with her guests and she appeared quite animated. Del, on the other hand, looked surprisingly glum, and Hannah noticed that there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Hannah." Judith extended her hand. "How lovely to see you."

Hannah had the insane urge to reply that it was lovely to be seen, but she thought better of it. She searched her mind for something appropriate to say and pulled out a standard compliment. "You look lovely tonight, Judith. I had no idea that Claire had such wonderful dresses in her shop."

"Claire?" Judith's green eyes widened, and Hannah knew she'd just stuck her foot in the mud. "This isn't from Beau Monde, Hannah. Billy designed it especially for me."

"Billy?"

"Billy Bla.s.s. He's a close personal friend of mine. And I see that you have a date this year. How nice."

Hannah cringed and introduced Norman to the Woodleys, making sure to mention that Norman had arrived to take over his father's dental practice. They chatted with the Woodleys for another brief moment and then they moved on.

"Billy Bla.s.s." Norman chuckled as he took Hannah's arm. "I wonder if he calls her Judy."

Hannah laughed appreciatively. This party might be fun if Norman kept making jokes. She accepted a gla.s.s of champagne from a pa.s.sing waiter and they wandered through the crowd for a few minutes, hailing the people that they knew. Then they walked over to view the appetizer table.

"Caviar." Norman pointed to the black tapioca-looking substance in a large cut-gla.s.s bowl that was nestled in a larger bowl of shaved ice.

"It's beluga," Hannah informed him. "I asked last year and the waiter told me that the Woodleys wouldn't serve anything else."

Norman was obviously impressed because he accepted a caviar-laden toast point from the waiter and smiled in antic.i.p.ation as he raised it to his mouth. Then he looked over at Hannah and froze. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I should have asked. Would you care for some caviar?"

"No, thanks. I know that beluga's the best that money can buy, but I grew up right next to a lake. It's still all just fish eggs to me."

While Norman busied himself with the caviar, Hannah walked over to survey the rest of the buffet. She'd heard that Judith had hired the best caterer in Minneapolis. Hannah could believe that as she walked past evenly fanned slices of beef fillet, platters of Smithfield ham, a whole poached salmon on a bed of dill, and several ma.s.sive plates of carved chicken and turkey breast. There was a silver platter of tender baby asparagus, each tip pointing outward to form a giant wheel with a silver pitcher of hollandaise in the center, and a large crystal bowl that was filled to the brim with glazed carrots. Hannah spared only a pa.s.sing glance for the tiny red potatoes that had been steamed in their colorful jackets and the deviled quail eggs. Her area of interest was the dessert table.

The desserts were gorgeous. There were small bites of cake that were frosted and decorated with tiny edible flowers, an array of truffles on a platter strewn with rose petals, chocolate-dipped strawberries with their stems intact, and a large silver basket filled with sugar cookies. Her professional interest aroused, Hannah selected a cookie and tasted it.

The cookie crunched in her mouth, just the way it should, but it was definitely on the dry side. The antic.i.p.ated burst of b.u.t.ter that should have exploded on her taste buds was lacking. There was no vanilla taste, either, and Hannah began to frown. These cookies looked nice, but they really had no taste at all.

"Excuse me?" The female caterer, dressed in an expensive suit, walked over to give Hannah a nervous smile. "I couldn't help noticing your reaction to the cookies. Don't you like them?"

Hannah thought about tact. Then she thought about new business. New business won out and she decided that she wouldn't be doing the caterer any favors if she didn't tell her the truth. She stepped closer and lowered her voice so that none of the other guests would hear. "The cookies are disappointing. I hope you didn't make them."

"You don't pull any punches, do you?" The caterer looked amused.

"Not really. Did you make them?"

"No. I bought them from a supplier."

Hannah was relieved. At least she didn't have to tell the caterer that her own recipe was at fault. "Don't buy from them anymore. They use cheap shortening instead of b.u.t.ter and they're much too light on the vanilla. They overbake them, too. They probably set their ovens low to keep them from browning and leave them in for too long."

"How do you know they use shortening?"

"There's no b.u.t.ter taste," Hannah explained. "A sugar cookie without b.u.t.ter is like a car without gas. It looks good, but it doesn't work."

The caterer laughed. "You've got a point. How could you tell that they're overbaked?"

"That's easy. They're as dry as sawdust. Taste one-you'll see."

"I already have and you're right. Are you in food service?"

"Just cookies. I own a place called The Cookie Jar. If you give me your card, I'll send you a sample box of good sugar cookies."

The caterer reached into her pocket and handed Hannah a card. "I've been thinking about switching suppliers. Could you handle a standing order?"

"That depends on the order." As Hannah opened her dress purse and stuck the card inside, she wished that she'd had cards made. She really hadn't thought it was important until now. "Call me if you like the cookies and we'll discuss it. I'll include my card when I send them."

After the caterer had left, Hannah turned to look for Norman. She found him standing a few feet behind her and he was grinning from ear to ear. "What is it, Norman?"

"You. You're amazing, Hannah." Norman took her arm and walked her toward the grouping of small tables that were set up for dining. "If I went after new business the way you do, I'd have to enlarge the office and put in a revolving door."

Hannah laughed. "I guess you're right. When it comes to my cookies, I know they're the best and I'm not shy about telling people. But I almost goofed, Norman. I never thought about having cards made before."

"You don't have business cards?"

Hannah shook her head. "I just didn't think it was important. I told that caterer I'd include one with the cookies, so I guess I'll have to order some."

"I'll do some for you on my computer," Norman offered. "That's how I print mine."

"Thanks, Norman." As they neared the tables, Hannah thought again about how nice Norman was. Then someone stood up and waved, and Hannah recognized Lisa and Herb. "There's Lisa. She's my a.s.sistant at the shop. And you must know Herb Beeseman. He's our town marshal."

''Marshal? I thought he was in charge of parking enforcement."

"He is, but the job doesn't pay much. Herb was the only applicant and they let him choose his own t.i.tle. He's always been fascinated by the Old West."

"I see. Well, let's go over and say h.e.l.lo."

Lisa and Herb had staked out a four-person table, and Hannah and Norman joined them for a moment. The two men immediately started talking about the traffic problem on Main Street, and Hannah turned to Lisa. "You look wonderful, Lisa. Are you having a good time?"

Lisa smiled, and Hannah noticed that her eyes were sparkling with excitement. "I saw your mother and Mrs. Rhodes. They asked if I'd seen you."

"If they ask again, lie."

Lisa laughed. "You can't avoid them forever. Mrs. Rhodes told me that she wants to take pictures of you and Norman for a memento."

"I know. That's one of the reasons I'm avoiding them."

"Grin and bear it." Lisa leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Doesn't Herb look handsome in his suit?"

Hannah glanced over at Herb. He was wearing a black suit with a Western cut and it reminded her of something Marshal Dillon might have worn at a fancy wedding on Gunsmoke. Gunsmoke. It fit so perfectly, Herb could have been one of the mannequins in the display window of an old-fashioned men's clothing store. It was quite a change from the rumpled tan uniform that he usually wore. "He certainly does." It fit so perfectly, Herb could have been one of the mannequins in the display window of an old-fashioned men's clothing store. It was quite a change from the rumpled tan uniform that he usually wore. "He certainly does."

Just then a tall figure in another impeccably cut suit caught her eye and Hannah's eyebrows rose. "I don't believe it! There's Benton Woodley!"

"The Woodleys' son?"

"Yes. I thought the heir apparent was still back east, trying to buy his degree at some Ivy League school."

Lisa stared at Hannah curiously. "You sound like you don't like him very much."

"I don't. Or at least, I didn't." Hannah sighed deeply as she remembered the buckets of tears that Andrea had shed when Benton had dumped her. "Andrea used to date him when she was in high school. I wonder if she knows that he came back for the party."

"Maybe you should tell her. I know that she's married now, but it's always uncomfortable to run into an old boyfriend."

"Good idea. Have you seen her tonight?"

"She was over by the buffet tables a couple of minutes ago."

"Thanks, Lisa. I'll see you later." Hannah stood up and waited for a break in the conversation. When it arrived, she tapped Norman on the arm. "I have to find Andrea. Would you like to come with me?"

"Sure."

Norman said goodbye to Herb and Lisa and they started across the room. They were just crossing the s.p.a.ce that would be used for dancing, when Hannah heard someone call her name.

Hannah stopped in her tracks and turned toward the warm and friendly voice. It was Benton Woodley and he was smiling at her.

"Who's that?" Norman glanced at Benton and then he turned to regard her curiously. "An old boyfriend?"

"Yes, but not mine. Come on, Norman. I'll introduce you."

It only took a moment to perform the introductions. As Benton chatted with Norman, Hannah wondered if he'd gone to the same charm school as his mother. He was polite, he seemed interested in hearing about Norman's practice, and he told her that she looked ravishing. The spoiled, know-it-all rich kid had grown up to be the perfect host.

"I'm glad to hear that you've reopened your father's practice, Norman. One never knows when one will need dental work." Benton sounded sincere and Hannah had the urge to laugh. She was willing to bet that if Benton ever needed dental work, he'd fly off to the fanciest, most expensive dentist in the country. "And how are you, Hannah?"

Hannah smiled her best party smile. "Just fine, Benton. I haven't seen you for years. Are you just here for the occasion?"

"No, Father's been a bit under the weather." Benton lowered his voice and moved a step closer. "I've come back to help him run the business."

Hannah remembered the dark circles under Del's eyes. Perhaps Benton was telling the truth. "I hope it's nothing serious."

"No, it's just that he's been working too hard. Now that I've moved back home to lend a hand, he should be fine."

"You're staying here?" Hannah was surprised. She seemed to remember that Benton had hated Lake Eden when he'd lived here.

"For a while. And it's wonderful to be back. I've always liked the ambience here, such a friendly, small-town feel. And that reminds me, I ran into Andrea and her husband a few moments ago and she mentioned that you'd opened a business. It sounds like such a quaint little shop. I'll have to make a point of dropping in soon."

Hannah bristled. Her business was a business, not a "quaint little shop." The tone in Benton's voice suggested that it was something a socialite might do as a hobby. Hannah opened her mouth to tell him that she'd worked very hard to make The Cookie Jar profitable, but she remembered about tact just in time. "It's been nice chatting with you, Benton, but we have to rush off to find Mother."

Norman waited until they were several feet away. "You want to find your mother?"

"Of course not. I just wanted to get away from Benton before I wrung his neck."

Norman grinned. "'A quaint little shop'?"

"You got it." Hannah was impressed. For a dentist, Norman was quick. "Let's go find Andrea. I really need to talk to her."

They found Andrea and Bill by the buffet tables, and from the satisfied look on Bill's face, Hannah suspected that he was about to enjoy his second or third helping of food.