"That's a good idea." Hannah pulled out a bag, filled it with a dozen cookies, and handed it to Jed. "Take these to Freddy and tell him they're from both of us."

"Thanks, Hannah. You're really a great person, you know?"

Once the door had closed behind Jed, Hannah gave another long sigh. She hoped that Freddy had learned his lesson and that Jed would keep a better eye on him.

The next few minutes were slow, so Hannah took advantage of her downtime by refilling the sugar dispensers and stocking the tables with packets of artificial sweetener. She'd never figured out why people who'd scarf down cookies would put artificial sweetener in their coffee, but they did. She'd just finished when Mich.e.l.le walked in through the swinging door from the kitchen.

"Hi, Hannah." Mich.e.l.le hugged herself and shivered slightly. "Lisa's cupcakes look fantastic, but I'm not supposed to say 258 any more than that. It's really cold in your kitchen with that air conditioner running full blast."

Hannah stared at her sister's outfit. Mich.e.l.le was wearing a pair of white shorts that were so tight she probably had to stretch out on the bed to zip them up. Her pink spandex top barely covered what it had to legally cover and while the outfit looked good on her, it wasn't the sort of thing the Lake Eden girls wore to town. Hannah knew she shouldn't say anything, Mich.e.l.le was old enough to choose her own clothing, but she couldn't resist. "Maybe if you had more clothes on, you wouldn't think my kitchen was so cold."

"Not you too!" Mich.e.l.le gave an exasperated sigh. "You're getting more like Mother every day!"

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Hannah countered. "Mother has her good points."

"Name one!"

"Well... she's always ... um ..." Hannah paused and then she began to laugh. "All right. I can't think of any right off the top of my head, but I'm sure there are plenty. How did your lunch with the girls go?"

"Fantastic. I made your spinach quiche and the girls really raved about it. They all wanted the recipe, but I said I'd have to ask you first. It's not a secret or anything, is it?"

Hannah laughed. "No, you can give it to them."

"Good. I just came from Granny's Attic and we're all getting together out at the cottage tonight. You'll drive out, won't you?"

"Well..."

"Come on, Hannah. I don't come home that often and it's fun if we all get together. We're having Chinese. Since you're on a diet, Mother called in a whole order of vegetables for you. Lonnie's picking up the food on his way out to the lake."

"You're seeing Lonnie two nights in a row?"

"Yes," Mich.e.l.le said, and her cheeks turned pink. "Our date got cut short last night with Freddy and all, and we've still got a lot of catching up to do."

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 259.

Hannah decided not to say anything. As Delores might describe it when she was in her Regency-speak mode, Mich.e.l.le had a telling blush.

"It's not serious, so don't start worrying. It's just that Raj and I are so different."

"Oh?"

"He grew up in New York City and he doesn't know anything about small-town life. When I called him last night, I told him about the potluck picnic and barbecue, and how everyone brings their best dish."

"And?" Hannah waited for the punch line.

"He said he'd never been to a potluck picnic, but it sounded like a lot of work to him. And then he asked me why they didn't just call someone in to cater the whole thing."

"Different cultures?"

"And different incomes," Mich.e.l.le said with a sigh. "He told me his mother's never set foot in their kitchen. They have a full-time cook."

"Imagine that," Hannah commented, biding her time.

"Raj thinks everything I tell him about Lake Eden is amusing. It's almost like he thinks we're all country b.u.mpkins."

Hannah had the feeling that Raj wouldn't be in the picture for much longer. "I guess we might seem that way to someone who was raised in a cosmopolitan city."

"I know, but his att.i.tude burns me sometimes. He thinks he knows everything and I don't know anything." Mich.e.l.le glanced down at her watch. "I'd better hit the road. I'm running out to CostMart. Do you need anything?"

Hannah was about to say no when she remembered the down pillow. "Will you see if their goose-down pillows came in? Andrea tried to buy one for me, but they were sold out. She brought me a rain check for the sale price."

"Sure." Mich.e.l.le waited until Hannah had produced her rain check and handed it over. "I'm going to buy a new bathing suit. And before you ask, I'm getting a one-piece."

"A one-piece that doesn't have strategic holes? And isn't 260 cut up to here?" Hannah pointed to a spot on the outside of her thigh that was almost as high as her waist.

"Don't worry. It'll be modest enough to please even Mother. What time do you think you'll be out at the cabin?"

Hannah thought about her time schedule. There was no cookie dough to mix for tomorrow. They were closed for the Fourth and she was taking Sat.u.r.day off to give them a three-day weekend. "Right after we close, I'll run home to feed Moishe and then I'll drive out. I should be there by six-thirty or seven."

"Okay. I'll bring your pillow if they have them." "Do you want me to give you some money?" "Mother gave me her credit card. I'll use it and you can settle up with her later."

Mich.e.l.le went out the front door and Hannah watched as a pa.s.sing car slowed down so the driver could stare. The outfit her baby sister was wearing was what the older generation of women in Lake Eden would refer to as a husband-catcher. Hannah knew that Mich.e.l.le wasn't thinking of marriage at this point in her life, but the weatherman on KCOW radio was predicting cooler temperatures and rain for this evening. If Mich.e.l.le wore her husband-catcher outfit tonight, what she'd catch would be a nasty summer cold.

-It was five-thirty, The Cookie Jar was closed, and Hannah *

was adding up the day's receipts when Lisa came into the coffee shop. "I'm done, Hannah."

"Already?" Hannah was surprised. Lisa had made fast work of baking the cupcakes. , "The only thing left is to store them in the cooler. Go take a look and tell me what you think."

Hannah headed for the kitchen feeling slightly guilty. Their dessert for the town picnic and barbecue was all finished and all she'd done was dash to the Red Owl for a few items.

"Oh, my!" Hannah gasped, as she stepped through the swinging door and caught sight of the trays of cupcakes that 261.

Lisa had made. Some were frosted with bright blue icing, others with bright red, and the rest with white. The cupcakes were standing on six of Hannah's largest rectangular serving trays and each tray was arranged to resemble the American flag with alternating rows of red and white. The upper left-hand corner of each tray was a field of blue cupcakes and Lisa had even piped little white stars on the blue icing.

As she approached the trays, Hannah realized that the cupcakes were in edible containers. Lisa had used ice cream cones instead of cupcake papers.

"Well? What do you think?"

Hannah turned to see Lisa grinning at her from the doorway. "They're really wonderful!"

"I didn't know for sure if the cones would work, but I couldn't see any reason why they wouldn't."

"And you were right," Hannah said, walking over to give her partner a hug. "They're perfect for the Fourth, and every mother in town is going to thank you."

"Why?"

"Because they won't have to peel off the cupcake papers and wipe sticky fingers after dessert."

Lisa looked absolutely astounded for a moment and then she started to giggle. "You're right. These cupcakes are perfect for the kids, but I didn't even think of that when I made them."

"That isn't why you baked them in the cones?"

Lisa shook her head. "I did it because I looked in all the cupboards and I couldn't find enough cupcake pans."

Chapter TWenty-Four.

Are you sure you don't want me to follow you home?"

Norman looked concerned as he opened the screen door of the cottage for her. "It looks really nasty."

"I'll be fine," Hannah said, glancing up at the lightning that was zigzagging across the sky. The storm had rolled in across the lake during dinner and by the time Delores had opened the bag with the fortune cookies, Hannah had announced that she had to leave.

"Hold on a second. I'm coming along." Mike got up from his place at the table and joined them. "You're not going to be able to outrun that storm, Hannah. It'll hit before you get home."

Hannah stepped out the door with both men following her. The air was so humid, it was like someone had put on a giant teakettle and it was steaming away to humidify the whole county. "Maybe, but I've driven through hundreds of storms before."

"This looks like a bad one," Mike commented as they walked toward Hannah's truck. "How are your windshield wipers?"

"They're fine. I just replaced the blades."

"And your tires?"

263.

"They're practically new. Stop being such a worrywart, Mike." Hannah gave him a smile to show that she appreciated his concern even though she thought he was being ridiculously overcautious. "If it starts coming down in buckets, I'll pull off to the side of the road until I can drive safely again."

"Will you call the cottage when you get home?" Norman asked, opening the door of the truck for Hannah. "Then we'll know you got there all right."

Hannah climbed behind the wheel and lowered the window. "I'll call the minute I walk in the door. Give me at least an hour, though. It might take me that long to get home."

"I still think I should follow you," Mike said, beginning to, frown.

"Thanks, but that's not necessary." Hannah started her car and gave a little wave as she drove off. She glanced in her rearview mirror and chuckled slightly. Norman had one hand half-lifted in a wave, but Mike was glowering like there was no tomorrow. He really didn't like it when he didn't get his way and he'd wanted to follow her home. The fact that he was worried about her was flattering, but she didn't like being cast in the role of a helpless female.

The tall pines around the sh.o.r.eline of Eden Lake kept the sky mostly hidden from view. Hannah didn't realize how dark it had become until she turned onto the main road. The first thing she noticed was the ominous blend of colors above her. The sky was a deep charcoal gray, streaked with dirty yellow. Purplish black storm clouds roiled up from the horizon and they reminded Hannah of a witch's caldron churning and bubbling with an evil potion. It was the same ugly color combination the artist had used in an oil painting hanging on the wall of Granny's Attic. It was ent.i.tled "Disaster," and Hannah was heartily sorry she'd remembered that.

The wind began to pick up as Hannah pa.s.sed the Quick Stop. She noticed that Ron and Sean had battened down the hatches by taping huge cardboard sheets to the inside of 264.

their front windows. They'd never done that before and Hannah turned on the radio to see if there might be a tornado warning in effect.

At first there was only static and then a faint announcer's voice that cut in and out. Hannah had only managed to catch the words, "storm" and "century" before a sharp gust of wind caught the side of her truck and caused her to swerve dangerously. Just as she'd righted her heading and maneuvered back into her own lane of traffic, another gust of wind from the opposite direction sent her perilously close to the ditch. Hannah was seriously considering the wisdom of stopping and waiting until the winds had subsided when the decision was taken out of her hands. The wind gusted a third fierce time, snapping off a branch from a giant oak tree by the side of the road and hurtling it through the air, straight toward the front of her truck.

Hannah cranked the wheel as hard as she could, but there was no avoiding the wooden missile. It crashed into her windshield with a mighty thunk that rattled her truck and then it bounced back off again, taking the radio antenna with it. Hannah hit the brakes and muscled the truck over to the side of the road, pulling to a stop in a churning spume of gravel. By the time she'd stopped shaking and gotten out to a.s.sess the situation, the rain was beginning to fall. The branch didn't seem to have done too much damage, at least none that a bottle of touch-up paint wouldn't cure, but her radio antenna had snapped off at the base, leaving dangling wires and a hole in her hood where it had been attached.

"At least I won't have to listen to the storm warnings," Hannah muttered, picking up the wires and poking them back through the hole. The antenna was nowhere to be found, but she was sure that Ted Koester would be able to replace it with a new one from his salvage yard. Her windshield was intact and her truck was still running, and those were the important things. She should be able to get the rest of the way home.

It was only after she'd slid back into the driver's seat that LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 265.

Hannah realized her blouse and jeans were soaked. There was nothing like driving home in a storm, sopping wet. This was the sort of thing colds were made of and Hannah hated summer colds. She reached into the back of her truck, shoved aside the down pillow that Mich.e.l.le had picked up for her, and grabbed a towel from the stack she carried for catering. After her hair, face, and hands were dry, she felt much more in charge. This wasn't so bad. The log hadn't crashed through the windshield and she wouldn't melt like sugar just because she was wet. Hannah was preparing to pull back out on the road again when she realized that her pa.s.senger's-side windshield wiper had stopped working altogether and the one on the driver's side was limping along like a lame duck.

There was nothing to do but go for it. Sitting here at the side of the road wouldn't get her anywhere and there was no way she wanted Norman and Mike to find her in this helpless position. Hannah pulled out on the road again, thankful that the rain was light. Her wiper was operating hi fits and starts. Every time the wind gusted, it stopped Hannah inched along in the gathering darkness, hoping that no one would come up behind her at a speedy clip.

She'd gone only about a quarter of a mile when the rain began to fall harder. The small drops turned into larger drops and then into sheets of pouring rain. Her wiper stuttered with each new gust of wind, locked into a life-or-death battle with the elements. When it seemed certain that the elements would win, Hannah pulled over to the side of the road again and thumped her hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

"Oh, great!" Hannah groaned, accepting the inevitable. If she wanted to get home, there was only one thing to do. She lowered her window, poked her head out, and drove slowly down the shoulder of the road, listening for upcoming traffic and peering into the driving rain to look for her turnoff.

It was slow going. Every minute or so, Hannah had to stop to wipe off her face and her hair. She could think of 266.

pleasant ways to spend an evening and this wasn't one of them. If she'd known this was going to happen, she would have encouraged both Norman and Mike to follow her home!

By the time Hannah reached the turnoff, she felt like a drowned rat. Her hair was hanging in limp strands and her cheeks were raw from the stinging rain. She glanced at her watch and groaned loudly. It was almost an hour since she'd left the lake cottage. Visions of Mike and Norman waiting for her at her condo when she arrived were daunting, and she knew she'd better call to let them know that she was all right.

The first place Hannah pa.s.sed was the apartment where Rhonda had lived. She pulled into the garage, parked her truck in a spot designated for visitors, and headed straight for Beatrice and Ted Koester's apartment. They owned and managed the building and they'd let her use their phone.

"Hannah!" Beatrice looked shocked when she opened her door in response to Hannah's knock. "Did your truck break down?"

"Yes, and no. It's still running, but the windshield wipers conked out on me. I had to stick my head out the window and that's why I'm so wet."

"Well, don't just stand there. Come in and dry off." Beatrice held the door open wider. "I'll get you a bath towel."

Hannah smiled her thanks as she slipped out of her soggy sandals in the hall and padded into Beatrice's dry apartment. "Could I use your phone? Mother's waiting for my call and I want to let her know that I'm all right. I promise I'll try not to drip on anything."

"That doesn't matter." Beatrice gestured toward the wall phone in the kitchen. "I was planning on washing the floor tonight anyway. Ted likes a clean home. It's a nice contrast to all that dirt and grease out at the sc.r.a.p yard. He makes a good living, though. Especially since he added the auto salvage. Go ahead, Hannah. I'll get you that towel and a cup of coffee. You look chilled to the bone."

Hannah accepted the towel Beatrice brought her and did LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 267.

her best to mop herself off. Then she called the lake cottage and Mich.e.l.le answered the phone.

"Hi, Hannah. I'm so glad you're home. Mike and Norman were beginning to get worried. Hold on a second and I'll tell them."

Hannah opened her mouth to say she wasn't home, but Mich.e.l.le had already set the phone down. She could hear her youngest sister talking in the background, conveying the message that Hannah was home and everything was fine.

"I told them," Mich.e.l.le came back on the line. "The storm was pretty fierce out here. Did you run into much rain?"

"Oh yes," Hannah said, knowing that she was uttering a gross understatement. The rain was still drumming against Beatrice's windows with considerable force.

"Mike and Norman said they'll call you back. Mother's car got hit by lightning and the guys are going out to look at it."

Hannah thought fast. If Mike or Norman called her back at her apartment, they'd get her answer machine. "Tell them to give me at least forty-five minutes. I'm chilled and I'm going to take a hot shower."

"Okay, Hannah. I'll tell them. I'm really glad you got home okay. We were all worried."