Hannah groaned when the alarm clock rang at four the next morning. It was time to get up, and she felt as though she’d just gone to bed. After Andrea had gone home to pack her overnight bag and Norman had taken the cats and their things to Delores and Doc’s penthouse, the three of them had stayed up late in the lobby talking.
Reluctantly, Hannah got out of bed, put on her robe, and was just trying to decide if she was awake enough to take a shower without drowning when she heard a soft knock on the door. Puzzled, she went to answer it and found one of Sally’s kitchen workers standing outside with a tray.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” the woman said, handing the tray to Hannah. “Sally said to bring up coffee. She’s in the kitchen starting the rolls and she said to tell you that she started breakfast for you two.”
Hannah hoped she didn’t look quite as shocked as she felt. “Sally’s up already?”
“Yes. Sally always gets up at three-thirty. There’s a lot of prep work to be done in the kitchen and she likes to help.”
“But does Sally ever sleep?”
“Oh, yes. She takes a two-hour nap every afternoon right after the lunch buffet.”
“Sounds like Sally gets about as much sleep as you do,” Andrea said, climbing out of bed so that she could pour herself a cup of coffee. “Shall I pour one for you, Hannah?”
“Not yet. I’m awake now so I’ll take a quick shower and get dressed first.”
“I love room service,” Andrea said, sitting down on the side of her bed and sipping coffee. “It’s coffee you don’t have to make and food you don’t have to cook. What could be better than that?”
“Not a whole lot,” Hannah replied, heading off to the shower.
Taking a shower didn’t take long. Hannah stepped out of the spacious shower enclosure ten minutes later, wrapped in a large bath sheet. She reminded herself to go to CostMart to pick up the kind of bath sheets that Sally used as she toweled off. Then she wrapped herself in the old-fashioned chenille robe she’d picked up at Lake Eden’s thrift store, Helping Hands, and walked back out into the bedroom. “Your turn,” she said to Andrea. “The shower’s set on hot and it’s hot enough to cook shrimp in a couple of minutes, so reduce the temperature if you don’t like it very hot and almost scalding.”
“Will do,” Andrea said. “Thanks for telling me. There’s a croissant left on the tray if you want it. And Sally sent us two dishes of cut-up fruit. I ate mine and left yours.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, heading to the closet to choose the long-sleeved billboard tee shirt she wanted for the day. She pulled a forest green one with the words “The Cookie Jar” emblazed across the chest in red and spread it out on her bed. Then she dressed quickly, slipped on a forest green sweater, and went to pour her first cup of what many people of Scandinavian descent called “Swedish Plasma” in Lake Eden, Minnesota.
The coffee she poured was hot and strong and Hannah drank it greedily. As she sipped, she decided that she agreed with Andrea. Room service was one of the joys of staying in a hotel on vacation. And even though this wasn’t exactly a vacation, there were times, like now, when she almost felt like it was.
One glance at the pastry basket told her that Andrea had eaten her croissant and one of the muffins that had probably been there. She picked up the second muffin, slathered it with butter, and smiled as she tasted it. The butter was salted and the muffin was delicious. It took her a moment to recognize the flavor of the fruit inside, and she began to smile as she realized that it was rhubarb. Rhubarb was a favorite fruit in Minnesota. Almost everyone Hannah knew who owned a house had rhubarb growing somewhere in their yard. Because it was so plentiful and people didn’t have to go to the grocery store to buy it, it was used in a multitude of bakery goods. There were rhubarb muffins, rhubarb pie, rhubarb cookies, rhubarb cakes, and rhubarb cookie bars. There was also a plentiful supply of rhubarb sauce in almost every household. It was served even more often than cranberry sauce. It graced the table with every meat, fish, or poultry, and some people, including Hannah’s great-grandmother Elsa, had even spread it on bologna sandwiches to add a little interest. Actually, now that she thought about it, Hannah could only think of one baked item using rhubarb that she’d never heard of.
“I’m ready,” Andrea said, coming out of the bathroom fully dressed. “Is there any more coffee?”
“There’s plenty. Sally sent up two pots,” Hannah told her. “Do you know anyone who’s ever made a rhubarb soufflé?”
Andrea thought about that for a moment and shook her head. “No. Did the rhubarb muffin bring on that train of thought?”
“Yes. I was trying to think of some baked item that hadn’t used rhubarb.”
Andrea thought it over for several seconds and then she shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a rhubarb soufflé.”
“Neither have I. Maybe I should try making one.”
“You could, but . . . maybe it’ll be like Michelle’s duck soup.”
Hannah was slightly taken aback. “Michelle makes duck soup?”
“That’s past tense. Michelle made duck soup,” Andrea corrected her. “Only once, and everyone agreed that she should never make it again.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“It was dreadful! She tried it while you were away at college and invited Bill and I over for dinner. That was before Tracey was born.”
“Did she make it like turkey soup?”
“Yes. She told us she used a turkey soup recipe and just substituted the duck. It was awful, Hannah.”
“But why?”
“I’m not sure. Bill and I like duck and so did Dad and Mother. I’m not exactly sure why we didn’t like the soup, but none of us could eat more than a spoonful before we had to go pick up pizza.”
Hannah considered that for a moment. “I’m not sure why it wouldn’t work, but now that I think about it, I’ve never seen a recipe for duck soup. There’s baked duck, warm duck salad, and duck pate, but no duck soup.”
“Take it from me, there’s a reason. Once you’ve tried Michelle’s Duck Soup . . . you’ll duck soup for the rest of your life.”
Hannah groaned and rolled her eyes,
“Are you going to eat that croissant?” Andrea asked.
“There’s another?” Hannah asked, pulling the napkin back a little farther.
“Yes, and I think it’s a chocolate croissant.”
“Ah yes. I see it. Do you want it, Andrea?”
“Yes, if you don’t. I miss Bill a little and I think the chocolate might make me feel a little happier.”
Hannah bit back a smile. It was one of the lamest excuses she’d ever heard, but Andrea deserved to have it. Sally had mentioned that Andrea had refused to take a salary and she was working long hours right along with Hannah. “You can have it,” Hannah said, passing the basket to Andrea. “And when you’re finished, we’d better get down to the kitchen. The woman who brought up the breakfast tray said that Sally had already started the Caramel Pecan Rolls.”