Chapter Two
Hannah stopped just inside her condo door and stared around her in shock. There had been a blizzard in her living room! Her wall-to-wall carpeting, normally a dark green color that she’d chosen because it reminded her of a lush green lawn, was covered with fluffy white snowflakes. Except it wasn’t snow, and it wasn’t flakes. And there was the empty couch pillow cover to prove it. Hannah picked up the cover and read the tag listing the contents. What she’d thought was snow was really the “unidentified fibers” CostMart used as stuffing in their decorator sofa pillows.
“Moishe?” she called out, realizing that her orange-and-white feline roommate was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t hurtled himself into her arms as he usually did when she came in the door, and that meant he was probably responsible. The pillow was a bit wet on the corner, from kitty saliva no doubt, and at least two paws’ worth of claws had shredded the fabric to pull out the faux snow. The male companion who shared her home and her bed knew he’d done wrong and he was hiding somewhere, waiting for her to get over her initial shock and anger before he showed himself.
At least the pillow stuffing was easy to collect. Hannah got a garbage bag from the broom closet and began to fill it with the fluffy white balls. As she bent, retrieved, and stuffed, she thought about the very few times that Moishe had misbehaved.
A month or two after he’d decided to set up residence with her, Hannah had forgotten to empty his litter box when she cleaned the condo. Moishe had given her a one-day grace period, but the following night, when she’d come home from work at her bakery and coffee shop, she discovered that he’d accomplished the task himself and the litter was scattered all over the floor. At that late stage, it had been impossible for Hannah to tell whether her fastidious feline had gotten in to scratch it out, or whether he’d tipped the pan to dump it out and then righted it again. It didn’t really matter in the giant scheme of things. She’d never needed another reminder to empty Moishe’s litter box.
A more serious infraction had taken place a month or two after the litter box incident. Moishe had taken an immediate dislike to Hannah’s mother, and he’d snagged several pairs of her real silk and really expensive pantyhose before Delores had decided that Hannah should visit her, rather than the other way around. Hannah liked to think that her kitty’s dislike of Delores came from an effort to protect her from her mother’s not-so-gentle reminders that she was over thirty, her biological clock was ticking, and she was still single. Perhaps that was true. Or perhaps Moishe simply didn’t like the perfume Delores wore, or the pitch of her voice, or any of a hundred other things.
Hannah glanced at the deflated pillow casing. The litter box message and her mother’s shredded stockings had been easy to interpret. This message was not so obvious. Did it mean that Moishe had suddenly developed an aversion to pillows? Although she’d never been to veterinary school, she didn’t think it was common for cats to develop pillowphobia. Had Moishe objected to her color scheme for couch accessories and decided to let his preferences be known? The wine-colored pillow was intact, but he’d quite literally beaten the stuffing out of the light green pillow. Perhaps the light green color had reminded him of some traumatic incident in his kittenhood?
“Ridiculous!” she murmured under her breath. If there was a message in Moishe’s pillow bashing, it probably had something to do with what was inside the pillow. Hannah let her imagination run wild. It was possible that a colony of bugs originating from the country that exported CostMart’s unidentified pillow fibers had hatched.
Hannah glanced down at the fibers she’d tossed in the garbage bag. She didn’t see any bugs. Could they be tiny, almost microscopic insects that would flutter around harmlessly for a day or two and then disappear? Or were they some type of science fiction worm that would invade her body, take over her mind, and…
A small pathetic sound brought Hannah out of her late-night horror movie scenario. Moishe was inching across the rug toward her, clearly unsure of her reaction but unable to stay away any longer from the mistress he loved. His expression was wide-eyed innocent, and it seemed to say, What happened to that pillow? You don’t think I did that, do you? He reminded Hannah of her niece, Tracey, who’d come out of the kitchen at The Cookie Jar with chocolate smears on her face, insisting that she’d given a half-dozen chocolate chip cookies to a poor starving man who’d knocked at the back door.
“It’s okay,” Hannah said, cutting straight to the chase. “I know you shredded that pillow, and I’m not mad at you. I just wish I knew why you did it.”
Moishe gave as close to a shrug as a cat could give, hunching his shoulders forward and then back. His tail flicked once and his eyes opened wide. Hannah thought he looked thoroughly bewildered. Perhaps he didn’t know why he’d done it either, and she reached down to pick him up.
The moment she lifted him up into her arms, he began to purr. Hannah nuzzled him and gave him a little scratch behind the ears in the spot he loved. He licked her hand to show that he was grateful for her forgiveness. At least she thought it was to indicate that he was grateful. It could also have something to do with the fact that she’d packed up the leftover cookies and probably smelled like butter.
“Just let me finish up here,” Hannah said, placing him on the back of the couch so that she could pick up the last few clumps of pillow innards. She tied the bag shut, placed it by the door so she’d remember to carry it out to the dumpster when she left for the evening, and beckoned to Moishe, who was watching her intently. “I bet you’d like lunch. I know I would.”
After a quick survey of the pantry and cupboards, Hannah turned to her cat again. “How about Salmon Cakes?”
“Yowwww!” Moishe said.
Hannah took that as approval and she selected a small can of red salmon from the pantry. She opened it and dumped it into a strainer, removing the soft backbones and the dark skin for Moishe. Once she’d thoroughly drained the fish and flaked it, she cut the crusts from two slices of sourdough bread and tore it into small pieces. She’d just added the last few ingredients to the bowl when Moishe gave another yowl.
“Can’t wait, huh?” Hannah glanced down at her pet. By some miracle, or perhaps it was a deliberate trick, her twenty-three-pound cat managed to look half-starved. If it was a trick, it was a good one. Hannah just wished that she could emulate it when she tried to wriggle into the bronze silk dress she planned to wear to the dance at Lisa and Herb’s family reunion tonight.
Moishe gave another yowl, and it sounded so pathetic that Hannah surrendered and dumped the salmon bones and skin in his food bowl. While her cat attacked it with the same ferocity he would have shown to a small, furry rodent, she gave her bowl a final stir. She was just shaping the mixture into cakes about the size of a hamburger patty and preparing to fry them in butter when the phone rang.
Hannah turned to look at her pet. He’d lifted his head from the last of the salmon and was staring at the phone balefully. As it rang again, his ears went back and flattened against his head. The hair on his back began to bristle, and a low growl, more doglike than catlike, rumbled from his throat.
“Mother?” Hannah asked him, already knowing the answer. There was only one person in the universe who got such a negative response from her cat. Surprisingly, mostly because she didn’t believe in ESP or any of its cousins, Moishe was right more times than he was wrong. It was probably Delores. Hannah reached for the phone, lifted it out of its cradle, and answered, “Hello, Mother.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Hannah!” Delores gave her standard reply.
“Do what?” Hannah asked, even though she knew exactly what her mother meant.
“Say Hello, Mother before you really know who it is. What if it was someone else?”
“Then I’d be wrong.”
“Yes. And you’d feel very foolish, wouldn’t you?”
“Not really.”
“Well!” There was a long pause while Delores considered it. Finally, she spoke. “You’re right. You wouldn’t. But I really wish you’d just say hello like a normal person.”
“I know you do.” Hannah felt a little niggle of guilt for annoying her mother. “It’s just that I can’t seem to resist.”
Delores sighed so heavily, it sounded like a little explosion in Hannah’s ear. “You do it because you know it bothers me, don’t you?”
“In a way. It’s become almost like a game. I say, Hello, Mother. You say, I wish you wouldn’t do that. And I say, Do what? And then you give me a reason not to answer the phone that way. It’s what we always do before we really start to talk.”
“So it’s our own private greeting? A mother-daughter ritual?”
“That’s exactly right.” Hannah nodded even though she knew her mother couldn’t see it. There were times when Delores was amazingly perceptive.
“Then we’d better continue to do it, dear. Rituals are important. They’re patterns for us to follow to bridge awkward moments.”
“That’s extremely insightful, Mother.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ve been researching the English Regency period and the number of formal traditions they practiced was truly amazing. Did you know that the dress a debutante wore to be presented at court had to follow strict guidelines? And her curtsy had to be just so?”
“I didn’t know.”
“And did you know that the number of removes at a formal dinner was dictated by the family’s social status?”
“No. What are removes?”
“They’re similar to courses, dear.”
Hannah nodded. Unlike some Regency conventions, this one was aptly named. When a meal was served formally, the server removed the plates from the previous course before presenting the next. And sometimes the plate or bowl had a cover that was removed with a flourish. “Are you doing this research for your Regency Romance Club?”
“Only partially, dear. And that reminds me…we’re thinking about serving high tea as a fundraiser. Do you think you could help us with the pastries?”
“Sure. Have you set a date?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be before Christmas. I’ll do more research on exactly what they served and how it was presented. Perhaps, if they had scones in Regency times, Sally could make some of hers.”
It was clearly going to be a long conversation. Hannah stretched out the phone cord, put a frying pan with butter on the burner, and turned on the heat. “I didn’t know Sally made scones.”
“Today was her first batch. She served them to us at brunch, and they were delicious.”
“You went out to the Lake Eden Inn for brunch?” Hannah tipped the pan so the butter would melt faster.
“Yes, with all the relatives who arrived early for the reunion. Carrie and I were standing there talking to Marge after you left the church, and Gus practically had to invite us.”
“Gus York? Or Marge’s brother, Gus?”
“Marge’s brother. He asked Marge to recommend a good place for brunch, and then he invited us all.”
“That was nice of him.”
Delores gave a little snort that Hannah could hear clearly over the receiver. “It was the least he could do. He practically broke Marge’s heart when he left town in the middle of the night. And Marge’s mother and father never stopped hoping that he’d come home. He was the youngest, you know.”
“Why did he leave in the first place?” Hannah asked, holding the phone between her neck and her shoulder and cranking her head to the side so it wouldn’t fall as she got her plate of uncooked salmon cakes and carried them over to the stovetop. She dropped them into the frying pan and stood back slightly to avoid being splattered by the sizzling butter.
“No one knows why he left, dear.” Delores stopped speaking for a moment, and then she asked, “What’s that noise?”
“What noise?”
“It’s a frying noise. I’m on my cell phone, and it must need recharging. Anyway…the real reason I called is to ask you if you have any crackers.”
Hannah glanced at the pantry. The door was ajar, and she could see a large package of assorted crackers sitting on the shelf. “I’ve got some.”
“Good. Lisa needs you to bring them. Mike made his Lazy Day Paté for the potluck tonight, but he doesn’t get off work until six and he won’t have time to run back into town for crackers.”
“Consider it done. Anything else anyone needs?” Hannah flipped a Salmon Cake and it sputtered as it landed on its uncooked side.
“Just your Special Carrot Cake. Lisa and Herb were raving about it at the brunch, and everybody’s looking forward to trying it.”
“That’s good to hear,” Hannah said, flipping the other three Salmon Cakes.
“I’ll see you there, dear. I’ve got to go now. That frying noise is getting louder, and I just know we’ll get cut off.”
Hannah said goodbye and rubbed her sore neck as she walked over to hang up the phone. She supposed she should have admitted that her stove was the source of the frying noise her mother thought was a waning battery, but her lunch was almost ready. Since it was past two in the afternoon and she still had to assemble several veggie and dip platters, there wasn’t a lot of time to waste. She had just dished up her first helping and was placing it on the coffee table in the living room when her doorbell rang.
Hannah muttered a few choice words she never would have used around either of her nieces. Whoever it was had lousy timing. Then she picked up her plate (she knew better than to leave one of Moishe’s favorite entrees within kitty reach) and carried it to the door. “Who is it?” she asked, rather than squint through the peephole.
“Mike. I need you, Hannah.”
Those four little words were definitely the key to Hannah’s heart. She couldn’t resist a plea for help, even from the ugliest, meanest person in Lake Eden. And Mike Kingston was about as far from that description as you could get. He was ruggedly handsome, a tall Viking-type of a man, and although he was tough and fit and could pulverize an opponent in a fight, she was fairly sure there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. “Come in,” she invited, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.
“Thanks, Hannah. I had to run out here to talk to your downstairs neighbor, and I thought I’d drop by to pick up those crackers, if you’ve got them.”
“I do. But Sue and Phil aren’t in any trouble, are they?”
“Not at all. Phil witnessed an accident on the freeway when he was coming home from his night shaft at DelRay Manufacturing. I just took his statement.” Mike glanced down at the plate in her hand and his eyes widened. “That looks good! What is it?”
“Salmon Cakes, hot off the stove…or the cell phone, in Mother’s case.”
“Huh?”
“I was talking to her when I was frying them and she thought…never mind. It’s not important. Sit down and eat. I’ve got plenty for two.”
There was a yowl from the feline who was watching Mike with half-narrowed eyes, and Hannah turned to reassure him. “That’s two and a cat. I have enough for us, and for Moishe.”
“You heard her. Relax, Big Guy.” Mike gave Moishe a scratch under his chin as he sat down on the couch. Then he cut off a tiny piece of the Salmon Cake and held it out on the palm of his hand. “Here you go. This should tide you over until you get yours.”
Hannah watched as Moishe licked it up daintily. She could hear him purring all the way across the room, and she ducked into the kitchen to dish up another plate.
“What’s this sauce on top?” Mike asked when she emerged from the kitchen with her own plate. “It’s great!”
Hannah didn’t want to tell him, but she couldn’t lie outright to a man she’d come within a hair’s breadth of marrying. “It’s one of Edna Ferguson’s tricks,” she explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details.
“Tell me. Whenever I visit my sister, she sends me home with fried chicken. It gets kind of dry when I heat it in the microwave, and I bet this sauce would be good on it.”
Poor handsome bachelor who had to bring home leftovers from his sister’s table! Hannah almost felt sorry for him until she remembered that scores of Lake Eden ladies would jump at the chance to let him taste their home cooking. But he did need her, if only for cooking advice, and Hannah couldn’t resist telling him the truth. “Okay, I’ll let you in on the secret, but you can’t tell anyone else.”
“If I do, you’ll have to kill me?” Mike quipped, flashing the mischievous grin that always made her feel weak in the knees.
“Oh, I wouldn’t kill you. I’d lock you up in a closet and…” Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Some things were better left unsaid.
“And what?”
“And leave you there until I decide what to do with you,” Hannah finished her sentence with the best ambiguity she could think of on the fly.
“Okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone Edna’s secret. What is it?”
“Well, I usually make my own dill sauce with fresh baby dill, mayo, and a little cream, but it’s better if you make it the night before, and I didn’t know I’d be frying Salmon Cakes today.”
“Okay. I’ve had your fresh dill sauce with your Salmon Loaf. It’s great, but tell me what this is.”
“Campbell’s Cream of Celery soup.”
“What?”
“It’s Campbell’s Cream of Celery soup, undiluted. It makes a good sauce in a pinch. Really. All you have to do is heat it in the microwave, and it’s even better if you mix in a little dry sherry, but I’m helping Lisa with the potluck buffet tonight, and I thought I’d better not.”
“What time are you going out to the lake?”
“Four. I’m stopping by The Cookie Jar first to pick up my cakes, and then I’m heading out. How about you?”
“I should be there by six-thirty as long as I remember to take your crackers with me. Save me a dance tonight, will you?”
“Absolutely,” Hannah said, hoping her heart wasn’t beating so hard that he could see it through the light sleeveless shell she’d worn to church.
“Tell Andrea, too. And Michelle. I’m crazy about the Swensen sisters.”
Hannah smiled, but she would have liked it a lot more if he’d said that he was crazy about just her. Whatever. Mike was Mike, and you had to either take him the way he was or not take him at all.
SALMON CAKES
1 small can salmon***
2 slices bread, crusts removed (you can use any type of bread)
1 beaten egg (just whip it up in a glass with a fork)
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce (or hot sauce, or lemon juice)
? teaspoon dry mustard (that’s the powdered kind)
? teaspoon salt
? teaspoon onion powder
2 Tablespoons butter
*** Check the weight on your can of salmon. It should weigh between 7 ounces and 8 ounces—red salmon is best, but pink will do.
Open your can of salmon and drain it in a strainer. Remove any bones or dark skin. Flake it with a fork and put it in a small mixing bowl.
Cut the crusts from two standard-sized slices of bread and tear the middle part into small pieces. Add the pieces to the bowl with the salmon.
Add the egg and mix it all up with a fork.
Mix in the Worcestershire sauce (or lemon juice, or hot sauce,) the dry mustard, salt, and onion powder.
Stir it all up until it resembles a thick batter with lumps.
Divide the batter into thirds. (You don’t have to be exact—nobody’s going to measure them when you’re through. They’ll be too busy eating them.)
Spread a sheet of wax paper on a plate and pick up one of the lumps of batter. Squeeze it together with your hands to form a firm ball. Place it on the wax paper and flatten it like a hamburger patty. The patty should be about a half-inch thick.
Hannah’s 1stNote: If you flatten your Salmon Cakes too much and you’d like to make them thicker, just go ahead. All you have to do is gather the batter into a ball again and start over.
Shape the other two lumps of batter into balls and then patties. Let them sit on the wax paper for a minute or two to firm up even more.
Melt the two Tablespoons of butter in a frying pan over medium heat.
Place the Salmon Cakes in the pan and fry them over medium heat until they’re golden brown on the bottom. (That should take approximately 2 minutes.) Flip the patties over and brown the other side. (Total frying time will be approximately 4 to 5 minutes.) Remember that all you’re doing is frying the egg. Everything else has already been cooked.
Drain the Salmon Cakes on a paper towel and transfer to a serving platter. Serve with Dill Sauce, or Edna’s Easy Celery Sauce. They’re also wonderful with creamed peas, or creamed corn.
Hannah’s 2ndNote: When I do these for the family, I use my electric griddle and triple the recipe so I have nine Salmon Cakes. If you don’t have an electric griddle or you prefer to use a frying pan, you can fry them and then put them in a single layer in a pan in an oven set at the lowest temperature to keep them warm until you’ve fried them all. Make sure to refrigerate any leftovers. I’ve put leftover Salmon Cakes in the refrigerator overnight and heated them in the microwave the next day for lunch. They’re not quite as good as freshly fried, but they’re still very good. (They’re also good cold.)
Hannah’s 3rdNote: You can also make Tuna Cakes, Shrimp Cakes, Crab Cakes, Chicken Cakes and any other “cake” you can think of. All you need to do is substitute 6 to 8 ounces of the canned, or cooked and chopped main ingredient of your choice for the salmon. (This is why I always keep a can of salad shrimp, a can of tuna, and a can of chopped chicken in my pantry.)
Yield: Serves 3 if you team it up with a nice green salad and a slice of something yummy for dessert. (If you serve it alone, as a total lunch, it’ll work for one person with a big appetite, one person with a little appetite, and a cat.)
DILL SAUCE
Hannah’s Note: This sauce is best if you make it at least 4 hours in advance and refrigerate it in an airtight container. (Overnight is even better.)
2 Tablespoons heavy cream
? cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon crushed fresh baby dill (if you can’t find baby dill, you can make it with ? teaspoon dried dill weed, but it won’t be as good)
Mix the cream with the mayonnaise until it’s smooth and then mix in the dill. Put the sauce in a small bowl, cover it with plastic wrap, and refrigerate it for at least 4 hours.
EDNA’S EASY CELERY SAUCE
Hannah’s 1stNote: If you make your Salmon Cakes at the drop of a hat, the way I occasionally do, you won’t have time to make the Dill Sauce. All Edna’s Easy Celery Sauce requires is a can of cream of celery soup and some milk or cream.
Hannah’s 2ndNote: The can of cream of celery soup should be in your pantry as a staple, along with a can of cream of mushroom soup, and a can of tomato soup, and a can of cream of chicken soup. They’re a good base for any sauce you want to make on the fly.
One can of cream of celery soup, undiluted (10 to 11 ounces depending on brand name—used Campbell’s).
Milk or cream to thin
Open the can. Dump it in a small microwave-safe bowl. Heat it in the microwave until it’s piping hot. (Try 30 seconds and see if it’s hot enough. If not, heat at 15-second increments until it is. Thin it with the milk or cream to sauce consistency.)
Drizzle the sauce over the Salmon Cakes, sprinkle on a little parsley or fresh dill if you happen to have it, and serve immediately.
Hannah’s 3rdNote: Edna tells me that you can also use undiluted cream of chicken soup (if you’re using the chicken variation,) cream of mushroom soup, or cream of garlic soup. She also said something about cream of asparagus soup for Shrimp Cakes, but I haven’t tried it.