Chapter Thirty-One
Hannah felt like doom was imminent as she opened the door at the Lake Eden Community Center. She was no longer worried about Ronni’s killer. Frank Hurley had fled shortly after the smoke alarm activated, but the sheriff’s department had caught him and taken him into custody. With one count of murder and a second count of attempted murder, Hannah figured it would be years, perhaps a lifetime, before Frank saw the outside world again.
When Mike’s team had searched Frank’s house, they’d found the tape from the parking lot camera, which had functioned perfectly, showing everyone leaving the birthday party before Ronni was killed. They’d also discovered the tapes from the hidden camera at the Jacuzzi, including the one that contained footage of Frank knocking Ronni unconscious and deliberately leaving her in the tub to die.
Tad Newberg had been the stalker at Macalester, but he hadn’t really done anything illegal. It was just that the romantic attentions he’d paid to one of the young teaching assistants had been both obsessive and unwelcome. She didn’t appreciate the flowers he’d left on her doorstep in the middle of the night, or the way he’d called her several times a day to ask for a date. When the head of security at the college had confronted Tad about his actions, Tad had been so embarrassed that he’d resigned.
Hannah opened the inner door and walked across the lobby. Today she faced the real danger, the menace that turned her mouth as dry as dust and caused her legs to tremble as she walked down the hall to the dressing room that brides and bridesmaids used to freshen up before their wedding receptions. It was time to try on the Regency dress that Delores had ordered for her, the same dress that had been much too tight to button only two weeks ago!
“Oh, dear!” Claire Rodgers made a little sound of distress. “It’s too large in the waist!”
“Too large in the waist,” Hannah breathed, taking immeasurable delight in saying the words. Never, in her wildest imaginings, had she ever thought anyone would use that phrase to describe an article of clothing that belonged to her!
“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Claire patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll just tie the apron strings tighter. No one will even notice.”
“No one will even notice,” Hannah breathed, and this time the words took on the character of a dirge. She’d lost so much weight that her dress was too large in the waist. And no one would even notice!
It was the big day, and Claire was there to help them dress. The actual launch party and book signing would be held in the community library with volunteer librarian, Marge Beeseman, handling the sale of their mother’s book.
“I’m so proud of you, Hannah,” Andrea complimented her. “I knew you could do it, but I had no idea that diet and exercise would work this well. Your dress really is too big.”
Michelle nodded. “She’s right. You must have lost almost twenty pounds!”
“I think it was the sauna,” Hannah said, making light of her harrowing experience. “I was in there so long, I must have sweated off ten pounds.”
“Are you girls ready?” Claire came back with a digital camera. “Your mother asked me to take a picture. She’s going to put it up on her Web site.”
“The Web site for Granny’s Attic?” Michelle asked, and Hannah could tell she was wondering how a picture of the three of them in Regency dresses would go with photos of collectibles for sale at the mothers’ antique shop.
“Mother has a new site,” Hannah told her. “Norman’s creating it for her. It’s just for her books.”
“Books, as in more than one book?” Andrea asked.
“That’s right. She says she likes writing so much she’s already working on the next one. And even more people from Lake Eden are in it!”
Andrea gave a little groan. “I just hope that Mother was complimentary when she wrote about her friends and neighbors.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “Remember the night that Mother told us about the book?” When both sisters nodded, she continued, “I write the people the way they truly are, Mother said, the way someone who didn’t know and like them the way I do would describe their flaws and their strengths.”
“Uh-oh,” Andrea breathed.
“Uh-oh is right!” Michelle gave a little groan. “But maybe we’ll get lucky and people won’t recognize themselves.”
Hannah looked doubtful. “Maybe, but I still wish Mother had set her romance in medieval England.”
“Why’s that?” Andrea asked.
“Because then she could have worn a suit of armor, just in case.”
“You look great, Hannah!” Mike said, snagging a chocolate mini cream puff from her platter, popping it into his mouth, and swallowing it practically whole. “I just love these things. Do you have a minute? I need to tell you something.”
Hannah put her tray down on top of a low bookcase and let him lead her to the back of the library, as far away from the crowd as they could get.
“You have to hear this,” Mike said with a grin, pulling his copy of A Match for Melissa from his pocket. “Here’s what your mother wrote about me. The Duke of Oakwood was a fine figure of a man, dressed in exquisitely tailored clothing and boots that glistened from the attentions of his valet. That’s me, Hannah. I always polish my boots so they shine like that. And then she said, His deep eyes sparkled with humor and gleamed with a keen intelligence, and as he ran his fingers through his hair, a lock eluded him and dropped low to his forehead. I run my fingers through my hair a lot, and she must have noticed. What do you think of that, Hannah?”
Hannah’s mind flipped through the possibilities and came up with a winner. “It’s amazing,” she said, borrowing the phrase Michelle had used to describe their mother’s signing.
“That’s what I thought! Your mother must like me even more than I realized. She described me perfectly, and she made me the hero of her book!”
A few minutes later, Hannah was back at work. She’d just served Stella Parks, who’d come to the launch party to congratulate them all on a job well done, when Carrie came rushing up. “Would you care for a cream puff?” Hannah asked her.
“I’d love one, but I’ve already had three.” Carrie stepped a little closer. “Do you have a minute, Hannah?”
Off they went to the rear of the library, and Hannah had a feeling she was about to experience déjà vu. She knew she was right when Carrie pulled a copy of A Match for Melissa from her purse.
“Just listen to this, Hannah,” she said, flipping it open and starting to read. “Her soft, well-modulated voice was as music to the ear, and her lovely features were a delight to the eye. Isn’t that just wonderful?”
“It’s amazing,” Hannah said, resorting to the phrase she’d used with Mike.
“I never dreamed your mother would make me the heroine of her book. I’m just too flattered for words! And she even describes the hairstyle I wore when I first moved to Lake Eden. Just listen…Her shining tresses were neatly confined in the twist she had fashioned at the nape of her long and shapely neck. I’m just so thrilled, Hannah!”
“Of course you are,” Hannah said, grateful that the two descriptions, either correctly or erroneously attributed to Lake Edenites had been complimentary. “I’d better get back to work, Carrie. We don’t want the author to get mad at us.”
The next request for a private conference came only a few minutes later. Before Hannah could find a convenient place to set down her tray, Mayor Bascomb had pulled her to the back of the library.
“You know, I always thought your mother didn’t like me,” he said. “But I was wrong, Hannah. Just listen to this…”
Hannah had all she could do not to groan as the mayor pulled a copy of her mother’s book from his pocket. He flipped to a page he’d marked with a square pink sticky from Marge Beeseman’s desk, and began to read.
“His deep eyes sparkled with humor and gleamed with a keen intelligence. Now tell me that isn’t me!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannah said quite truthfully.
“And how about this? As he ran his fingers through his hair, a lock eluded him and dropped low to his forehead, giving him a boyish attitude and reminding her of a joyful childhood spent with boisterous friends. Your mother nailed it, Hannah. That’s exactly what my childhood was like, and she knows it because she used to be my summer babysitter.”
“That’s just amazing,” Hannah said, and it was. It seemed three people thought Delores had written about them!
“Well, I’d better let you get back to work. I just wanted to tell you how pleased I am that Delores acknowledged me by making me the hero of her book. Do you think I should thank her?”
“No! I mean…” Hannah thought fast. If Mayor Bascomb mentioned it to Delores, she might deny it, and then there’d be trouble. “I think Mother would be embarrassed that you unraveled her little secret. And she’d probably say it wasn’t you, just to throw you off the track.”
Mayor Bascomb thought about that for a moment and then he nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I won’t say anything about it.”
During the next hour, no less than five people came up to Hannah to tell her they were the heroine or hero of A Match for Melissa. They all had their own reasons. Claire Rodgers told Hannah, a trifle hesitantly, that she thought she might be the heroine because of the way Delores had described the color of her gown.
“Listen to this, Hannah,” she’d said. “The sea-green color set off her sparkling eyes perfectly, and the vivid hue accentuated her flawless skin. I wore a dress just like that to church, and your mother asked me to describe the color. And then she said it went perfectly with my eyes and my skin.”
“Amazing,” Hannah had said, for the fourth time.
The next to corner Hannah had been Bonnie Surma. “Oh, Hannah!” Bonnie had said, smiling so widely Hannah wondered if the corners of her mouth might crack. “I think your mother modeled the heroine of her book after me!”
“Really?” Hannah had asked, wondering which phrase Bonnie would use to substantiate her claim.
“This is why I think so.” Bonnie had flipped to a page in the book. “Her comportment was so charming, all who encountered her smiled with delight. Your mother once told me that my manners were charming and some other members of our Regency Romance Club could take a lesson from me.”
Earl Flensburg had been the next one to approach Hannah. Once they were alone at the back of the library, he’d said, “Your mother made me the Duke of Oakwood, Hannah.”
“Really?” Hannah had asked, waiting for him to read the salient phrase to her.
“Just listen to this…It was at this moment that a gentleman on horseback appeared, riding neck-or-nothing toward the disastrous event that was about to occur. He leaned dangerously low in the saddle and snatched the young boy from the jaws of certain disaster.” Earl stopped reading and turned to her. “You see what I mean, Hannah?”
“You think Mother’s describing you,” Hannah had said, knowing that she was right.
“Of course. She must have remembered our senior class picnic. We held it out at Ehrenberg’s farm, and a couple of us brought our horses. I did a little trick riding for the girls.”
“Amazing,” Hannah had commented, wondering how many times she could listen to the same assumptions without laughing.
The last two candidates for starring roles in her mother’s romance were Al Percy and Cyril Murphy. Al thought The Duke of Oakwood was a fine figure of a man, dressed in exquisitely tailored clothing referred to him, since Delores had complimented him on the new suit he’d worn at the last church supper. Cyril had a different take on the end of the same paragraph Al had used. He thought that He leaned against the garden wall in a relaxed pose, presenting a handsome profile must refer to him since Delores had once said he had a very distinctive profile.
“Hannah?” her mother hailed her from across the room and Hannah hurried to the table Marge had set up for the book signing. There was a nice-looking, rail-thin, well-dressed woman standing at her mother’s side and Hannah was almost certain she’d never seen her before.
“Yes, Mother?” Hannah arrived a bit breathless.
“I’d like you to meet the woman who’s been such a great help to me.” Delores smiled up at the stranger, the stranger smiled back, and then Delores motioned Hannah closer. “This is Doctor Love,” she said in a whisper.
“Call me Nancy,” Doctor Love said, giving Hannah a friendly smile. “I’m here incognito.”
“Hi, Nancy,” Hannah said, smiling back.
“I came to get a copy of your mother’s book. I’ve only had time to page through it, but it looks marvelous and I do love a good romance. I plan to mention it on the air tomorrow if you’d like to listen.”
“That’s very kind of you!” Delores looked completely delighted.
“The world needs more romance and I’m eager to run home and delve into yours. Tell me, Delores. Are your characters based on real people?”
“Somewhat,” Delores said, “but not entirely.”
“Good answer!” Nancy reached out to pat Delores’s shoulder. “I’m willing to bet that most of the men in this room think they’re the hero, and most of the women think they’re the heroine.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said. “At least a half-dozen people have already pulled me aside to read me passages from Mother’s book and tell me they know they’re the main character.”
Nancy laughed. “Just as I thought! Keep your eyes open, Hannah. If you find a man who doesn’t think he’s the hero, grab him and give him a hug because he’s the only realist in the bunch!”
Another fifteen minutes passed and four more people pulled Hannah aside to tell her that they knew they were Melissa or the Duke of Oakwood and read her the appropriate passage to prove it. She was just about convinced that there wasn’t a realist in the room when Norman walked up.
“Hi, Norman.” Hannah held out her tray. “Would you care for a cream puff?”
“Not right now, thanks. I just wanted to catch you alone and tell you how good you look.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” Norman held up his copy of A Match for Melissa. “You know, this is a pretty good book.”
“Mother will be glad to hear that you think so,” Hannah said politely. And then she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think she modeled the Duke of Oakwood after you?”
“After me?” Norman looked absolutely astounded. “What are you talking about, Hannah? I’m not tall, dark, and handsome, I don’t ride well, and I’ve never had a whole line of women praying that I’ll ask them to dance. The Duke of Oakwood is about as far from my character as you can get.”
Hannah smiled in delight. If Doctor Love was right, Norman was the only realist in the room. But he was selling himself short and there was something she could do about that.
“Maybe that’s true,” she said, “but I’m almost sure that Mother modeled every single one of the duke’s good qualities after you.” And then she set down her tray and hugged him.