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Use your hands to roll the dough into walnut-sized balls. (If dough is too sticky, chill for an hour before rolling.)
Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl to make the dough-ball rolling mixture. (Mixing it with a fork works nicely.) Roll the dough balls in the mixture, then place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Flatten the dough balls with a greased or floured spatula.
Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10-15 minutes. (They should have a touch of gold around the edges.) Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove the cookies to a rack to finish cooling.
Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.
(Lisa loves these cookies—it's the only time I've seen her eat a half-dozen of anything at one sitting.)
126
Chapter Eleven
I didn't expect you this soon, Andrea." Claire looked sur-
JLprised as she opened the door of her dress shop and let them into the back room. The space wasn't very deep, only about six feet, but it ran the entire width of the building and was crowded with racks of clothing, unassembled Beau Monde dress boxes, Claire's small desk, and her ever-present ironing board and sewing machine. "I just left a message for you at home and it couldn't have been more than ten minutes ago. How did you get here so fast?"
"I was already next door. I retrieved your message from my cell phone, and since Hannah wanted to come over here anyway, I tagged along. I know you're not open yet. If I'm too early, I can always come back later."
"You're not too early. I'm just glad I pressed your maternity outfits first." Claire ran a hand over her sleek hair and looked slightly embarrassed. "I've been unpacking my new shipment and I planned to change my clothes before I opened."
Hannah let her sister say all the right things to ease Claire's embarrassment. She didn't think it was possible for Claire to look rumpled, even in the slacks and casual cotton blouse she was wearing. Andrea and Claire were two of a
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kind, the type of women who could wear gunnysacks with house slippers and still generate admiring glances.
"I love this color," Andrea said, reaching out to touch a lavender silk suit hanging on the rack of clothing that Claire had indicated. "Do you think it's too Easter-ish?"
Hannah set her bag of cookies by the coffeepot and tuned out as Claire and Andrea began to discuss colors and their association with various holidays and seasons. Fashion wasn't one of her interests. Instead, she mentally reviewed the questions she wanted to ask. Of course she'd find out about the pies, but Claire might have some other useful information. As Andrea was fond of saying, everybody who was anybody in Lake Eden bought designer clothes at Beau Monde. While the stores at the Tri-County Mall might be less expensive, Claire provided the personal touch that pampered women everywhere craved. Her customers often arrived in pairs and while they were trying on clothes, they gossiped. It was possible that Claire might have overheard something about Rhonda's private life.
"How about this, Hannah?" Andrea asked, holding up a maternity top.
"You're asking me a fashion question?" Hannah laughed.
"Second thought, I'll just try it on." Andrea exchanged a grin with her sister and then she turned to Claire. "If you don't mind, I'll try all of them on."
"I don't mind at all"
Claire gathered the hangers and led Andrea toward the dressing rooms, leaving Hannah to fend for herself. It wasn't for long. Claire was back before Hannah even had time to walk over to the racks to look at the new shipment.
"Your sister's all set," Claire said, heading toward the small coffee machine she kept next to the sink. "I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?"
"Sure," Hannah said, even though Claire's coffee was nothing to write home about. Conversation over coffee tended to be candid and invited confidences. "I brought you a half-dozen cookies."
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"Thanks, Hannah. What kind are they?"
"Chocolate Chip Crunch."
"Oh, good. I could use a pick-me-up. I've been pressing out wrinkles since eight. Take my desk chair and I'll get the coffee. How about one of your own cookies?"
"No, thanks."
Claire poured two cups of coffee while Hannah sat down. She carried one to the desk, set it neatly on a coaster, and then perched on a stool with her coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other. "You've lost weight."
"Do you think so?" Hannah felt a swell of pride. Claire studied everyone's appearance. If she thought Hannah had lost weight, it was probably true.
"I make it my business to notice things like that. If one of my ladies comes in and she's gained weight, I need to substitute a larger size without commenting on it."
"And you can tell that by just looking at her?"
"Of course. I have a very discerning eye."
Hannah was thoughtful. Claire's discerning eye might provide a way for her to avoid the dreaded scale. "Can you tell me how much weight I've lost?"
"I'd say about three pounds. Your face is thinner and I think you dropped a bit from your upper arms."
"Wonderful," Hannah said, disappointment setting in. She wasn't trying to lose weight on her face or her upper arms. It was her waist and her hips that concerned her.
"Andrea said you wanted to ask me something?"
"I do." Hannah relegated weight-loss thoughts to the back corner of her mind. "Lisa said you bought three lemon pies last Friday. I was wondering if Rhonda ended up with one of them."
Claire's eyes widened in surprise. "That's right! How did you know that?"
"Just a lucky guess."
"Are you working on Rhonda's murder investigation?"
"Yes. And I already told Mike, so it's no secret this time. Do you know anything personal about Rhonda that might have given someone a motive to kill her?"
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Claire sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. "I don't think so, but I did hear some rumors last year. Someone said that Rhonda had a boyfriend, but no one seemed to know anything about him."
"I've heard that. Any guesses?"
Claire shook her head. "No name was ever mentioned."
"Anything else about Rhonda's personal life?"
Claire thought for a moment and then she shrugged. "Not much. Most of my customers seemed to think that Rhonda was a little silly, wearing all that makeup, and dressing young, and flirting with every man who walked up to her cosmetic counter to buy perfume for his wife. But no one took it seriously and I don't think anyone ever harbored her any ill will."
"Okay. Let's get back to the pie. Did Rhonda give you the money and ask you to pick it up for her? Or did she just free-load one of yours?"
"She freeloaded one of mine," Claire said with a chuckle. "She came in here on Friday afternoon and bought some outfits for her trip. The pie boxes were stacked on my counter. She noticed them when I rang up her purchases."
"And she mentioned that lemon was her favorite so you almost had to give her one?"
"That's exactly how it happened. She spent over six hundred dollars and I figured the least I could do was give her a pie."
Hannah preened a bit. Her scenario had been correct. "I'm curious, Claire. What were you going to do with three pies anyway?"
The color began to rise in Claire's cheeks. She looked as guilty as a kid caught going through the lunch line twice. "If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?"
"Yes, if it doesn't have anything to do with Rhonda's murder."
"It doesn't. You heard that our church is trying to raise the money for new hymnals, didn't you?"
Hannah had heard about the hymnal fund the last time she'd catered a Redeemer Lutheran board meeting.
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"We had a meeting two Sundays ago to discuss fund-raising ideas. I suggested holding a weekly bake sale on Saturday mornings."
"I bet they roped you into organizing it," Hannah guessed, knowing how local church politics worked.
"You're right. They nominated me and I couldn't say no, since it was my idea in the first place. And of course I had to contribute something, but I don't bake."
"So you bought three of my pies to take to the bake sale?"
"Exactly. I repackaged the two I had left and I didn't exactly say I'd baked them, but I didn't say I hadn't, either. Do you think that's cheating?"
"Maybe technically, but it was for a good cause and I don't mind. How much did they sell for?"
"Ten dollars apiece. The bake sale was a huge success, Hannah. Bob was very impressed."
"Bob who?" Hannah asked. It was a fairly common name in Lake Eden, and she knew at least a dozen local Bobs.
"Reverend Knudson. He asked me to call him Bob."
Hannah watched the color come up on Claire's cheeks again and one possible explanation occurred to her. Claire had broken off her long-standing affair with Mayor Bascomb last winter. As far as Hannah knew, Claire hadn't dipped her toe into the dating pool again, but the pink rising in her cheeks was a dead giveaway. Unless Hannah missed her guess, something new was going on in Claire's love life. "Hold on a second, Claire. Are you dating Reverend Knudson?"
"Not exactly. But we're really good friends and I just adore his grandmother."
A tactless question popped into Hannah's mind and she asked it before she could stop herself. "But don't you find him boring after all that time with the mayor?"
"No, not at all. You wouldn't think Bob was boring if you knew him as well as I do. He has a wonderful sense of humor."
Hannah hoped she didn't look as dubious as she felt. Reverend Knudson's sermons about the wages of sin hadn't
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seemed the least bit humorous to her. Of course, the subject matter didn't leave a whole lot of room for jokes.
"Before you ask, Bob knows all about my affair with the mayor," Claire interrupted Hannah's thoughts. "I told him myself."
"What did he say?" Hannah held her breath. Reverend Knudson had never struck her as the liberal type.
"He said it wasn't important and I shouldn't worry about it."
Hannah blinked. "Reverend Knudson said an affair wasn't important?"
"That's right. He's not as strict and proper as you think he is, Hannah. Bob's really a lot of fun once you get him out of his clerical garb." Hannah's eyebrows shot up at that turn of phrase and Claire started to giggle. She sounded giddy, like a teenage girl, and her eyes sparkled with pure laughter. "I didn't mean it that way!"
Hannah and Claire were still laughing when Andrea appeared in the doorway, wearing one of the outfits. It was a dark green cotton dress with large gold sunflowers scattered over it. "I'm taking them all, Claire. And I'm wearing this."
"I'm so glad you like them." Claire looked pleased. "That dress is wonderful with your coloring."
"I think so, too. I'm helping Hannah with her catering this afternoon and I need to look my best." Andrea turned to Hannah. "Why don't you pick out something else to wear, Hannah? I'll even pay for it. Our greens clash."
Hannah felt herself climb firmly on the defensive. It was the old Queen-of-the-Hill battle they'd played countless times before. "You pick out something else. I was wearing my green first."
"But yours is at least two years old and mine is new. New takes precedence over old."
Hannah shook her head. "My green stays. The caterer takes precedence over the assistant."
The two sisters locked eyes, four orbs burning with equal
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intensity. But after a moment, what would have led to a pitched battle in the past suddenly dissolved into laughter.
"I'm sorry, Hannah," Andrea said through a volley of chuckles. "You're the caterer. You win."
"No, you're the one who's pregnant and facing your dragon of a mother-in-law. You win."
"Really?" Andrea's smile was as radiant as the sun after a sudden downpour. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, and you don't even have to buy me a new outfit. I'll just put it on my almost-maxed-out credit card."
Ten minutes later and eighty dollars poorer despite the huge discount Claire had given her, Hannah walked out of Claire's shop. She was wearing her new outfit and it was in her very favorite color, one she'd always despaired of being able to wear. It was a summer-weight skirt and jacket in an odd shade of red that miraculously failed to clash with her hair. Claire had chosen the outfit from her new shipment and it had been worth every penny Hannah had spent. She felt svelte and gorgeous.
"I'll drive to Rhonda's apartment building," Andrea said, hurrying to keep up with Hannah's longer stride as they walked across the parking lot toward the back door of The Cookie Jar. "You don't have a hook in the back of your truck and I want to hang my new outfits so they won't wrinkle."
"Okay." Haimah opened the door, walked through the kitchen, and stashed her old pantsuit in the small cubicle that the owner called a bathroom. "Let's go. I have to be back here by one-thirty."
"No problem." Andrea led the way through the coffee shop and out to her car. She opened her car doors with a click and slid under the wheel while Hannah got into the passenger's seat. "I thought you were going to give me a hard time about wanting to drive."
"Why would I do that?"