Lisa’s Note: Herb says these cookies are like potato chips. You can’t eat just one. They also hold up really well if you stick several in around the sides of a dish of vanilla or chocolate ice cream.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah had thought it was impossible, but the afternoon had flown by fast. When Michelle had arrived, they’d baked the rest of the Butterscotch Cookie Dough, had a quick cup of coffee, and baked some more. By the time they finished, they had over thirty dozen cookies to take to The Cookie Jar in the morning.
They were sitting on the couch, drinking tall glasses of lemonade when Hannah’s phone rang and she reached out to answer it. “Hello. This is Hannah.”
“Hi, Cookie.”
It was Ross and Hannah began to smile. “Hi, Ross.”
“I just called to tell you that I’m leaving the station now. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes, okay?”
Hannah glanced at the clock on the end table. It was only four in the afternoon. “That’s better than okay. That’s wonderful.”
Hannah knew that if she were a cat, she’d be purring as she said good-bye and hung up the phone. “Ross is on his way,” she told Michelle.
“Good. Is there anything we have to do before he gets here?”
“Yes. I have to put on my dark green sweater and brush my hair.”
“That’s not all,” Michelle said.
“What do you mean?”
“You have to wash your face. You’ve got flour on your nose and there might be some on your left cheek, too.”
It took only ten minutes to wash her face, get into her favorite sweater, and brush her hair. When Hannah returned to the living room, Michelle had switched on the television set and she was watching the Food Channel.
“Nothing about Chef Duquesne yet,” she reported.
“Good.” Hannah picked up her lemonade and took a sip.
“I’m going to run in and take a quick shower,” Michelle said, getting up and heading toward and guest bathroom.
Hannah did her best to relax. She felt a bit like a teenager going on her first date, experiencing a heady combination of nervous energy and extreme anticipation.
The next twenty minutes passed with the speed of a giant tortoise on tranquilizers, but at last there was a knock at her door. Moishe leaped down from her lap, Hannah leaped up from the couch, and both of them ran a foot race to the door. Hannah pulled it open, there were benefits in having opposable thumbs, and threw herself into Ross’s arms. But it wasn’t Ross!
“Mike!” she gasped. “Uh . . . sorry about that. I thought you were Ross. He’s due here any minute.”
“He’s right behind me. He parked in your extra spot. I just left my cruiser at the side of the road.” He gave her a big grin. “And you don’t have to be sorry about hugging me. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
For a moment, Hannah was speechless. “But . . .” she began to sputter.
“I know. You’re engaged. Don’t worry, Hannah. I’ll never tell.”
“You’ll never tell what?” Ross asked, coming up the outside staircase.
Mike laughed. “I’ll never tell you how Hannah thought I was you and threw herself in my arms.”
“That’s understandable,” Ross said, arriving at the landing and giving Hannah a hug. “We look so much alike.”
Hannah looked from Ross to Mike and then back to Ross again. Ross was a full four inches shorter than Mike, he had dark hair compared to Mike’s reddish blond, and he had a sophisticated, man-of-the-world look about him, while Mike looked rugged and capable of stopping a fleeing felon by tackling him and rendering him helpless in two seconds flat.
“You’re . . . you’re kidding . . . right?”
“Yes, Cookie. I’m kidding.” Ross turned to grin at Mike. “I guess we should have called her and told her that both of us were coming.”
“That would have been slightly helpful,” Hannah said, recovering her equilibrium. “It’s just that I didn’t expect to see Mike.” She turned to him. “I thought you’d still be out in Sally’s kitchen.”
Mike shook his head. “We cleared it hours ago and the contestants are practicing. The crime scene techs got there fast, and so did the photographer. I told them it was top priority and they were in and out in less than two hours.”
“Because of the Food Channel competition?”
“That’s part of it.”
Moishe made a soft sound of protest and Hannah looked down at him. He was sitting on his haunches staring up at Ross.
“Will you pick up Moishe, Ross. He’s looking up at you pathetically.”
Ross smiled and picked him up, scratching him behind the ears. “Come on, Mike,” he said as he stepped inside the condo. “You’ve already been greeted a little too well by Hannah.”
Mike laughed and followed Ross and Hannah inside. Hannah motioned toward the couch and asked them, “Drinks, anyone?”