by Joanne Fluke
“Okay. Let’s go then.” Michelle opened the passenger door.
“Wait. Do you think I could get out of it if I sneaked into the kitchen and hid in the pantry?”
Michelle shook her head. “Not a chance. Mother would sniff you out. I tried hiding in my closet when I was a kid. Mother found me and spanked me. Just go over to Claire’s and do it.”
“That was Lisa’s advice,” Hannah said, accepting her fate as she got out of her cookie truck and shut the door behind her.
Hannah hesitated at the door to Claire’s shop. She hated to try on dresses. There was something about standing in a little dressing room, even though Claire’s dressing rooms were beautifully decorated and roomier than most, facing your worst figure faults in the mirror, and garbing your body in unfamiliar garments that could make you look more unattractive than you had before you put them on. She was still trying to think of some excuse, any excuse short of death, to save herself from the ordeal when she remembered what Lisa had told her about Stephanie Bascomb’s new outfits and where she’d purchased them.
“Come on, Michelle!” Hannah urged her sister, yanking the door open and practically running inside.
Michelle grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Hold on a minute. Tell me what changed your mind so fast. Just a second or two ago, you were heading for Claire’s shop with the speed of an arthritic garden snail, and now you’re acting like you can’t wait to get inside.”
“Murder changed my mind,” Hannah said, leading the way to the inner door that opened into the dress shop itself. “I just remembered something Lisa told me on the phone. She said that Stephanie Bascomb is next door in the coffee shop, wearing an expensive new outfit she got right here from Claire. And Lisa also said that the outfit Stephanie was wearing wasn’t the only one she’d bought over here.”
“So you’re going to see what Stephanie told Claire about the mayor’s new affair?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then you won’t mind trying on wedding gowns?”
“I didn’t say that, but I’ll trade a half hour of my time, even if it means trying on new clothes, for information that’ll help me solve a murder case!”
Five minutes later, after greeting her mother and Andrea, Hannah was sitting on a gold velvet settee, waiting for her torment to start. She’d accepted the offer of a cup of tea that she probably wouldn’t drink, and followed Claire to the largest dressing room. Now she was waiting for Claire to return with the selections that had been chosen specifically for her.
Hannah picked up the tea, took a sip, and stared at her archenemy, the tall three-way mirror that showcased her less than perfect figure from many more angles than she wished to view.
“Here we are,” Claire called out cheerily, opening the door and hanging a half-dozen garments on the ornate hooks that protruded from the opposite wall. “I’ll be right back.”
Hannah gazed at the creation on the nearest hook and groaned softly. It was gorgeous, a fairytale wedding gown that was festooned with tiny pearls and expensive and intricate lace. Hannah had no doubt that it had been featured on the cover of Vogue or Brides magazine.
“I know,” Claire said, catching Hannah’s shocked expression as she came back with another armload of gowns. “I told your mother that you couldn’t wear that gown, but . . .” Claire paused as Hannah burst into laughter. “What did I say that’s so funny?”
“You said you told my mother,” Hannah repeated. “You know better than that, Claire.”
Claire smiled and looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes, I do know better. Nobody can tell your mother anything when it comes to fashion.”
“Exactly. I’ll try it on first. That’ll prove to her that you were right.”
“Do you need help with all those tiny buttons?” Claire asked, moving the gown to a closer hook.
“Probably, but there’s something I’d like you to do for me first.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to find my other glass slipper.”
Claire burst into laughter. “You’re right, Hannah. It does look like the gown Cinderella wore. Do you think your mother will admit that this gown is all wrong for you?”
“Never. But she might say that I’m all wrong for this gown.”
Claire and Hannah shared conspiratorial smiles and then Claire left the dressing room, closing the door behind her. “Just call me when you’re ready to button,” she called out, her voice muffled through the door. “I’ll be right here.”
The moment Hannah took the wedding gown off the hanger, she knew she was in trouble. The skirt had so many layers of net between the silk underskirt and the lace and pearl overskirt that it could stand up on the dressing room floor by itself. There didn’t seem to be any way she could pick it up and get it over her head by herself unless . . .
Hannah sighed as she eyed the gold velvet settee. She might be able to get into the skirt if she climbed up on the cushions and launched herself into the middle of it. But what if she missed? She might rip this obviously expensive dress.
“No,” Hannah said aloud. The gown was probably worth more than she made at The Cookie Jar in a year, and there was no way she could afford to buy it if she damaged it. Actually, she couldn’t afford to buy it anyway. She was only trying it on to prove that Delores had been wrong. Would her mother pay for an expensive, damaged wedding gown? Hannah thought about that for a moment. Yes, Delores might pay for it, but Hannah would never hear the end of it. There was no way she could take a risk like that! She hated to ask for help, but there was no other recourse.
“Claire? I can’t do this by myself.”
“I didn’t think you could.” Claire came in a split second later with a smile. “You need a dresser for this gown. Just stand over here by the settee and I’ll slip it on over your head.”
Hannah stood where Claire indicated, and Claire climbed up on the cushion with the dress and dropped it over Hannah’s head. The dress whispered down past Hannah’s upwardly stretched arms, and the silk lining slithered down into place. “Wow!” Hannah said, as the dress settled around her waist.
“It usually takes two dressers, but I’ve carried wedding gowns from day one, and I’ve gotten pretty good at doing it solo.”
“You certainly have! How in the world does a bride get into a dress like this?”
“First of all, she doesn’t get dressed in her bridal finery until she gets to the dressing room in the church.”
“But why?”
“Because you can’t get a skirt like this into a limo without crushing it. If a bride buys a dress from me, I warn her that at least two bridesmaids have to volunteer to help her dress. And then I teach the bridesmaids how to do it.”
“It’s not very comfortable,” Hannah commented as Claire jumped down from the settee and began to button up the back of the gown.
“I know. Most brides who buy an elaborate gown like this don’t care that much about comfort. They just want to look perfect for the wedding photos. Take a look, Hannah.” Claire gestured toward the mirror. “You look really good, but it’s definitely not your style.”
“You’re right. And with all this white lace, I could go snow blind. Let’s go show this off and see what Mother says. And then let’s get me out of it!”
In less time than it takes to eat a cookie, Hannah was back in the dressing room. “I told you,” she said as Claire unbuttoned the dress.
“Yes, you did, and you nailed it. I thought I’d lose it when your mother said you weren’t right for the dress.” Claire unfastened the last button and tapped Hannah on the shoulder. “Raise your arms. I’m going to climb up and pull it right off.”
Several moments later, the deed was done and Hannah gave a sigh of relief as Claire hung the gown back on its hanger. It was time to introduce a subject that was much more important than a wedding gown. “Lisa said that Stephanie Bascomb showed up next door in a new outfit. Do you know why she bought a new outfit?”
“A new wardrobe,”
Claire corrected her. “And yes, I can make an educated guess, especially since the mayor’s newest girlfriend also has several new outfits.”
“Stephanie made infidelity pay?”
“You could say that. And so did the mayor’s newest girlfriend. He stopped by with his credit card this morning and told me to give Stephanie anything she wanted. And let me tell you, she wanted a lot!”
“Has this girlfriend been in here yet?”
“Not yet. He told me to keep his credit card because someone would be stopping in later on this afternoon. I’m supposed to make sure she gets a very nice good-bye gift.”
“They broke up?”
“It sounded that way to me. Or if they didn’t break up quite yet, he was planning to cut her loose really soon. Thanks to the mayor, this is going to be a big-ticket day for me.”
“Will you tell me who it is when the mayor’s new girlfriend comes in?”
“You don’t have to wait that long. I already know who it is because he told me her name.” Claire stopped speaking and started to smile. “To paraphrase your mother, listen carefully because I never repeat gossip.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s one of your fellow contestants, Gloria Berkeley. And her spending limit is a thousand dollars, but you didn’t hear that from me, either.” Claire paused and took a deep breath. “That’s enough about our philandering mayor. Let’s talk about something more pleasant. At least we have the Cinderella dress out of the way. Would you like to end your shopping ordeal early?”
“Of course I would! You know how I hate to try on clothing.”
“Then we’ll bring out the best I have and knock their socks off with it.”
Hannah watched as Claire placed one of the hangers on the first hook. “This is it,” Claire said. “This is the one I think you should wear. Put on the long skirt, the shell top, and the tunic jacket that matches the skirt.”
“Okay, but . . .”
“Just do it. We left them with a disappointing taste in their mouths. Now we’re going to show them what Hannah Swensen should look like on her wedding day.”
“Are you sure that we can . . . ?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong, Hannah?” Claire interrupted her.
“No, you never have. I’ll do whatever you say I should do. And I’ll send two dozen Lunchbox Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies over to you if you’re right.”
“It’s a deal. Bob loves those cookies and so does Grandma Knudson.”
The moment Claire had left the dressing room, Hannah reached for the hanger. This was the wedding dress that Claire had liked the best, a lovely cream-colored satin brocade with a raised design of lilacs in shades of green, violet, and a pink so pale, it gave new meaning to the term pastel. The barely visible colors and the sheen of the material created a palette that changed almost imperceptively with the light.
“Gorgeous!” Hannah breathed, slipping the top over her head and pulling it down. It was long, almost as long as her favorite tunic top. Then she reached out for the skirt and stared in confusion at the garments on the multiple hangers that had been nestled beneath the top she had donned.
“Hannah? Do you need help?” Claire opened the dressing room door a crack so that she could be heard clearly.
“Come in, Claire.” Hannah walked over to open the door all the way and then she turned to gesture toward the other garments on the nestled hangers. “What is all this, anyway?”
“It’s what the designer calls a wardrobe.”
“Great, but what does that mean?”
“I’ll show you.” Claire walked over to the hanger and removed the first garment. “This is the skirt. It’s floor length and it goes with that long shell top you’re wearing. The designer calls this his evening dress. Put it on, Hannah. And then slip into this jacket. It’s long enough to go over the tunic top.”
Hannah did as Claire instructed and then she glanced in the mirror. What she saw made her smile. “I really like this, Claire!”
“And so will they, especially if you thank your mother for choosing such a marvelous outfit for you.”
“Mother chose this?”
“Of course not, but she’ll never admit she didn’t. Come on, Hannah. Let’s go show them.”
Hannah’s knees were shaking slightly as they headed for the alcove where her family was waiting. Claire was absolutely right. She really wanted to wear this outfit for her wedding.
“Oh my!” Delores said, when Hannah approached. “That’s gorgeous, dear!”
“It’s perfect for the wedding,” Michelle agreed, “especially since you love lilacs and we found a place with out-of-season lilacs for the wedding.”
Andrea nodded. “You’re right. It’s perfect.”
Hannah remembered Claire’s advice just in time. “Thank you so much for choosing it, Mother. I absolutely love it!”
“You’re welcome, dear,” Delores said, never missing a beat. “I just knew it would be perfect for your wedding dress.” She turned to smile at Claire. “You always have the best, Claire.”
“Thank you,” Claire responded graciously, studiously avoiding Hannah’s eyes.
Delores turned to Andrea. “I just wish that you hadn’t spilled red wine on my mother’s wedding dress. I’m sure Hannah would have wanted to wear it.”
Andrea put on her most contrite look. “I’m sorry, Mother. You know that I didn’t do it. I don’t drink red wine. It was Bill, and I couldn’t get too angry at the man I was about to marry.”
“I know, dear.” Delores reached out to pat Andrea’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault. And you did take it straight to the cleaners. Actually . . . I’m glad they went out of business. They should have known how to remove a stain from red wine.”
Hannah judiciously avoided Andrea’s eyes. The red wine stain had been no accident. Andrea had admitted everything to her. Hannah was grateful to her sister, and she was sure that Michelle was, too. Perhaps she ought to team up with Michelle and make Andrea a special treat for saving them from family wedding gowns.
“We won’t worry about that now,” Delores said with a smile for Andrea. “It’s water under the bridge, dear, and it probably wouldn’t have fit Hannah anyway. My mother was petite, like you and Michelle. Hannah takes after your father’s side and Grandmother Swensen . . .” She stopped and gave a little sigh. “They didn’t have any money, you know. She probably made her wedding dress herself out of flour sacks and it fell apart years ago.”
Hannah bristled slightly. She knew that, unlike her mother’s family, her father’s parents had lived on a tight budget. That hadn’t mattered to her, or to Andrea, or to Michelle. All three of them had always loved their Swensen grandparents best.
Delores turned to Claire. “And now, our esteemed clothing adviser, we have to shop for Hannah’s trousseau.”
Claire smiled. “Actually, you don’t. Just hold that thought and wait here. Hannah has several more outfits to show you.”
Hannah waited until they got to the dressing room and the door was closed behind them. And then she turned to Claire with a frown. “What trousseau? I thought you said we’d be through if Mother liked this dress for the wedding.”
“We are through.” Claire reached down and flipped up the hem on the skirt that Hannah was wearing. Then she unzipped the bottom panel, helped Hannah out of her jacket, turned it inside out, and motioned for her to put it on again.”
“It’s reversible?” Hannah asked, even though she could clearly see that it was.
“That’s the whole point of this ensemble. Take a look.”
Hannah looked at her reflection in the mirror and she smiled. “Perfect,” she said, realizing that now the jacket was the same green as the shell and the lilac leaves in the shortened skirt.
“We also have these.” Claire held up a pair of green pants. “That’s in case you’d rather wear a pantsuit. And then we have a lavender shell that goes with the patterned jacket and cream-colored pants. There are pants in pink and a p
ink tunic top, and another lavender jacket. If you count the variables, you have a whole wardrobe here, Hannah. And that’s why the designer calls it his wardrobe.”
LUNCHBOX CRANBERRY OATMEAL COOKIES
(Big, soft, chewy cookies)
Do NOT preheat oven yet—this cookie dough needs to chill.
Hannah’s 1st Note: Lisa and I use our stand mixer down at The Cookie Jar to mix up these cookies.
Lisa’s Note: The reason we called these cookies Lunchbox Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies is that Herb just loves to take a couple of these to work in his lunchbox and eat them when he’s driving around town in his cruiser, looking for parking violators.
1 and ½ cups Craisins (I used regular unflavored Craisins, but any dried sweetened cranberries will work)
1 cup cranberry juice
1 and ¼ cups white (granulated) sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 and ½ teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon nutmeg (freshly grated is best)
1 teaspoon orange zest (that’s just the colored part of the orange rind)
1 cup white Karo syrup
2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)
1 cup (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound) salted butter, melted
2 Tablespoons ( cup) reserved cranberry juice from the cup of cranberry juice above
4 cups quick-cooking oatmeal (dry, right out of the package—I used Quaker’s Quick-1 Minute)
4 cups all-purpose flour (don’t sift, but don’t pack it down either—scoop it out with your measuring cup and level it off with a table knife)
1 cup chopped nuts (I used walnuts)
—————
approximately ½ cup white (granulated) sugar for rolling the dough balls
Put the Craisins (or other brand dried, sweetened cranberries) in a microwave-safe bowl.
Pour the cup of cranberry juice over the top of the Craisins.
Heat the bowl in a microwave on HIGH for 90 seconds. Leave it in the microwave for 1 minute and then stir.