by Joanne Fluke
Hannah had no sooner changed into a comfortable lightweight lounge outfit when the doorbell rang. She opened it without remembering to check the peephole, something both Mike and Norman had warned her against, and smiled as she saw Norman standing there. He was holding a cat carrier and she reached out to take the package in his arms so that his load would be lighter.
“Hi, Norman,” she greeted him happily. Norman was the perfect dinner guest. Actually, he was the perfect everything. He’d asked her to marry him almost two years ago and she knew she’d never find anyone more loving and faithful. She loved him, she loved his cat. He loved her, he loved her cat. Norman would make a perfect husband. What was she waiting for?
“Rrrrrowww!” Moishe stood outside the cage impatiently when Norman set it down on the rug.
“Okay, big fella. Hold on a second and I’ll let her out.”
Norman unlatched the crate and Cuddles ran straight to Moishe and batted him with her paw. “And they’re off,” Norman said as the two cats ran down the hallway with Cuddles in the lead and Moishe chasing her. He held out his arms to give Hannah a hug. “Something smells fantastic,” he told her.
“Chicken Tetrazzini Hotdish and Easy Fruit Pie.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Norman gestured toward the bag she was holding. “Open it. It’s for you.”
Hannah opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of champagne. But it wasn’t just any bottle of champagne, and she gripped the bottle even tighter. “Dom Perignon,” she breathed, reading the label.
“I thought you might like it.”
“Like it? Like it? This is om Perignon. It’s even more expensive than the champagne Mother likes!”
“I know, but this is a split. It wasn’t as expensive as a whole bottle and it only holds two glasses.”
“Then you’re going to have some champagne with me?” The surprise was clear in Hannah’s voice. Norman didn’t drink and she knew the reason why he didn’t. Was tonight some kind of an exception?
“Not for me, thanks. I brought it for you.”
Hannah’s heart beat a little faster as something occurred to her. “Enough for two glasses, but you don’t drink. Are you trying to get me . . .” She paused, trying to come up with the right word, but settled for a euphemism that fell short of what she was intending. “Are you trying to get me compliant ?”
“Compliant?” Norman gave a short laugh. “That would be a lost cause! There isn’t enough champagne in the world to get you compliant. Just remember that the more champagne you drink, the sexier I look.”
Now it was Hannah’s turn to laugh and she did. It was the first good laugh she’d had since she’d visited Barbara at the hospital and it felt good.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Hannah.” Norman looked pleased. “But really, suit yourself. Drink it all, or don’t drink it all. That’s completely up to you. If you don’t want the second glass, that’s okay with me.”
Right. Sure. Hannah’s mind went into sarcasm mode. You brought me a bottle of one of the best champagnes in the world, champagne I’ve never tasted before and probably won’t ever get the chance to taste again. And you actually think I’m going to drink one glass and dump the rest down the garbage disposal?!
When Hannah looked over at Norman, she saw that he was grinning. Had he guessed she was having an internal dialogue with her mind? “You’ve got to be kidding about throwing part of this out.”
“You bet I am. Let’s enjoy the night, Hannah. I know I will. Both of us need to relax and have fun, now that we’re about to gear up for two more investigations.”
Hannah blinked in surprise. “I know you’re talking about Clayton Wallace. We have to prove his death was accidental so we can get that insurance money for his son. But you said two investigations.”
“Yes. We have to investigate Barbara’s fall.”
Hannah put two and two together and swallowed hard. “Then Barbara wasn’t imagining things when she said someone tried to kill her?”
“Doc and I don’t think so.”
“Then you believe she has a brother who surfaced for the party and pushed her off the roof?”
“No, I don’t believe the brother part of it. She’s clearly confused about that. But we do think someone attempted to kill her. Doc and I came up with a possible scenario, and I’ll tell you all about it after dinner. Right now I want to open this champagne for you.”
Norman took the bottle and opened the champagne while Hannah got an empty champagne glass for her and a tall glass of lemonade for him. She was about to go back into the kitchen for the appetizer tray that she’d prepared when Norman reached out to stop her. “Sit down, Hannah,” he invited, patting the couch next to him.
“Just let me get the cheese platter and then I will.”
“The cheese platter can wait. Try the champagne first. I want to see if you like it.”
“Of course I’ll like it,” Hannah said with a smile as she sat down beside him and accepted the glass. She took a sip and gave a blissful sigh. The champagne was every bit as good as its publicity. “Lovely,” she breathed. “Are you sure you . . .”
“No, thanks,” Norman interrupted her. “It’s all yours.”
Hannah took another sip and then she stood up again. “I’ll get that cheese platter now. This champagne will be perfect with the triple-cream Camembert.”
Once she’d returned with the appetizer tray and it was sitting between them on the coffee table, she turned to Norman. “Florence told me that the pears were just perfect today, and so were these flame grapes. They don’t have seeds. The dark brown crackers are pumpernickel flatbread, and the white ones are salted water crackers. And the cheeses are Danish Stilton with apricots, Wisconsin extra-sharp aged Cheddar, and triple-cream Camembert. . . .”
“Hold it, Hannah!” Norman interrupted her explanation, as he gazed in amazement at the huge appetizer tray. “Are you expecting an army?”
“No. I just got a little carried away when Florence told me about the cheeses. And the leftovers will keep. It’s just the two of us for dinner, Norman.”
The words had barely left Hannah’s lips when the phone rang. Both Hannah and Norman stared at it for a moment, and then their eyes met in total disbelief. “Do you think I should . . . ?” Hannah began.
“Answer it,” Norman said with a sigh. “If we’re lucky, it’s a telemarketer and you can hang up right away.”
Hannah reached for the phone as gingerly as if it were resting on the head of a hibernating bear. “Hello?” she asked in a tentative voice.
“Hi, Hannah! It’s Mike.”
“Hi, Mike.” Hannah put her hand over the receiver and whispered, It’s Mike, to Norman, quite unnecessarily.
“I just pulled into your complex. Is it okay if I come over? I want to find out what happened when you visited Barbara.”
Hannah covered the receiver again. He wants to come over, she whispered.
Norman didn’t say a thing. He just held out his hand for the phone. Hannah handed it over gratefully and listened as the two rivals for her affections conversed.
“It’s Norman. Go ahead and come up.” He turned to pantomime eating to Hannah and pointed to the phone. When Hannah nodded, he continued. “Hannah just fixed dinner and there’s plenty for three.”
There was a pause while Mike talked and Hannah assumed he was saying something about not wanting to intrude on their evening. Mike could be polite if he wanted to be.
“That’s okay, Mike,” Norman said, turning to give Hannah an apologetic look. “I’ve got something I need to tell you anyway.”
This time the response was quicker. Hannah figured that Mike had asked Norman what that was.
“It’s about Barbara, but I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Come on up, eat dinner, and then we’ll talk about it, okay?”
Hannah frowned. It seemed that whatever information Norman had been planning to give her after dinner was now going to be shared with Mike. So much for exclusivity.
“But you were going to tell me first?”
“That’s right. I was.”
It was a drop in the bucket, a smidgen, a crumb. But Norman was smiling warmly and for some strange reason, it was enough. Hannah smiled back and that warm-all-over feeling kept her toasty until the doorbell rang to announce Mike’s arrival.
EASY FRUIT PIE
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
Note from Delores: I got this recipe from Jenny Hester, a new nurse at Doc Knight’s hospital. Jenny just told me that her great-grandmother used to make it whenever the family came over for Sunday dinner. Hannah said it’s easy so I might actually try to make it some night for Doc.
¼ cup salted butter (½ stick, 2 ounces, pound)
1 cup whole milk
1 cup white (granulated) sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup
when you measure it)
1 and ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 can fruit pie filling (approximately 21 ounces by
weight—3 to 3 and ½ cups, the kind that makes
an 8-inch pie)
Hannah’s 1st Note: This isn’t really a pie, and it isn’t really a cake even though you make it in a cake pan. It’s almost like a cobbler, but not quite. I have the recipe filed under “Dessert”. You can use any canned fruit pie filling you like. I might not bake it for company with blueberry pie filling. It tasted great, but didn’t look all that appetizing. If you love blueberry and want to try it, it might work to cover the top with sweetened whipped cream or Cool Whip before you serve it.
I’ve tried this recipe with raspberry and peach . . . so far. I have the feeling that lemon pie filling would be yummy, but I haven’t gotten around to trying it yet. Maybe I’ll try it some night when Mike comes over after work. Even if it doesn’t turn out that well, he’ll eat it.
Place the butter in a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan and put it in the oven to melt. Meanwhile . . .
Mix the milk, sugar, flour, baking powder and salt together in a medium-size bowl. This batter will be a little lumpy and that’s okay. Just like brownie batter, don’t overmix it.
Using oven mitts or potholders, remove the pan with the melted butter from the oven. Pour in the batter and tip the pan around to cover the whole bottom. Then set it on a cold stove burner.
Spoon the pie filling over the stop of the batter, but DO NOT MIX IN. Just spoon it on as evenly as you can. (The batter will puff up around it in the oven and look gorgeous!)
Bake the dessert at 375 degrees F., for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until it turns golden brown and bubbly on top.
To serve, cool slightly, dish into bowls, and top with sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. It really is yummy.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: The dessert is best when it’s baked, cooled slightly, and served right away. Alternatively you can bake it earlier, cut pieces to put in microwave-safe bowls, and reheat it in the microwave before you put on the ice cream or sweetened whipped cream.
Yield: Easy Fruit Pie will serve 6 if you don’t invite Mike and Norman for dinner.
Note from Jenny: I’ve made this by adding ¼ cup cocoa powder and 1 teaspoon of vanilla to the batter. If I do this, I spoon a can of cherry pie filling over the top.
Chapter Eight
“What would you like to drink, Mike?” Hannah held her breath as she waited for his answer. She really didn’t want to share the exquisite champagne Norman had given her, but she was a good hostess.
“That lemonade Norman has looks good. Do you have any more?”
“I sure do. I’ll get you a glass and be right back.”
Hannah was smiling as she went off to the kitchen. She felt a slight bit guilty for not telling Mike about the special champagne that Norman had brought, but she told herself that since he hadn’t asked for a bottle of his favorite beer when he knew she always had some in her refrigerator, that probably meant he was going back in to work and didn’t want to drink anything alcoholic. And that meant he would have refused the champagne even if she had offered it.
Rationalization, her mind chided her, but she ignored it as she filled a glass with ice and poured pink lemonade for Mike. She gave the timer a quick glance as she passed by on her way to the living room. Twenty minutes to go before the dessert came out of the oven. It should cool for at least ten minutes, so they would have a full half-hour to enjoy their salad, hotdish, and garlic bread.
“What did you have to tell me?” Mike asked Norman as Hannah set down his lemonade.
“Nothing until after dinner. I’m hungry.”
“That’s fine with me. I’m hungry and that hotdish smells great.”
Mike turned to give Hannah one of his devilishly handsome grins as she set his favorite hot sauce on the table. He’d once told her that her hair was exactly the same color as Slap Ya Mama hot sauce, and she still wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
Hannah took a deep breath and did her best not to react to the grin that always made her a bit weak in the knees. She was Norman’s date for the evening, not his. But even though her mind was clear on her priorities, she still felt a rush of tingly sensation that ran all the way down to her toes. She busied herself dishing up the salad in the hope that it would distract her, but she still felt tingly as she ladled out the hotdish, passed the freshly grated parmesan cheese, and made sure both men had a piece of garlic bread.
“It’s a feast,” Mike said, grinning at her again. Hannah felt a second rush of sensation, but that ended quite abruptly when Mike reached for the bottle of hot sauce and shook it on without even tasting his hotdish first. Too bad you didn’t use jalapenos instead of green chilies, her mind commented and this time Hannah didn’t argue back. No internal dialogue was needed. She agreed perfectly.
Midway through the meal, the timer sounded and Hannah got up to take the Easy Fruit Pie out of the oven. She was just about to return to the living room when she heard Norman respond to something Mike had said.
“No way, Mike.” Norman sounded very emphatic. “Remember the time we were discussing a case at the table and how angry Hannah got at us?”
There was a moment of silence. Mike was obviously attempting to remember. “Oh, yeah. I remember now. It was something about how many pounds of pressure it would take to break a tooth. Hannah got pretty hot about that one.”
“Which is why we should wait for that kind of discussion until after dinner.”
“Right. If we talk about it now, she might not give us dessert. I could use something sweet after this meal. Boy, that hotdish was spicy!”
That’s because you used half a bottle of hot sauce on it, Hannah’s mind answered him. Maybe it’ll teach you to taste it first to see if it needs more spice.
Hannah was smiling as she carried in the dessert. Some people added salt without tasting and then complained because it was too salty. Mike did the same thing with hot sauce. Nothing would change him. He’d once told her that his father had done the same thing, and Hannah figured it must be a combination of both environment and genetics.
“Do you want some hot sauce, Mike?” Hannah asked him, smiling wickedly.
“On dessert? Are you kidding?!”
Mike looked shocked and Hannah laughed. “Of course I am. Unless, of course, we’re talking about those Jalapeno Brownies I made for you.”
“Oh, man! Those were so good!” Mike smacked his lips. “Do you suppose maybe this dessert would . . . ?”
“No!” Hannah cut off the question she knew was coming.
“There’s no chocolate in here so it wouldn’t be the same thing.” She paused for a second, glanced down the hallway, and warned, “Feet up!”
Both men were old hands at this game. They plucked their dessert dishes and coffee cups off the table almost simultaneously, and tucked t
heir feet up just as the cats appeared. Hannah was a second late, but she managed to secure the coffee carafe and her own dessert dish in the nick of time.
Two rings around the table and the cats disappeared down the hallway again. Hannah heard a thud followed by a yowl and she knew that Moishe hadn’t managed to avoid the laundry hamper in her bedroom. There was a thump and a squeak of springs, and then another thump and a louder squeak of springs, as Cuddles and then Moishe landed on her mattress.
“You need a new innerspring,” Norman said.
“I know. I just haven’t gotten around to buying one yet. Actually, I need a whole new bed.”
“Get one of those airbeds,” Mike suggested. “They’re supposed to be really comfortable.”
Hannah looked at him in disbelief. “An air bed? With a cat?”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Mike set his coffee cup back on the table and lowered his feet. “They’re on the bed now. We ought to be safe.”
Norman shook his head. “Better give it a minute or two. Cuddles was really wound up. Her eyes had that crazed kitty look.”
“But Moishe looked a little tired,” Mike said. “He might not want to chase her again.”
“That won’t stop Cuddles,” Hannah explained. “She’s an expert at getting him to chase her. I figure we’ve got about another ten, maybe fifteen seconds before . . . Feet up!”