the large glass cookie jars behind the counter, and written the day’s cookies on the menu board, she’d also found time to decorate the shop for Christmas.
Definitely a partnership, Hannah thought, as she took in the clever pinecone-and-candy-cane centerpieces on each table, the miniature Christmas lights that framed the plate-glass window, the Christmas stockings that were tacked to the top of the wainscoting that ran around the walls, the wreath on the front door, and the Christmas tree that Lisa had set up in the corner, if I paid Lisa what she’s really worth, I’d be broke in no time flat.
Hannah walked over to the tree for a closer look and just shook her head. Lisa had outdone herself. The Christmas tree was perfect. It was decorated with miniature lights, a glittering tinsel garland, and ornaments that looked like real cookies.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Lisa stood in the doorway, a happy smile on her face. “I know I should have asked you first, but you’ve been so busy, I didn’t want to bother you. Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? Everything’s gorgeous, especially the tree. Are those cookie ornaments real?”
Lisa nodded. “I shellacked them. I followed the instructions in a craft book, and it said they should last for years.”
“I believe it.” Hannah chuckled as she touched one of the cookies. “They’re as hard as rocks.”
“Then you’re not upset that I just did it without asking?”
“I’m not upset, I’m impressed. The Cookie Jar’s never looked so good. Last year I just hung a string of lights, and that was it.” As Hannah gazed around her, she thought about Lisa’s abilities. Not only was she reliable and loyal, she baked like a dream, she was good with the customers, she could decorate cookies even better than Hannah could, and she’d decked out the shop for Christmas like a pro. It was time to make a move before someone else in Lake Eden discovered just how talented Lisa was. Hannah turned, walked over to Lisa and shook her hand. “Good work, partner.”
Lisa’s face was a study in contrasts. It was clear she hoped she’d heard Hannah right, but she was almost afraid to ask. Finally, she gulped and asked, “Partner?”
“Partner,” Hannah repeated it and smiled. “It’s the least I can do when you’re doing most of the work. I’ll work out the details with Howie Levine and have him draw up the papers before Christmas. There’s no way I’m going to chance losing you, Lisa.”
Lisa shook her head. “You won’t lose me. I love working here. You don’t have to make me a partner to keep me.”
“Bad move, Lisa.” Hannah couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “When someone offers you a partnership, you’re not supposed to try to talk them out of it. Just say ‘no thanks,’ or ‘I accept,’ and that’s all there is to it.”
Lisa nodded, and Hannah noticed that her eyes were shining. “You’re right, Hannah. I accept.”
* * *
After a quick phone call to Charlotte Roscoe, Jordan High’s secretary, Hannah headed for the school. She’d learned two things. Mike had called Charlotte and she’d faxed him a complete roster of The Gulls basketball team, and Craig Kimball was spending his first period, from eight-forty-five to nine-forty, in the library, where he would be studying for his midterm in English literature.
As she parked her truck in the section of the teachers’ parking lot that was reserved for visitors, Hannah remembered that she’d intended to bring her box of ingredients for tonight’s baking. She got out of her truck with a frown on her face. Why did she always remember things after the fact? She had the test sheet of Molasses Crackles that Lisa had baked. At least she’d remembered to take them. She’d give them to Craig to soften him up for her questions.
A yellow school bus was parked at the entrance as Hannah walked up. It was filled with elementary-school students, a teacher, and three parents. It was obviously a field trip of some type and as Hannah passed, several bus windows lowered and kids leaned out to wave at the Cookie Lady. Hannah waved back and hid the test batch of Molasses Crackles under her coat, wishing she had more cookies to give them.
The lobby of the school was quiet, and Hannah realized that classes must have started. It smelled the same as it always had, a combination of sweeping compound, warm bodies, and chalk. Hannah had always loved that smell. It meant that brains were at work. She walked down the hall past the principal’s office and waved at Charlotte, who had her nose deep in a filing cabinet and didn’t see her.
The library was in the same place it had always been, at the rear of the school and adjacent to the covered walkway that connected the high school to the elementary school. Hannah remembered walking from the elementary school to the high school when she was in fourth grade, clutching a note from her teacher, Miss Parry. The high-school library had been her favorite place, and Miss Parry had given Hannah permission to visit it every time her assignments had been completed early.
The main part of the library was exactly as Hannah remembered it. The only change was the computer lab that had been added after her graduation. She glanced at the long oak tables that were placed around the room and spotted Craig at a table near the stacks. He was alone, and Hannah thanked her lucky stars for that. At least she wouldn’t have to pull him away from his friends.
“Hi, Craig.” Hannah spoke softly, a habit the librarian, Mrs. Dodds, had instilled in her on her first visit. Mrs. Dodds had retired several years ago and Hannah had noticed that a very young-looking woman, surely too young to be a librarian, had taken her place behind the old curved desk at the front of the room. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” Craig looked surprised to see her, but he pulled out a chair for her.
Hannah sat, the smile still on her face. She’d start with a little flattery and go from there. “Congratulations on breaking the school single-game scoring record. I brought you a dozen Molasses Crackles.”
“Thanks, Miss Swensen.” Craig grinned as he reached out for the bag. “I didn’t know you came to our basketball games.”
“Every chance I get.” Hannah told a little white lie. She’d never been a big basketball fan, not even in high school, and the last basketball game she’d attended had been over a decade ago. “I need to talk to you about The Gulls, Craig.”
“Okay.” Craig placed a pencil in his book to hold the place and closed it.
Hannah managed to keep the smile on her face with difficulty. It was a good thing Mrs. Dodds had retired. She would have had heart palpitations if she’d seen Craig use a pencil for a bookmark. Her favorite phrase had been, A book is your friend, and you don’t break a friend’s back.
Craig looked at her expectantly. “I don’t mean to be rude, Miss Swensen, but I’ve only got a few minutes. I still have to study for a test.”
“English lit?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“I called Mrs. Roscoe to find out your class schedule, and she told me. What does your test cover?”
“Nineteenth-century English poets.” Craig made a face.
“Maybe I can help you cram for that test.” Hannah slid her chair closer “You hit my field, Craig. I was an English lit major in college.”
“You were?” Craig looked at her with new respect. “Do you know about… uh… Byron?”
“Lord Byron. His most famous poem was Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, and he limped all over the Lake District looking soulful while the girls chased after him.”
Craig’s eyebrows shot up. “Lord Byron limped?”
“Yes,” Hannah said. Perhaps she would have made a good teacher after all. “He was born with a deformed foot, but that didn’t turn anyone off. He couldn’t go anywhere without groupies following him.”
“So he was like a rock star?”
“As close as you could get in nineteenth-century England. He married very briefly, had a daughter, got divorced, and left the country. He caught a fever in Greece and died.”
“From a fever?”
“Yes. People died from things like the flu or a really bad cold back then. They didn’t have any of the medicines we have now.”
Craig was clearly surprised. His literature teacher had obviously failed to set the scene. “Not even aspirin?”
“Only in the form of willow bark. When people got sick, there wasn’t much a doctor could do. Either they got better on their own, or they died.”
