Blueberry Muffin Murder. Joanne Fluke
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figure and she was extremely attractive. “Why does Janie need to lose weight? She looks great.”
Connie Mac turned to Hannah with a frown. It was clear she wasn’t used to being contradicted. “I realize that Janie is your friend, but facts are facts and she’s just too heavy. If my assistant is overweight, my viewers will assume that my recipes are fattening. That could reduce sales of my videos and cookbooks.”
Hannah was stunned speechless for a moment. She opened her mouth, prepared to give Connie Mac a well-deserved piece of her mind, when Norman grabbed her arm.
“Come on, Hannah,” he whispered. “Anything you say will only make it worse for Janie.”
Hannah didn’t like it, but she realized that Norman was right and she let him open the door and pull her through. “Goodnight, Janie,” she called out as Norman closed the door behind them.
“It’s a good thing we left,” Norman muttered, taking a deep breath of the freezing air. “I was ready to kill that woman!”
“You’re second in line behind me,” Hannah shot back.
“Because she made Janie rearrange your kitchen?”
“That’s only half of it. She implied that Janie was fat! You don’t think she is, do you?”
Norman shook his head. “Janie’s big, but she’s not fat. And she’d look great on camera. That excuse Connie Mac gave about how Janie could hurt her sales is a crock. Julia Child didn’t look thin on any of her cooking shows, and her cookbooks were bestsellers.”
“That’s right,” Hannah said, wishing she’d thought of that in time to tell Connie Mac. Then she remembered what Norman had said as they walked out the door, and she turned to him with a question. “You said you wanted to kill Connie Mac. What did she do to you?”
“What are you doing for the next eight hours? If I tell you everything, it’ll take all night.”
Hannah laughed. “Maybe you’d better give me the abbreviated version.”
“Connie Mac was an hour late for her appointment with me. Janie apologized, but Connie Mac didn’t say a word. And then Connie Mac ordered me to take her portrait in the dining room and I was all set up in the parlor.”
“So you had to move all your equipment?”
“Oh, yes. Six times. She kept changing her mind. And then, when we were finally finished and I’d already packed up all my camera gear, she decided she needed one more series of shots sitting behind the first mayor’s desk.”
Hannah frowned. Ezekiel’s desk was a valuable antique and Delores had secured the area around it with museum-style velvet ropes. “Mother didn’t let her do it, did she?”
“Of course she did. Connie Mac sweet-talked her right into it.”
“Really!” Hannah was surprised. She’d thought that Delores would be the one person in town that Connie Mac couldn’t sway. “So how long did this photo session take?”
“An hour and a half, and it seemed like months. By the time we finished, I was ready to bash her head in with one of Mrs. Jordan’s rolling pins.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t. It might have hurt the rolling pin.” Hannah smiled up at him and reached out to take his arm. Norman covered her gloved hand with his and they crunched through the snow together on the way to their cars.
“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Norman said, escorting her to the driver’s side of her truck. “I’ve missed you, Hannah.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“How about some dinner? We could drive out to the inn. At least we know she won’t be there.”
“True, but I’d probably fall asleep with my head in the soup,” Hannah said, stifling a yawn. Today had been a full day, and the strain of being pleasant to Connie Mac and baking ten times as many cookies as usual had taken its toll.
“Do you have another date?”
“No way. I’d really like to have dinner with you, Norman, but I’m just too tired. Can I take a rain check?”
“Sure, but you still have to eat. Do you want to stop by the Corner Tavern? That would be quicker.”
“Not tonight. I just want to go home and crawl into bed with a glass of wine and a toasted sardine sandwich.”
Norman made a face. “That doesn’t sound very nutritious.”
“It’s not as bad as you think. Sardines are protein, and I always use the ones in ketchup sauce. That takes care of the vegetable. And the buttered toast provides the fat and the carbohydrates. It’s a very well-balanced sandwich, if you think about it.”
“I’d rather not.” Norman unplugged her electrical cord, wound it around Hannah’s bumper, and opened the door of her truck for her. As she slid into the driver’s seat, he said, “Hannah?”
“Yes, Norman.”
“Let’s try to get together more often, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hannah said, reaching for her seat belt and buckling it.
“I was thinking about it last night and I realized that I was cutting off my nose to spite my face.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked.
“Whenever our mothers start trying to push us together, I rebel like a teenager.”
“So do I,” Hannah admitted. “Mother suggested that I call you today, and I didn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to call you, it was just that I didn’t want to give in to her.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Norman looked very serious. “I think we should stop letting our mothers influence our behavior. We’ll do what we really want to do, even if they suggest it first.”
Hannah nodded. “That’s a great idea, but there’s one drawback.”
“What’s that?”
“It requires that we act like adults.”
Norman chuckled. “Do you think that we can handle it?”
“Of course. The next time Mother suggests I call you, I’ll call you.”
“Good for you,” Norman said, looking pleased.
“And then, when Mother starts preening because I followed her advice, I’ll just stick my tongue out at her.”
“Why don’t you order something different, Andrea?” Hannah suggested, closing her menu and handing it back to the waitress. “You always have baked chicken.”
“I like baked chicken.”
“Whatever,” Hannah sighed. “At least try Sally’s cream of radish soup. It’s wonderful.”
Andrea shook her head. “I’m sticking with the Caesar salad. It’s perfect with baked chicken.”
Hannah shrugged and gave up the fight. She’d come out to the inn for dinner after all, but it hadn’t been her choice. The phone had been ringing as she unlocked the door to her condo, and it had been Andrea in an absolute panic. Could Hannah please have dinner with her? Janie had canceled, Bill had paged her to say he’d be late, and she’d been sitting at a table in the dining room all alone. After a few minutes of pleading, Hannah’s sisterly compassion had won out.
“They have excellent wine by the glass, Hannah.” Andrea interrupted her thoughts. “Would you like me to pick out a nice chardonnay for you?”
“No, thanks. I’m so tired, it would knock me right under the table.”
Andrea had the grace to look slightly guilty. “I probably shouldn’t have called you, but