“Uh-oh,” Hannah said under her breath. They’d come to the crux of it now. “What color?” she asked, narrowing in on what she hoped would explain her brother-in-law’s atypical behavior.

“Raspberry.”

That set Hannah back a couple of paces. “And raspberry is

red?”

“It’s a little lighter than red.”

Ah-ha! Hannah experienced the sweet thrill of success. “Is it pink?”

“It’s not pure pink. It has some blue in it, you know?”

“Not really. Describe the color in more detail.”

“Well

it’s a little bluer than mauve, but much more subdued than cherry. It’s really just a shade or two lighter than burgundy.”

“I see,” Hannah said, doing her best not to chuckle. The shirt Bill had failed to pack was pink and that explained everything. There was no way Bill would wear a pink shirt to a law enforcement convention. With all that testosterone floating around, the chairs and tables were probably growing beards, and any sheriff in a pink shirt would be laughed right out of the hotel

especially if he said his wife bought it for him and he’d promised to think of her every time he wore it.

“What?” Andrea asked. “Are you choking?”

“Something must have gone down the wrong pipe. Just let me get a glass of water.” Hannah coughed again, doing her best to conceal her mirth as she headed for the sink to run water.

“Well?” Andrea asked, when Hannah came back to the table. “Do you see why I’m so upset?”

“Of course I do. But

there may be a very simple explanation. Has Bill ever worn that shirt?”

“No, not yet.”

“That’s it, then,” Hannah said, congratulating herself for saving Andrea’s marriage and getting her brother-in-law out of a pickle.

“What’s it? I don’t understand.”

“Bill didn’t want to wear it for the first time when you weren’t around, especially since he’d think of you and get lonely. It’s as clear as the nose on my face.” The nose on my face that’s growing longer by the second, her mind added, but Hannah ignored it.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Bill didn’t wear it because he’s saving it for a special occasion.”

“Well

I guess that makes some kind of sense,” Andrea conceded.

“You bet it does. And I’m also sure that when he gets home, Bill’s going to take you out to a fancy dinner and wear that shirt.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Hannah said, making a mental note to call Bill at his hotel in Florida and make sure he knew enough to do just that.

ALL-NIGHTER COOKIES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position