Thank you for doing such a good job of chronicling my life, and thanks again for writing about Candy. I’m just glad that we could solve the puzzle of her identity. Now I’ve got to run. Moishe is yowling for me to fill his food bowl, the phone is ringing off the hook (it’s probably Mother,) and I’m late for work at The Cookie Jar. You lived here long enough to know that time never slows down in Lake Eden, unless you happen to be on Old Lake Road stuck behind a snowplow.

Hannah Swensen

P.S. How about making me ten pounds thinner in the next book? I’d really appreciate it!

CANDY FOR CHRISTMAS

Joanne Fluke

Chapter One

“’Bye, Moishe.” Hannah Swensen tossed a few salmon-flavored treats that were shaped like little fish to her twenty-five-pound feline roommate. It was the same leave-taking ritual they’d gone through every morning for the past year, but on this particular morning, as she locked the condo door behind her and started down the covered stairs that led to the basement garage, Hannah had a startling thought. If the salmon-flavored treats were shaped like little fish, what shape were the liver-flavored treats? The only thing she could think of that was shaped like a liver was…somebody’s liver. And what shape was that, anyway?

Ten minutes later, Hannah was on the road, driving the familiar route to her shop in Lake Eden, Minnesota. The winter landscape at four-thirty in the morning was gorgeous. Her headlights sparkled on the freshly fallen snow and sent what looked like diamonds skittering across the road. The lazy flakes that fell from the sky served as a curtain, muffling sound until all she could hear was the soft rumbling of her motor and the rhythmic swish of her tires. There was no other traffic. Nothing else was moving in the bitter-cold Minnesota predawn. Hannah felt like the only woman left on earth, traveling smoothly into the night in a magical candy apple red coach with four-wheel drive that was filled with the aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate.

It would have been a perfect fantasy, except for one jarring note. The heater in Hannah’s truck was failing, and her teeth were chattering in a lengthy drum roll that would have been the envy of the rhythm section of the Jordan High marching band. As she had on every other morning this week, she promised herself that as soon as she got a little ahead, she’d have it fixed. In the meantime, her warmest parka and gloves would have to do.

Almost there, Hannah told herself as she stopped for the red light at the intersection of Old Lake Road and Carter Avenue. Old Lake Road was fairly busy at peak traffic hours, but Carter Avenue led to only one sprawling showplace home in the center of a private pine forest. That home belonged to Mayor Bascomb’s in-laws and everyone knew that he’d installed the stoplight to please his wife, Stephanie.