Yield: 8 to 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Chapter Four

Perhaps a more imaginative person could have seen mythical figures in the irregular swatches of plaster on her bedroom ceiling, but Hannah wasn’t in the mood. She also wasn’t keen on counting sheep, reciting her times tables all the way through the dreaded sevens, or mentally cataloguing her cookie recipes. Her never-fail sleep aid, reading the statutes of the Winnetka County Health Board, hadn’t even made her eyelids heavy, and there was no way she was going to take any over-the-counter remedies when she had to get up in less than five hours.

Hannah switched on the light, causing her bedmate to blink and then stare at her with startled yellow eyes. She’d been tired when Norman had left, so tired that she’d barely been able to get ready for bed and climb under the covers. The pillow had been perfectly supportive, cradling her head just so, and the quilt had formed a warm and comforting cocoon. Moishe had purred softly beside her, actually letting her cuddle him close for ten seconds or so before he’d padded down to sleep on her feet, and the rhythmic whoosh of warm air from the heat vents had been positively soporific. Unfortunately, it had all gone downhill from there.

She’d started thinking about Candy and how frantic her family must be, and that had made her eyes open wide and her mind kick into high gear. She had to figure out where Candy came from, discover why she’d run away, and try to get her to go back home where she belonged.

There was no way she could sleep with a problem this weighty on her mind. Hannah put on her slippers and shrugged into her robe, knotting the sash around her waist. She always thought best when she was cooking, and since she was wide awake anyway, she might as well look for Ibby’s toffee recipe and make it tonight. She could take some to work tomorrow morning so Norman could taste it.

“Coming?” Hannah asked, turning to look at her feline roommate. But Moishe had commandeered her pillow the moment she’d left it and he was stretched out on top like a sphinx, his front paws aligned in front of him, his head held perfectly erect, and his expression regal.

“Guess not,” Hannah said, answering her own question as she walked out of the room.

To Hannah’s sleep-deprived eyes, the kitchen appeared glaringly bright with its white walls and appliances. She had the urge to fetch her sunglasses as she got out her box of recipes marked “TO TRY” in big red letters. She lifted the lid, frowned at the pieces of multicolored and mismatched paper that were stuffed haphazardly into the interior, and set it down on the kitchen table with a clunk. Then she put on the coffee, snatched the carafe aside, and stuck her mug directly under the stream of fresh coffee dripping through the grounds. When her mug was full, she completed her juggling act by removing her mug and replacing the carafe.