Contents (62)
- Outstanding praise for Joanne Fluke’s delectable Hannah Swensen mysteries!
- Books by Joanne Fluke
- CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER
- Joanne Fluke
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Regency Ginger Crisps
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Pecan Chews
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Black and Whites
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chocolate-Covered Cherry Delights
- Chapter Twenty
- Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Epilogue
- Lovely Lemon Bar Cookies
- Index of Cookie Recipes
- Chapter One
- BROWN SUGAR DROPS
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- MERRY BERRY COOKIES
- Chapter Four
- IBBY’S METAPHYSICAL ENGLISH TOFFEE
- Chapter Five
- BUTTER-SCOTCHIES
- Chapter Six
- CANDY CANE COOKIES
- CHOCOLATE PECAN ROLL
- Chapter Seven
- CHOCOLATE MINT SOFTIES
- Chapter Eight
- FUDGE-AROONS
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- THREE-WAY FUDGE
- Index of Recipes
- Baking Conversion Chart
“That’s…great,” Hannah said. She wasn’t sure she liked the early date-warning system, but it was probably unavoidable since Bill was working with Mike.
“Anyway, if there’s nothing else, I’ve got to get to bed. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
“You’re getting up early?” Hannah hoped she didn’t sound as shocked as she felt. Andrea set her own hours at Lake Eden Realty. She usually slept until nine or so and then took another hour to get ready for work. Since most people didn’t go out house hunting until noon or later, that worked out just fine.
“I’ve got a showing at one,” Andrea explained. “And that means I have to get up at seven.”
“It takes you six hours to get ready for a showing?”
“Of course not! It’s just that tomorrow afternoon is the Dorcas Circle Luncheon and the Cut ’n Curl is booked solid. The only time Bertie can squeeze me in is at eight in the morning. And that reminds me…”
“I’ll be glad to,” Hannah interrupted, knowing exactly what her sister was going to ask. “Just bring Tracey in before you go to Bertie’s, and I’ll make sure she gets to Kiddie Korner on time.”
“Thanks, Hannah. You’re a doll, you know that?”
“I know. That’s why Mike wants to take me out again.”
“Actually…that’s not why,” Andrea said, taking Hannah literally. “He told Bill you were the funniest woman he’d ever met.”
Hannah tried to think of something to say, but it was difficult. She wasn’t sure if being funny was more important than being a doll. She also wasn’t sure if what Mike had said was a compliment or not. After all, clowns were funny, but you wouldn’t necessarily want to date one.
The timer dinged, saving her from analyzing the problem further, and Hannah pulled her pan of toffee off the heat. “I’ve got to go. My toffee needs me. I’ll see you in the morning, Andrea.”
Pouring the hot candy mixture over the crackers wasn’t difficult and neither was slipping the pan into the oven. Hannah set the timer for ten minutes and sat down at the kitchen table to wait. If the toffee turned out well, she’d drop some off for Bill on her way in to work tomorrow morning. He’d probably ask her to join him for some perfectly dreadful squad room brew that resembled coffee about as much as a tractor resembled a high-performance sports car, but it would give her a chance to ask him some theoretical questions about police procedure and runaways.
When the timer rang again, Hannah took the pan out of the oven and sprinkled on the milk chocolate chips. She waited until the chips started to melt, and then she spread them out with her spatula. Once she’d scattered chopped pecans over the top and put the pan in the refrigerator, she cleaned up the kitchen and headed off to bed for a second attempt at sleep.
Just as she’d expected, Moishe was still spread out on her pillow. Hannah climbed into bed on the other side and grabbed Moishe’s pillow. It was foam and she hated foam pillows. Not only that; it was lumpy foam that was starting to crumble and smell. It was almost worse than no pillow at all, but she was simply too tired to get into a turf war with her cat over the expensive goose-down pillow she’d bought at the Tri-County Mall. She bunched the foam up, shoved it under her neck, and hoped that she wouldn’t be as stiff as a board in the morning. And then, even though she wasn’t used to sleeping on that side of the bed, and the foam pillow felt like a giant bag of petrified miniature marshmallows, and she’d forgotten to take off her slippers, she fell asleep almost instantly.