The cookie crunched in her mouth, just the way it should, but it was definitely on the dry side. The anticipated burst of butter that should have exploded on her taste buds was lacking. There was no vanilla taste, either, and Hannah began to frown. These cookies looked nice, but they really had no taste at all.

“Excuse me?” The female caterer, dressed in an expensive suit, walked over to give Hannah a nervous smile. “I couldn’t help noticing your reaction to the cookies. Don’t you like them?”

Hannah thought about tact. Then she thought about new business. New business won out and she decided that she wouldn’t be doing the caterer any favors if she didn’t tell her the truth. She stepped closer and lowered her voice so that none of the other guests would hear. “The cookies are disappointing. I hope you didn’t make them.”

“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” The caterer looked amused.

“Not really. Did you make them?”

“No. I bought them from a supplier.”

Hannah was relieved. At least she didn’t have to tell the caterer that her own recipe was at fault. “Don’t buy from them anymore. They use cheap shortening instead of butter and they’re much too light on the vanilla. They overbake them, too. They probably set their ovens low to keep them from browning and leave them in for too long.”

“How do you know they use shortening?”

“There’s no butter taste,” Hannah explained. “A sugar cookie without butter is like a car without gas. It looks good, but it doesn’t work.”

The caterer laughed. “You’ve got a point. How could you tell that they’re overbaked?”

“That’s easy. They’re as dry as sawdust. Taste one—you’ll see.”

“I already have and you’re right. Are you in food service?”

“Just cookies. I own a place called The Cookie Jar. If you give me your card, I’ll send you a sample box of good sugar cookies.”

The caterer reached into her pocket and handed Hannah a card. “I’ve been thinking about switching suppliers. Could you handle a standing order?”

“That depends on the order.” As Hannah opened her dress purse and stuck the card inside, she wished that she’d had cards made. She really hadn’t thought it was important until now. “Call me if you like the cookies and we’ll discuss it. I’ll include my card when I send them.”

After the caterer had left, Hannah turned to look for Norman. She found him standing a few feet behind her and he was grinning from ear to ear. “What is it, Norman?”

“You. You’re amazing, Hannah.” Norman took her arm and walked her toward the grouping of small tables that were set up for dining. “If I went after new business the way you do, I’d have to enlarge the office and put in a revolving door.”

Hannah laughed. “I guess you’re right. When it comes to my cookies, I know they’re the best and I’m not shy about telling people. But I almost goofed, Norman. I never thought about having cards made before.”