It seemed to take forever before the plates were removed and the bread basket, an item she’d been ignoring for close to an hour, had gone off on the busboy’s tray. Even the plate of butter had disappeared, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. Hannah had spent the past thirty minutes squelching the urge to stab one of the perfectly square pieces of butter and pop it into her mouth.

“Coffee all around?” Delores asked, and everyone nodded. It was a silly question to ask a bunch of Minnesotans who couldn’t remember ending a meal with any other beverage.

When everyone had been served coffee, Delores called for the dessert cart, and Hannah noticed that Norman had a word with their waitress. She was almost certain that meant her special dessert was about to arrive. Of course she’d enjoy it. She’d have to be dead not to enjoy dessert. But enjoyment came at a price, and Hannah knew that guilt and regret would set in immediately after she swallowed the last bite.

The dessert cart arrived with little fanfare. It didn’t need any bells and whistles. The desserts spoke for themselves on their glass plates and attractive bowls. Three different flavors of crème brûlée, four multilayered cakes, several pies, two choices of puddings, an array of pastries, and various flavors of sorbets and ice creams.

Hannah waited until her mother, her sisters, and Carrie had made their choices. Then Norman nodded at their waitress, and she lifted the cover on six lovely parfait glasses filled with layers of colors that shimmered and caught the light from the candle at the center of the table. The top of each dessert was decorated with three perfect raspberries, and Hannah wondered where Sally had found them this time of year.

“For you.” The waitress set one parfait glass in front of Hannah and another in front of Norman. “Sally hopes you’ll enjoy this special parfait. She said to tell you to please drop by the kitchen after dessert to tell her how you liked it.”

Hannah picked up her spoon to taste the concoction that Norman and Sally had wrought. But she couldn’t resist asking, “How many calories? Do you know?”

“Yes,” Norman gave her a big smile. “Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five?!” Hannah couldn’t believe her ears. Perhaps he’d said something else and she’d heard what she wanted to hear. “Did you say twenty-five as in five less than thirty?”

“Yes. Sally calls it Guilt-Free Parfait, and it would be less without the raspberries, but she thought they were a nice touch.”

“They are a nice touch. I’m going to save them for last.”