Key Lime Pie Murder. Joanne Fluke

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СКАЧАТЬ that one?”

      “Because your heads are tilted at exactly the same angle.”

      “That’s true,” Andrea said, but she didn’t look happy. “How about the one on the end?”

      “It’s a good picture, but the resemblance isn’t as striking. Tracey’s looking straight at the camera, and you’re looking off to the side.”

      “I know. I noticed that. It’s just…” Andrea’s voice trailed off, and she gave a little sigh.

      “It’s just what?”

      “My hair looks better in the picture on the end.”

      “True, but it’s not a beauty pageant. It’s a mother-daughter look-alike contest.”

      “You’re right, of course.” Andrea gathered up the photos and put them back in the folder. “I’ll use the one you picked.”

      Hannah’s sisterly radar went on full alert. Something was wrong. Andrea was worried about how she looked, and she’d mentioned her hair twice in the past three minutes. “What’s wrong with your hair?” she asked, forgetting to even try to phrase the question tactfully.

      “I knew it!” Andrea wailed, and her eyes filled with tears. “You noticed and that means everyone in town will notice. Bill said he couldn’t see any more, but he must have missed one.”

      “One what?”

      Andrea took a deep breath for courage and then she blurted it out. “A gray hair! I’m going gray, Hannah, and I’m only twenty-six. It’s just awful, especially since Mother isn’t even gray yet!”

      She would be without the wonders of modern cosmetology, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. She’d promised Delores she’d never tell that an expensive hair color called Raven Wing was partially responsible for her mother’s youthful appearance. Wishing for the wisdom of the Sphinx, or at least that of a clinical psychiatrist, Hannah waded in with both feet. Her goal was to make Andrea feel better even if it took a little white lie to accomplish it. “Oatmeal,” she said, remembering the extra bag of cookies she was carrying in her large shoulder bag.

      “What?”

      “Mother swears oatmeal prevents aging. She eats it every day.”

      “I know it’s supposed to be good for your cholesterol, and some people use it for facials.” Andrea looked thoughtful. “Does Mother really believe that it keeps her from going gray?”

      “Absolutely. But whatever you do, you can’t mention it to her.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because we’re not supposed to believe she’s old enough to have gray hair. If we mention it, she’ll take it as an insult.”

      Andrea thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll never mention it.”

      “So are you going to try it?”

      Andrea made a face. “I hate oatmeal. Remember how you used to try to trick me into eating it by sprinkling on brown sugar and making a face out of chocolate chips on the top?”

      “I remember. And it worked because you always cleaned your bowl.”

      “You only thought it worked. I ate off the brown sugar and the chocolate chips, and then I gave the bowl to Bruno when you weren’t looking.”

      “You did?” Hannah was disillusioned. She thought she’d been so clever in getting her sister to eat oatmeal, and the Swensen family dog had gotten it instead.

      “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” Andrea said, watching the play of emotions that crossed Hannah’s face.

      “That’s okay.” Hannah began to smile as she thought of the perfect ploy. She’d get Andrea to eat oatmeal now, every single day, to make up for her deception! “Bruno was a gorgeous dog. I used to wish I had hair that color.”

      “I know. And his coat was so soft. I still get a little lump in my throat every time I see an Irish Setter.”

      Hannah took a deep breath. She was about to drop the other shoe. “I’m glad you told me about the oatmeal.”

      “Why’s that?”

      “Because now I understand why Bruno never went gray. It must have been the oatmeal you gave him. Too bad you didn’t eat it.”

      Andrea groaned. “If I’d known, I would have. And now I suppose it’s too late!”

      “Not necessarily. Mother never used to eat it when she was young.”

      “Really?”

      “You were probably too little to remember, but all she used to have for breakfast was coffee. She said she never got hungry until noon, but I think that was just an excuse.”

      “For what?”

      “For not admitting that she was on a diet. Mother put on a little weight after Michelle was born and she had a hard time taking it off.”

      “So when did she start eating breakfast?”

      “It was after I went off to college. I’m not positive because I wasn’t there, but I think she started eating oatmeal for breakfast right after she got her first gray hair.”

      Andrea shuddered slightly. “Okay, I’ll just have to do the same thing. It’s close to a toss-up, but I’m pretty sure that I hate gray hair more than I hate oatmeal.”

      “Atta girl!” Hannah reached into her purse and pulled out a bag of cookies. “And just to make that oatmeal more palatable, here’s a present for you.”

      “Cookies?”

      “Karen Lood’s Swedish Oatmeal Cookies. They’re authentic and they’re absolutely delicious. Mother got the recipe from Karen before she moved out of town.”

      “Thanks, Hannah. I don’t usually like oatmeal cookies, but they’re bound to be better than eating oatmeal in a bowl.”

      “Taste one.”

      Andrea pulled out a cookie and took a bite. She chewed and then she smiled. “Good! I like these, Hannah!”

      “I knew you would. They’re a really simple cookie, and sometimes simple is best.”

      “Maybe this is crazy, but these remind me of your Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies.”

      “It’s not crazy at all. Both of them are buttery, crunchy, and sweet. Just make sure you have three a day, and come down to the shop for more when you run out. We bake them every day in the summer. There’s no chips to melt and they hold up really well in hot weather.” Hannah glanced down at her watch and started to frown. “You’d better get a move on, Andrea. You don’t want to be late turning in that photo.”

      “Right.” Andrea stood up and took a step away from the picnic table. СКАЧАТЬ