Carrot Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #10)(10)

“I think I do,” Hannah answered. “Andrea and I saved the little proof of purchase circles from something or other so that Michelle could have a fairy princess wand. All we had to pay was the postage and handling.”

“Did she like it?” Patsy asked.

“She loved it. Unfortunately, the little bulb burned out the first week, and Dad couldn’t find a replacement.”

“That’s probably what happened to your bedspread,” Marge said to Gus.

“It burned out?” Gus gave her a little grin to show he was kidding.

“Close. It must have fallen apart when Mother washed it to store it in the trunk. But you said you found some things you wanted.”

“I got some of my baseball stuff.”

“The special bat Dad bought you when you made the team at Jordan High?” Patsy asked.

Gus nodded. “It was right on top, my Louisville Slugger, the one I used in high school. I hit my first home run with that bat. I couldn’t find my glove, though.” Gus gave a little chuckle. “Maybe that fell apart right along with my bedspread.”

“You could be right,” Patsy told him. “Leather does that if it’s not treated.”

“And I know Mother didn’t treat it,” Marge picked up on her sister’s comment. “She kept your old room just as it was for a couple of years, and then she packed everything up and put it in the trunk. Dad dragged it up to the attic, and I’m pretty sure they never looked at it again. It was just too painful, you know?”

Gus shifted a bit and Hannah could tell he was uncomfortable. “Well, I’m glad they kept my things for me.” He turned to Hannah. “Did you keep anything from your childhood?”

“Let me think about that for a second.” Hannah recognized his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. It was clear he didn’t want to answer difficult personal questions. Hannah thought about thwarting his attempt, but Gus was looking at her the way a drowning man might look at a rescue vessel, and she simply had to help him out. “I still have the pink satin toe shoes I bought when I was a kid.”

“Ballet?” Marge sounded incredulous. “I didn’t know you took ballet lessons.”

“That’s just the problem. I didn’t. When I was about eleven, I got the notion that if only I had the proper shoes, I could dance the lead in Swan Lake.”

“So you got the shoes and discovered that you couldn’t do it?” Marge asked.

“That’s right,” Hannah replied, dismissing it with a smile and a shrug, not mentioning the disappointment she’d suffered when she couldn’t achieve en pointe without grasping the back of a sturdy chair and hauling herself up on it. She’d been so sure she was a natural in a field that had no naturals, only dedication, constant practice, and years and years of ballet training. But this wasn’t the time or the place to bare her soul. It was best to make light of it “Another childhood dream fractured. You know how it is. But I did keep all the Degas prints my mother bought for me.”

“So here we all are, reliving old memories,” Jack said, staring directly across the table at Gus. “Remember Mary Jo Kuehn?”

The silence that followed Jack’s question was so heavy Hannah imagined she could cut with a knife. She wasn’t sure what it meant since she’d never heard of Mary Jo Kuehn, but everyone except Jack looked uncomfortable.

“I remember,” Gus said, “and I’ll never stop missing her. She was such a pretty girl. But I met another pretty girl today, Jack.”

“Who was that?” Marge asked, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.

“Jack’s oldest daughter, Iris.” Gus turned back to Jack. “She doesn’t look at all like you, so I guess she must take after her mother. And speaking of Emmy, you’re here with Marge. Did you and Emmy get a divorce?”

Jack gave him a look that would freeze lilacs in July. “Emily is dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Gus sounded sincere to Hannah’s ears. “How about your sister, Heather?”

“She’s dead, too,” Jack repeated, still glowering.

“Do you remember Mr. Burnside?” Marge trilled, and Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never heard Marge sound so intensely cheerful before.

“Of course.” Patsy sounded deliberately cheerful, too. “I thought I was going flunk algebra, but he took pity on me.”

“You did all right,” Marge reached over to pat her hand. “Did you enjoy the dessert buffet?”

“Oh, my yes! It’s absolutely scrumptious. And your carrot cake…” Patsy turned to smile at Hannah. “I’ve always been known for my carrot cake, but yours…it’s even better than mine. Mac had three pieces!”

“I had four,” Gus declared, “and I want more.” He turned and winked at Hannah. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another cake stashed anywhere?”

“Actually…yes, I do. I was saving it for tomorrow, but I can always put it out if there isn’t any left on the platter.”

Mac, who was at the edge of the booth, stood up to look. “There’s half a platter left.”

“Gus just wants you to leave him a private stash so he can eat it later,” Marge informed her. “He used to do the same thing with my Cocoa Fudge Cake. I always had to bake two, one for the family and the other one for Gus.”