Chocolate Cream Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #24)(26)

“Frozen grapes?” Delores looked puzzled. “I haven’t had those before.”

“It’s a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try. If Florence has any seedless grapes, I’ll make those. And I’ll bring some of Aunt Kitty’s Jamaican Rum Balls, too.”

“Stephanie loves those! I had some left over from Christmas Eve and we had them with champagne.”

Delores finished her cookie, drank the last of her coffee, and stood up to go. “I’ll see you about three-thirty then, dear. That way we’ll be all ready when Stephanie gets there at four.”

“Before you go, I need to know whether Stephanie prefers vodka or tequila.”

Delores looked confused. “I’m not sure, dear. She did mention that she sometimes drinks vodka tonics in the summer, though.”

“Good enough. And we know she likes champagne.”

“Oh, yes. Expensive champagne. The last time she came over for coffee, I had to open a second bottle of Perrier Jouet. But you’re not planning to bring champagne or vodka, are you, dear?”

“No, but I need them for the grapes. They’re marinated in a mixture of Prosecco and tequila, but I’ll substitute champagne and vodka.”

“Oooh! That sounds lethal!” Delores looked slightly worried. “You may have to drive Stephanie home, dear.”

Hannah laughed. “Or I’ll leave her with you to sleep it off.”

Delores looked properly horrified. “You wouldn’t . . . would you, dear?”

“No, I was joking, Mother. Are you going to Granny’s Attic this morning?”

“Yes, Carrie’s meeting me there and we’re going to price some antiques that Luanne found at an estate sale in Brow-erville. I’m sure they’re wonderful. Luanne has a very good eye for a bargain.”

Once Delores had left, Lisa turned to Hannah. “Sounds like Luanne is doing very well working for your mother and Carrie. She’s managing the store now, isn’t she?”

“Yes, and she’s also their accountant. She finished her last class right before Christmas.”

“Is she thinking about going to work at Stan Kramer’s accounting firm?”

“I doubt it. Mother and Carrie gave her a big raise. And she loves going out to auctions and estate sales. If Luanne worked for Stan, she’d be stuck in an office all day.”

Lisa glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “If you’re planning to go to the Red Owl, maybe you’d better go now. We still have forty-five minutes before we open.”

“Good idea.” Hannah stood up, carried her coffee mug to the sink, and went to grab her parka. “I’ll be back before we open,” she promised as she slipped on her boots and went out the door.

It was cold outside and Hannah pulled up the hood of her parka and slipped her hands into the fur-lined gloves that Norman had given her for Christmas. She’d walk to Florence’s grocery store. It was only a block away. As she hurried down the alley, passed the back of Claire’s dress shop, Beau Monde Fashions, and crossed the street at Third and Main, she was smiling. It was good to be out walking again after three days of confinement in the condo. The air was frosty and it smelled fresh and clean, the sun cast golden sparkles on the snow, and the icicles hanging from the branches of the big pine in the middle of the block glistened like they were made of melted diamonds.

There wasn’t a soul on the street. Most of the businesses didn’t open until nine, and it was too early for shoppers. Florence’s Red Owl Grocery was open though. She always opened early so that she could stock the shelves with the food items that had come in during the night. Her regular supplier had a key to the office in the back, and he stacked the crates and boxes in there. It would have been folly to leave them on the loading dock. Produce would have frozen and turned brown during the winter nights, canned goods would have frozen and broken open, and liquids would have popped their tops and formed a frozen frosting of dish soap, or beer, or soda on the tops of bottles and cans.

The front door of the Red Owl was still locked, but Hannah knocked loudly. Florence appeared at the end of the canned soup and meat aisle and smiled as she saw Hannah standing there.

“Hannah!” Florence greeted her as she unlocked the door. “Come in! Where’s your cookie truck?”

“At The Cookie Jar. I walked here.”

“Pretty cold, isn’t it?”

“It’s not so bad now that the winds have died down. Have you unpacked your produce yet, Florence?”

“Just did it. What did you need, Hannah?”

Hannah crossed her fingers even though it was difficult to do in the bulky, fur-lined gloves. “Seedless grapes,” she said.

“You’re in luck. I just got a shipment of fruit from Venezuela. Do you want red fire grapes? Or green grapes?”

“Both please.”

Florence led the way to the produce section and pointed to the grapes. “They look good, don’t they?”

“They sure do. I’m so glad you have them, Florence. I need them for a recipe I’m making at The Cookie Jar.”

Florence looked puzzled. “I didn’t know you could bake with grapes!”

“I don’t know if you can, or you can’t, but I’m not going to bake with them.”

“But you bake so much, Hannah.” Florence looked confused. “What kind of recipe is it, then?”