Cinnamon Roll Murder (Hannah Swensen, #15)(42)

I don’t care what kind of parka it is. What I’d really like is to have my old parka back! but she didn’t say that. Instead she forced a smile and said, “I’m sure it’s lovely, Mother.” And then she lifted the lid of the box.

Hannah blinked in surprise. It was her old parka reborn. It had come back to life as a smart, stylish quilted coat with exactly the same number of pockets her old parka had possessed. There were two large patch pockets with zippers, two side pockets sewn into the side seams, and even a small breast pocket for handy access to sunglasses or keys.

They were seated in one of Sally’s private booths with curtains that could be drawn for privacy and a lovely chandelier-type light fixture directly overhead. As Hannah slipped her fingers into one of the side pockets to see how deep they were, the material of the parka glinted in the light. “Oh, wow!” she said, realizing that what she’d thought was simple olive drab, the same color as her old parka, was completely different. This olive drab wasn’t drab at all! It had a design embossed on the material in gold.

“I was wondering if you’d notice,” Delores said with a smile. “It’s your favorite flower.”

“Lilacs.” Hannah tipped the box slightly so the light caught the design. “It’s beautiful!”

There was a hood. Hannah felt like cheering. She loved parkas with hoods. That was probably because she often forgot to bring her hat, and winter mornings in Minnesota, an hour or so before the daybreak, were frequently the coldest part of the day.

“Fur?” Hannah’s fingertips touched the trim around the ends of the sleeves and the collar.

“It’s not real fur. I thought that might be a bad idea with Moishe.”

“You thought right. He leaves fake fur alone, and so does Cuddles.”

Hannah looked up just in time to see her mother and sisters exchange glances. “What?” she asked.

“Your sister has something to tell you, Hannah.” Delores nodded toward Andrea.

The waitress chose that instant to arrive with the coffee pot. Once they’d given their dessert orders, everyone fell silent while she refilled their cups. Hannah was just as silent as her mother and sisters, but her mind was a claxon blaring out a warning. They all know something that you don’t know. And that can’t be good!

“Well?” Hannah said, the moment their waitress had left them.

“Well ...” Andrea faltered, and she turned to Delores. “Why do I have to do it? The last thing I want to do is hurt Hannah’s feelings!”

“None of us want to hurt Hannah’s feelings. We all love her.”

“Yes, we do,” Michelle said with a little sigh. “But I know exactly what you mean, Andrea, and I don’t envy you a bit. I don’t want to hurt Hannah’s feelings, either.”

This had gone on long enough. Hannah stood up to get their attention. “Hello? You’re talking about me as if I’m not here. It’s like a wake. And I’m not dead yet. Quit talking about me and talk to me!”

“You’re right.” Andrea turned to her. “Remember when I told you I called home and talked to Grandma McCann?”

“Sure. You said the kids were fine, Grandma McCann was fine, and Bill was fine.”

“They are. What I didn’t tell you was that the mail came. Grandma McCann said there was something that looked like an invitation, so I had her open it. It was an invitation to Doctor Bev and Norman’s wedding and it’s taking place next Saturday.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes. Norman came in at noon and told me that Bev had mailed them. Mine will probably be waiting for me when I get home tonight.”

Michelle looked confused. “But ... aren’t you upset? They actually set a date. And it’s only eight days away!”

“What are you going to do, dear?” Delores asked her.

Hannah gave a big sigh. “I’ll have to go. I don’t want to, but it wouldn’t look right if I didn’t. And that brings up an even bigger problem.”

“What’s that, dear?” Delores leaned forward in anticipation.

“I don’t know what I should wear. I want to look good, but I don’t want to be overdressed.”

“Wear white,” Delores said, her eyes narrowing.

“But Mother! Isn’t that a fashion boo-boo? I thought only the bride should wear white.”

“That’s right. And you should have been Norman’s bride!”

“Please, Mother. Let’s not get into that now. It just didn’t work out that way.”

“You should wear blue,” Michelle offered, “because that’s what you’re going to be when Norman’s new bride won’t let you see him anymore.”

Andrea shook her head. “I think Hannah should wear black. She might as well start mourning Norman now, because Doctor Bev is going to be the death of him!”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Delores asked, facing her eldest daughter squarely.

“I ... don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. Or maybe I should skip the ceremony and just go to the reception.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Delores said. “I meant what are you going to do about Norman and Bev getting married?”