Cinnamon Roll Murder (Hannah Swensen, #15)(80)

“Coffee?” she asked, hoping it was ready as she shuffled through the kitchen doorway.

“Coming right up. Sit down and I’ll pour some for you.”

Hannah sat. Gratefully. And then she glanced over at Michelle. Her youngest sister’s cheeks were pink, her eyes were sparkling, and her hair was curling gently around her pretty face. Oh, to be young again! But Hannah knew she’d never looked as beautiful as Michelle did, even when she was young.

“You’re scowling.” Michelle set a mug of coffee directly in front of Hannah. “What’s the matter?”

“I was trying to figure out how you can look so good in the morning when I feel so dragged out.”

“Clean living. If you’d lay off the booze and drugs for a while, you’d probably start to look better.” Michelle burst into peals of laughter. “You should see your face. You look absolutely dumbfounded. I’m kidding, okay? It’s just a joke, Hannah.”

“Don’t joke with your elder in the morning or she may turn on you like a ravening beast.”

“Nicely put,” Michelle sat down and took a sip of her coffee, “but what’s a ravening beast anyway?”

“It’s too early for me to define a word. You’ll have to wait until I can remember my name.”

“Okay. Drink coffee. Get those brain cells dancing. I really want to know what it is.”

Hannah took a big swallow of coffee. It was hot, and it was good. There was nothing like coffee on a cold spring morning that still felt like winter.

“More,” Michelle said.

Hannah took another swallow. And then another. Caffeine was starting to work its magic on her tired brain.

“Name?” Michelle prodded her.

“Hannah.”

“Middle name?”

“Louise.”

“Last name?”

“Swensen.”

“Occupation?”

“Cookies.”

“Age?”

“I don’t want to think about that.”

“Weight?”

“Michelle! Cut that out!”

“Okay. Your brain seems to be working again now. What’s a ravening beast?”

“Ravening comes from the Middle French word raviner, which means to rush or take by force. It was first used in the sixteenth century. Ravening means to possess the ability to devour greedily, or to prowl for prey. In other words, I’ll crush you like a bug if you mess with me first thing in the morning.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. What are you doing today? Or is it too early to ask?”

“I’m finishing my coffee so that I can stay awake and not drown in the shower. And then I’m going to get dressed and see if I can find something for breakfast.”

“I’ve got that covered. I’ll make another pot of coffee while you shower. And then we can taste the bran cookies I baked this morning.”

“You baked this morning?” Hannah asked, and then she remembered smelling the sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar when she came into the kitchen.

“I was up early thinking about the cookies we promised to bake for Doc. And I had a brainstorm, so I got up and tried out a recipe.”

“What kind of a brainstorm?”

“I’ll tell you after you taste them. Now hurry up and take your shower.”

Less than ten minutes later Hannah came back into the kitchen. She was dressed in clean jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. She was wearing her moccasin boots, the ones with the fringe on the sides, and Moishe and Cuddles were on her heels, one on the left and the other on the right, trying to capture the fringe as she walked.

“How about one of those cookies?” she asked, refilling her coffee mug and then sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Do you like bran?”

“Not particularly. I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t choose it.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because if you really loved bran you might love the cookies even though they weren’t that tasty. Let’s see if you like these.” Michelle walked over with a napkin containing two cookies.

Hannah took a bite and chewed. “Nice aftertaste,” she said. “These are really good cookies, and I love the cinnamon and the raisins. They remind me of something, but I don’t know what.”

“Think back to your childhood,” Michelle advised, “and try another bite.”

“With pleasure.” Hannah took another bite. Then she took another, bigger bite and the cookie was gone.

“Did you remember?”

“No.” Hannah picked up a second cookie. “These are definitely winners, Michelle. I like these as much as I used to love ...” She stopped and looked up at her sister in shock as the light dawned. “Grandma Ingrid’s bran muffins?”

“That’s right. I just made a couple of changes and baked her bran muffins as bran cookies.”

“That’s brilliant,” Hannah said, and then she looked puzzled. “Where did you get her recipe?”

“It was in one of those shoe boxes on your bookshelf.”

“Really? I didn’t even know I had it!”

“It was in the third box I tried.”

“Well, good for you! These are definitely great cookies, and Doc’s going to absolutely love them!”