Cream Puff Murder (Hannah Swensen, #11)(4)

Hannah wasted no time in peeling herself out of the dress and handing it out the door to Claire. In less time than it would take her to beat a meringue by hand, not that she ever would, she emerged from the pretty little dressing room, zipping up her parka.

“I’ll call you later, Claire,” Andrea said, hustling Hannah out the door.

“What plan?” Hannah asked, turning up her collar as she headed across the parking lot for the back door of her bakery and coffee shop, The Cookie Jar.

“You’re already on a diet. You told me that, and it’s all to the good. That means we’ve got two whole weeks to firm you up.”

“Firm me up?!” Hannah uttered the words in the same shocked tone she would have used if her cat, Moishe, had barked to greet her when she opened the door. “Does firming up mean what I think it means?”

“It does.” Andrea braced herself against the wind that almost claimed the little fur hat she was wearing. “I bought a year’s membership at Heavenly Bodies, and it comes with a guest pass. I’ll get you enrolled in my Classic Contours class. That’s a program to discover your ideal shape.”

Hannah was about to object when she reconsidered. Classic Contours didn’t sound bad, especially if the classic part had something to do with classic art. The women Reubens painted certainly weren’t featherweights. Then there were the Gibson Girls, and no one could describe them as sylphlike, and…

“Once you discover your perfect shape, you use individual body sculpting to achieve and maintain it. Each one of us has a series of personalized exercises we do.”

She’d known it was too good to be true. Hannah gave a deep sigh and put away thoughts of well-proportioned, plus-size ladies.

“Anyway,” Andrea went on. “I’ll call out there and sign you up, and my personal fitness coach will design an exercise program for you.”

“Uh-oh,” Hannah breathed, giving a little shudder. The phrase fitness coach was not in her vocabulary. Even worse, the phrase exercise program brought back painful memories of mandatory calisthenics in elementary school gym class.

“Don’t worry. It won’t cost you anything,” Andrea reassured her, completely misinterpreting Hannah’s near-panicked expression. “Roger, my fitness coach, owes me one. I’m advertising his classes on my real estate flyers.”

“It’s not the money. It’s just that I’m not cut out for an exercise regime. It’s never worked for me before, and…” Hannah stopped and sighed again. She really wanted to tell her sister to forget it, but she knew how disappointed Delores would be if all three of her daughters weren’t wearing the dresses she’d bought for her launch party. Were two weeks of her life too much to give for her mother’s happiness?

Andrea sensed Hannah’s ambivalence, and she gave her closing argument. “If you exercise every day, use the right machines, and stick to your diet, you’ll be able to fit into your dress before Mother’s party.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Just say yes, and we’ll get started bright and early Monday morning.”

Tomorrow was Sunday. At least she had one day to enjoy before Andrea cracked down the hammer. Hannah had made a solemn promise four years ago, right after she’d embarked upon a jogging regime that had lasted less than a week. She’d vowed to never again throw herself into an activity she knew she wouldn’t complete. It was a waste of time, an assignment in futility, an endeavor that was fated to end in defeat.

“I love you just the way you are, Hannah.” Andrea reached out to give her a little hug. “But just think of how proud Mother will be when she sees all three of us in the lovely dresses she chose for us.”

Guilt reared its ugly head, and Hannah groaned. Andrea was pulling out all the stops to close the deal, a tactic she must have learned in real estate school.

“Yes?” Andrea prodded.

Hannah felt as if her life was about to pass in front of her eyes, but there was no help for it. She had to make their mother proud. “If you’re sure it’ll work, I’ll do it.”

“I’m sure.”

“I just wish I’d known all this before we left Bertanelli’s,” she muttered, opening the back door and ushering Andrea in.

“So you could have ordered your salad without dressing?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why then?” Andrea hung her coat on one of the hooks by the door and settled herself on a stool at the stainless steel work island.

“So I could have ordered a jumbo pizza for my last meal.”





Chapter Two




It was early Monday morning, and there was only one light in her bedroom. That was the way Hannah wanted it. She was dreading the event that was about to take place, and shedding light on it would only make it worse. She’d promised herself she’d never do this, but circumstances had changed.

Hannah sat down at the dressing table and addressed the large orange-and-white cat reclining at the foot of her bed. “I’m warning you, Moishe. If you say anything at all, you’re history!”

Total silence greeted her, and Hannah was reassured. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Other people did it, and they seemed to enjoy it. She’d even heard several say that it gave them a lift, made them more aware and alert, more equipped to handle the stresses of the day.