Cream Puff Murder (Hannah Swensen, #11)(92)

The next to corner Hannah had been Bonnie Surma. “Oh, Hannah!” Bonnie had said, smiling so widely Hannah wondered if the corners of her mouth might crack. “I think your mother modeled the heroine of her book after me!”

“Really?” Hannah had asked, wondering which phrase Bonnie would use to substantiate her claim.

“This is why I think so.” Bonnie had flipped to a page in the book. “Her comportment was so charming, all who encountered her smiled with delight. Your mother once told me that my manners were charming and some other members of our Regency Romance Club could take a lesson from me.”

Earl Flensburg had been the next one to approach Hannah. Once they were alone at the back of the library, he’d said, “Your mother made me the Duke of Oakwood, Hannah.”

“Really?” Hannah had asked, waiting for him to read the salient phrase to her.

“Just listen to this…It was at this moment that a gentleman on horseback appeared, riding neck-or-nothing toward the disastrous event that was about to occur. He leaned dangerously low in the saddle and snatched the young boy from the jaws of certain disaster.” Earl stopped reading and turned to her. “You see what I mean, Hannah?”

“You think Mother’s describing you,” Hannah had said, knowing that she was right.

“Of course. She must have remembered our senior class picnic. We held it out at Ehrenberg’s farm, and a couple of us brought our horses. I did a little trick riding for the girls.”

“Amazing,” Hannah had commented, wondering how many times she could listen to the same assumptions without laughing.

The last two candidates for starring roles in her mother’s romance were Al Percy and Cyril Murphy. Al thought The Duke of Oakwood was a fine figure of a man, dressed in exquisitely tailored clothing referred to him, since Delores had complimented him on the new suit he’d worn at the last church supper. Cyril had a different take on the end of the same paragraph Al had used. He thought that He leaned against the garden wall in a relaxed pose, presenting a handsome profile must refer to him since Delores had once said he had a very distinctive profile.

“Hannah?” her mother hailed her from across the room and Hannah hurried to the table Marge had set up for the book signing. There was a nice-looking, rail-thin, well-dressed woman standing at her mother’s side and Hannah was almost certain she’d never seen her before.

“Yes, Mother?” Hannah arrived a bit breathless.

“I’d like you to meet the woman who’s been such a great help to me.” Delores smiled up at the stranger, the stranger smiled back, and then Delores motioned Hannah closer. “This is Doctor Love,” she said in a whisper.

“Call me Nancy,” Doctor Love said, giving Hannah a friendly smile. “I’m here incognito.”

“Hi, Nancy,” Hannah said, smiling back.

“I came to get a copy of your mother’s book. I’ve only had time to page through it, but it looks marvelous and I do love a good romance. I plan to mention it on the air tomorrow if you’d like to listen.”

“That’s very kind of you!” Delores looked completely delighted.

“The world needs more romance and I’m eager to run home and delve into yours. Tell me, Delores. Are your characters based on real people?”

“Somewhat,” Delores said, “but not entirely.”

“Good answer!” Nancy reached out to pat Delores’s shoulder. “I’m willing to bet that most of the men in this room think they’re the hero, and most of the women think they’re the heroine.”

“You’re right,” Hannah said. “At least a half-dozen people have already pulled me aside to read me passages from Mother’s book and tell me they know they’re the main character.”

Nancy laughed. “Just as I thought! Keep your eyes open, Hannah. If you find a man who doesn’t think he’s the hero, grab him and give him a hug because he’s the only realist in the bunch!”

Another fifteen minutes passed and four more people pulled Hannah aside to tell her that they knew they were Melissa or the Duke of Oakwood and read her the appropriate passage to prove it. She was just about convinced that there wasn’t a realist in the room when Norman walked up.

“Hi, Norman.” Hannah held out her tray. “Would you care for a cream puff?”

“Not right now, thanks. I just wanted to catch you alone and tell you how good you look.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Norman held up his copy of A Match for Melissa. “You know, this is a pretty good book.”

“Mother will be glad to hear that you think so,” Hannah said politely. And then she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think she modeled the Duke of Oakwood after you?”

“After me?” Norman looked absolutely astounded. “What are you talking about, Hannah? I’m not tall, dark, and handsome, I don’t ride well, and I’ve never had a whole line of women praying that I’ll ask them to dance. The Duke of Oakwood is about as far from my character as you can get.”

Hannah smiled in delight. If Doctor Love was right, Norman was the only realist in the room. But he was selling himself short and there was something she could do about that.

“Maybe that’s true,” she said, “but I’m almost sure that Mother modeled every single one of the duke’s good qualities after you.” And then she set down her tray and hugged him.