Devil's Food Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #14)(20)

“I will. Any other suggestions for the bon voyage party?”

“Yes. I think you should put a macadamia nut on top of each cookie. That’s so Hawaiian. And you could serve them on your father’s surfboard. The top is almost flat like a big plate.”

“Dad had a surfboard?” Hannah was amazed. She just couldn’t imagine the father she’d always thought of as non-athletic on a surfboard.

“It’s just decorative, dear, one of those touristy mementos they sell in the shops at the airport. As I remember, it had palm trees and waves painted all over it. Your father hung it on the wall in the living room for a couple of years after we were first married.”

“And you still have it?”

“Yes. It’s up in the attic where it’s been ever since your father decided to take it off the wall. You can go up there and get it if you want it.”

Hannah made up her mind almost instantly. “I want it. It’ll make a perfect cookie platter, and I can sanitize it by covering it with plastic wrap. How about you, Mother? Didn’t you bring any souvenirs home from Hawaii?”

“Yes, but they didn’t last long. They sold macadamia nuts at the airport, and I just loved the chocolate-covered ones. That was before anyone had them here, and I brought back six boxes. And that gives me another idea. Why don’t you call Florence and see if she can order some? You could use plain macadamia nuts on the papaya cookies and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts on the others.”

“That’s perfect! For someone who doesn’t bake, you have great ideas.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m glad I could be of some help.” Delores rose to her feet, and this time Hannah didn’t stop her. “I’ll see you on Saturday, dear. If you’d like to stay for dinner, I can make Hawaiian Pot Roast or E-Z Lasagna.”

Hannah’s stomach roiled at the thought of eating her mother’s E-Z Lasagna or Hawaiian Pot Roast. It wasn’t that they were bad. It was just that they were the only two entrees Delores ever made. Every week, when she went to her mother’s house for their mother-daughter dinner, she had one or the other. There was no way she could face either one again on the weekend.

“Hannah?”

Her mother was waiting for an answer and Hannah put on her most regretful expression. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I have plans for Saturday night.”

“Oh. Well…another time then. I have work to do anyway. The outline on my next Regency romance is due in two weeks.”

“Do you know the title yet?”

“I’m not sure, but it has to be alliterative. My titles are always alliterative. Do you have any ideas?”

Hannah thought about that. Her mother’s first book had been titled A Match for Melissa, and the book she was launching next week was A Season for Samantha. “How about A Boyfriend for Bettina?”

“It’s too modern, dear. They didn’t use the word boyfriend in Regency times.”

“Okay. How about…A Husband for Holly?”

Delores mulled it over for a moment, and then she smiled. “I like that. Holly can be a commoner and the man she marries at the end of the book can be a titled gentleman. Some gentlemen did marry beneath their station, you know. And that elevated their brides to their station.”

“If you marry a duke, you’re a duchess?”

“Exactly right.”

“What happens if a titled woman marries beneath her station? Does her new husband get elevated in status?”

“No, dear. It doesn’t work the other way around. As a matter of fact, when a duke died, his duchess could no longer own their land or their homes. Her oldest son became the duke, and his wife became the new duchess. She was demoted to dowager duchess status.”

“What status is that?”

“It’s a steep step down, dear. A dowager duchess had to live in a small cottage called the dower house, a distance away from the duke’s castle. She had to give up all her jewelry and money, because they were an asset of the estate. Everything she had belonged to the new duke. And she depended totally on her son’s largess for any monies she needed to live.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Of course it’s not, but that’s the way it was then.”

“Maybe she would have been better off not marrying at all,” Hannah speculated.

“No, dear. Unmarried women were treated worse than pariahs. You see, all the eligible young ladies were trotted out in fine clothing for the Season in London.”

“Season?”

“That’s what they called it, dear. It was held right after the gentlemen finished hunting on their country estates and before Parliament was called back into session. The eligible young ladies were presented to the queen, and feted at balls and parties. It was arranged so that the unmarried men could take their pick of the debutants. A young lady was expected to receive at least one proposal of marriage.”

“What happened to the young ladies who didn’t receive proposals?”

“That’s the sad thing, dear. If a young woman went through more than one Season, she was considered to be on the shelf. She was often ridiculed and given uncomplimentary names like ape-leader.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes it is. Things are a lot better now. Look at you, dear. You’re over thirty and you’re not married. That would make you a spinster in Regency England. To make matters worse, you’re in trade. That was something a woman didn’t do unless it was to help in a shop owned by her husband.”