Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(27)

"I know it does, but it's possible." Hannah tried to sound as if she believed her own story. "You just keep mum until you hear from me. I'll run right over to Granny's Attic and find out from Luanne personally."

"Luanne's out at the Ferguson family farm auction. They're selling a wonderful treadle sewing machine, and there's an oak butter churn that I have my heart set on buying. There's some milk glass, too, and you know how popular that is. Promise me you won't disturb her when she's bidding, Hannah. She has to concentrate."

"I won't disturb her, but I need to get to the bottom of this. And just as soon as I do, I'll tell you."

Delores made a little sound of distress. "You have no idea how difficult it's going to be not to tell a few of my closest friends and get their opinion on…”

"Don't you dare!" Hannah interrupted with a warning.

"All right, I won't. My lips are sealed until I hear from you. But I'd better hear from you soon!"



Once Hannah had explained things to Lisa, she headed out to the Ferguson farm. It was only a mile from the site of Norman's new house and since his contractor and crew weren't there, Hannah pulled into the driveway to see how the house was progressing.

"How about that? It's beginning to look like a house," Hannah said to the purple grackle that was pecking at something in the yard. The foundation had been poured, the framing was complete, and the workmen had almost finished the sheer walls. Once the roof was on and the doors and windows were secure, it would be snug for the winter.

Even though Norman had invited her to come out to see the progress several times in the past, Hannah felt a bit like an intruder as she opened the front door. Actually, opening the door was a bit silly. The tall windows that would go on either side of the door were still missing and she could have simply stepped through the framing. All the same, there was something wonderfully ceremonial about turning the knob and opening the front door of the house they'd designed together for the dream house contest.

"Nice," Hannah said, stepping into the foyer and gazing up at the staircase that led to the second floor balcony. Then she climbed the stairs and headed down the hallway to the children's bedrooms. They looked like empty boxes now, but Hannah could imagine a boy's room with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and a girl's room with a window seat where she could sit and dream. There was another room for an office or hobby room… and then there was the master bedroom.

Hannah held her breath as she entered the master bedroom. It was exactly as she had imagined, with an outside balcony where the happy couple could have coffee in the morning and look out over the lake. There was also a river rock fireplace that would keep the room toasty in the winter and provide a romantic touch.

Hannah sighed past the lump in her throat. She suspected that all it would take was a little more encouragement and Norman would propose. Then this house would be hers, this wonderful house she'd designed with a man she firmly believed would make a near-perfect husband. The only thing stopping her from giving Norman the encouragement he'd need to make the whole thing official was the curse of indecision. How could she accept a proposal she'd engineered from Norman when she wasn't sure that she was willing to give up her relationship with Mike?

And what relationship was that? Hannah thought with a frown, the altercation they'd had about Bill foremost in her mind. But even though she was at odds with Mike for not trusting and supporting her brother-in-law, there was still an attraction between them she couldn't deny. As much as she loved the idea of living in the dream house she'd helped to design, she knew she wasn't ready to make that choice.

She glanced around her one more time and headed for the stairs. She'd dealt with enough for one day and there was still the meeting with Luanne to consider. The front door banged as she shut it behind her and Hannah tried not to think of how final it sounded as she hurried to her cookie truck. Her love life, or lack of it, was becoming a problem, but she didn't have the time to deal with it now. Norman could wait. Mike could wait. The important thing now was clearing Bill by solving Sheriff Grant's murder.





Chapter Eleven





The Ferguson family farm was large, with land stretching out as far as the eye could see from the two-story farmhouse that sat smack dab in the middle of the acreage. Hannah drove up to the house and parked, then followed the cardboard signs to the pole barn where the auction was being held. As she approached, she could hear Chuck Ganz, the auctioneer, rattling off numbers and patter so fast that it almost sounded as if he spoke in a foreign language. Chuck had once told Hannah that it took three things to be an auctioneer: a good memory for numbers, a quicksilver tongue to spit them out as fast as the ear could hear, and the courage of a grizzly to get up in front of all those people and risk making a fool of yourself.

It sounded like the bidding was just winding up, and Hannah stopped inside the open door to listen for a moment. Chuck stood on a platform at the opposite end of the shed, gesturing expansively and talking nonstop. Dressed in unremitting black from head to toe, he sported a wide yellow tie that he claimed was his personal beam of sunshine on a cloudy day. It was something he said at the start of every auction and not really very funny, but people liked Chuck and they always laughed because he expected them to.