Chapter Three
Hannah knew that if she had to hear one more chorus of the Beer Barrel Polka, she’d scream. It reminded her of the dance she’d shared with Marvin Dubinski only minutes before, and that wasn’t a pleasant memory. Once dinner had been served and the dessert buffet had been set out on the bar, the dancing had begun. Hannah had danced nonstop for at least thirty minutes, going from partner to partner. Her first partner was Mike, and then Norman, followed by Bill, Lonnie, Mayor Bascomb, and Jon Walker. Her last partner, Marvin Dubinski, had finished Hannah off for the night. They’d danced to a polka, and Marvin had stepped on her feet a total of six times. Now she was hiding out in a booth with Marge Beeseman and her family, hoping that Marvin wouldn’t spot her and ask her to dance any more polkas.
Mercifully, Frankie and the Frankfurters, the local band Lisa and Herb had hired for the dance, segued into a waltz. At least Hannah thought it was a waltz. It had a one-two-three, one-two-three rhythm, but the band played it so rapidly, most of the couples on the floor gave up trying to move to the music and came to a halt. The few that did attempt to dance whirled around as fast as the blades in the window fans, bumping into the stationary couples and making them scramble to get out of the way.
At least Frankie, if that really was his name, realized his mistake. He led his group into a slower number, one with a cuddle-up-and-barely-move rhythm that restored order to the dance floor. Hannah tuned back into the conversation at hand, just in time to hear Marge Beeseman’s question. Since Hannah was sandwiched in the big round booth between Marge and her brother, Gus, she had no choice but to be a party to their conversation.
“Did you find what you wanted to take from your old room?” Marge asked.
“Part of it. I couldn’t find my favorite bedspread. I wanted to hang it on the wall in the guest bedroom. That has a western theme.”
“Are you talking about the chenille one with Roy Rogers on it?”
“Yeah. The trunks were all labeled, and Lisa showed me the one from my bedroom. I thought it would be there, but it wasn’t. I guess I’ll have to go to some antique stores to find another one.”
“That might be really expensive,” Marge cautioned him. “Some of those old memorabilia items go for an arm and a leg.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t mind paying for what I want. It’s one of the advantages to having money.”
Hannah was still watching the dance floor. The havoc was over, and the mirrored ball that hung from the ceiling rotated like the planets in the science project her father had helped her make in ninth grade. As the ball revolved, it sent beams of colored light down to illuminate the dancers who were now moving sedately. Since everything was calm, and there was no bump or tumble imminent, she turned her attention from the dance floor to Marge’s brother, Gus. Hannah assumed that he was just trying to impress people, but he certainly mentioned money a lot!
Gus Klein was a handsome, well-dressed man in his fifties. Just an inch or so short of the six-foot mark, he had carefully styled dark blond hair with an elegant streak of silver over his left temple. The silver streak made him look distinguished, and Hannah suspected a beautician had placed it there. She knew she shouldn’t make snap judgments, but he seemed to be a man who was all about appearances. Some people believed that if the package was appealing enough, it didn’t really matter what was inside. Hannah was not one of them. Naturally, she preferred an attractive package, but it was what was inside that really counted.
What was inside Gus Klein? Hannah hadn’t known him long enough to know, but he seemed a bit shallow to her, and she didn’t like his continual bragging about his life in Atlantic City. He’d told them all that he had a standing appointment for a manicure at his office, he called in a masseuse when he felt tense, and when he entertained, he ordered food from the most exclusive restaurant in town and had it delivered to his penthouse condo.
She did know that Gus expected everyone else to wait on him. When Marge had asked him to join her at the buffet line, he’d told her he was too busy talking to some Brainerd cousins and practically ordered her to bring him a plate. The same thing had happened with the dessert buffet. It was as if his time was too valuable to stand in line like the rest of the relatives. He’d sent Lisa off to bring a sampler plate of dessert and coffee for the table, and then he’d passed out what he’d said were real Cuban cigars that he’d imported at great expense.
Hannah looked around for Andrea and spotted her on the dance floor with Bill. Andrea was the fashion expert, and Hannah hoped she’d assessed Gus’s clothing. While Hannah didn’t know a whole lot about men’s attire, or women’s either for that matter, she knew that the clothes Gus wore weren’t mail order. They weren’t mall clothing, either.
So what was the bottom line on Gus? Hannah thought about it for a minute. Most would say that he was handsome, charming, and sophisticated. And for those who didn’t dig deeper, all of the above would be correct. But Hannah had the feeling that Gus was none of the above. She couldn’t help but feel that he was playing a part, trying to appear urbane and elegant when he was really a beer-and-brat guy. Something wasn’t quite right about Gus Klein’s public persona, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
Hannah glanced at Marge. Lisa’s mother-in-law was dressed to the nines tonight in an outfit that Hannah termed aging hippie, a phrase she’d never utter out loud for fear she’d hurt Marge’s feelings. Some ladies liked to look sleek. Delores was a case in point. Her outfits were always tailored to embrace her perfect figure. Other ladies liked flounces, full skirts that swung out like cowgirls at a Saturday night square dance. Marge liked flutter. Butterfly wings and swooping fringes had nothing on her tonight. She was wearing a purple chiffon pantsuit that fluttered around her legs when she walked, and almost cleared off the table when she made a sweeping gesture.
Jack Herman, Lisa’s dad, sat next to Marge. He looked handsome in dark slacks and a lavender shirt, but he didn’t look happy. His lips were curved in a smile, but his eyes were angry and Hannah could tell that his smiling countenance was nothing but a polite gesture. Several times during the evening, she’d caught him glaring at Gus. Lisa had mentioned that there was bad blood between them, but when Lisa had asked her father what was wrong, he’d refused to discuss it.
Marge’s twin, Patsy, looked so much like Marge that Hannah could believe the stories they’d told about how they used to play jokes on their dates by switching places halfway through the evening. There were ways to tell the twins apart, but only if they were standing side by side. Patsy’s hair was slightly darker and she was a bit heavier than Marge. Marge’s nose was a smidgen longer. Patsy’s eyebrows were darker. It wasn’t much of a yardstick to tell them apart, and Hannah was glad they didn’t dress alike.
Mac, Patsy’s husband, sat next to her. He was handsome and athletic, and Hannah had caught several of the unattached women at the dance eyeing him appreciatively. Patsy had noticed too, but she didn’t seem concerned. Either she trusted her husband completely, or she just didn’t care. Hannah was betting on the latter since they were sitting right next to each other without touching. If her psychology professor at college was correct when he lectured on body language, the space between them spoke volumes about the health of their marriage.
“I don’t think Mother bought your bedspread at a store,” Marge said to Gus.
“She didn’t,” Patsy confirmed it. “I remember we saved box tops for her and she sent away for it.”
“That’s right! You know the type of thing we’re talking about, don’t you, Hannah?”
Hannah was jolted out of her musing and back to the scene by Marge’s question. It was a good thing she’d been half listening to the conversation. While she’d much rather be ignored and left to her own thoughts, Marge obviously wanted to include her.
“I think I do,” Hannah answered. “Andrea and I saved the little proof of purchase circles from something or other so that Michelle could have a fairy princess wand. All we had to pay was the postage and handling.”
“Did she like it?” Patsy asked.
“She loved it. Unfortunately, the little bulb burned out the first week, and Dad couldn’t find a replacement.”
“That’s probably what happened to your bedspread,” Marge said to Gus.
“It burned out?” Gus gave her a little grin to show he was kidding.
“Close. It must have fallen apart when Mother washed it to store it in the trunk. But you said you found some things you wanted.”
“I got some of my baseball stuff.”
“The special bat Dad bought you when you made the team at Jordan High?” Patsy asked.
Gus nodded. “It was right on top, my Louisville Slugger, the one I used in high school. I hit my first home run with that bat. I couldn’t find my glove, though.” Gus gave a little chuckle. “Maybe that fell apart right along with my bedspread.”
“You could be right,” Patsy told him. “Leather does that if it’s not treated.”
“And I know Mother didn’t treat it,” Marge picked up on her sister’s comment. “She kept your old room just as it was for a couple of years, and then she packed everything up and put it in the trunk. Dad dragged it up to the attic, and I’m pretty sure they never looked at it again. It was just too painful, you know?”
Gus shifted a bit and Hannah could tell he was uncomfortable. “Well, I’m glad they kept my things for me.” He turned to Hannah. “Did you keep anything from your childhood?”
“Let me think about that for a second.” Hannah recognized his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. It was clear he didn’t want to answer difficult personal questions. Hannah thought about thwarting his attempt, but Gus was looking at her the way a drowning man might look at a rescue vessel, and she simply had to help him out. “I still have the pink satin toe shoes I bought when I was a kid.”
“Ballet?” Marge sounded incredulous. “I didn’t know you took ballet lessons.”
“That’s just the problem. I didn’t. When I was about eleven, I got the notion that if only I had the proper shoes, I could dance the lead in Swan Lake.”
“So you got the shoes and discovered that you couldn’t do it?” Marge asked.
“That’s right,” Hannah replied, dismissing it with a smile and a shrug, not mentioning the disappointment she’d suffered when she couldn’t achieve en pointe without grasping the back of a sturdy chair and hauling herself up on it. She’d been so sure she was a natural in a field that had no naturals, only dedication, constant practice, and years and years of ballet training. But this wasn’t the time or the place to bare her soul. It was best to make light of it “Another childhood dream fractured. You know how it is. But I did keep all the Degas prints my mother bought for me.”
“So here we all are, reliving old memories,” Jack said, staring directly across the table at Gus. “Remember Mary Jo Kuehn?”
The silence that followed Jack’s question was so heavy Hannah imagined she could cut with a knife. She wasn’t sure what it meant since she’d never heard of Mary Jo Kuehn, but everyone except Jack looked uncomfortable.
“I remember,” Gus said, “and I’ll never stop missing her. She was such a pretty girl. But I met another pretty girl today, Jack.”
“Who was that?” Marge asked, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.
“Jack’s oldest daughter, Iris.” Gus turned back to Jack. “She doesn’t look at all like you, so I guess she must take after her mother. And speaking of Emmy, you’re here with Marge. Did you and Emmy get a divorce?”
Jack gave him a look that would freeze lilacs in July. “Emily is dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Gus sounded sincere to Hannah’s ears. “How about your sister, Heather?”
“She’s dead, too,” Jack repeated, still glowering.
“Do you remember Mr. Burnside?” Marge trilled, and Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never heard Marge sound so intensely cheerful before.
“Of course.” Patsy sounded deliberately cheerful, too. “I thought I was going flunk algebra, but he took pity on me.”
“You did all right,” Marge reached over to pat her hand. “Did you enjoy the dessert buffet?”
“Oh, my yes! It’s absolutely scrumptious. And your carrot cake…” Patsy turned to smile at Hannah. “I’ve always been known for my carrot cake, but yours…it’s even better than mine. Mac had three pieces!”
“I had four,” Gus declared, “and I want more.” He turned and winked at Hannah. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another cake stashed anywhere?”
“Actually…yes, I do. I was saving it for tomorrow, but I can always put it out if there isn’t any left on the platter.”
Mac, who was at the edge of the booth, stood up to look. “There’s half a platter left.”
“Gus just wants you to leave him a private stash so he can eat it later,” Marge informed her. “He used to do the same thing with my Cocoa Fudge Cake. I always had to bake two, one for the family and the other one for Gus.”
“You’re right,” Gus admitted. “I’m guilty as charged.” He turned to Hannah. “Will you put away a plate of carrot cake for me?”
“Oh. Well…sure. How much do you want?”
“At least half a cake,” Patsy answered for him. “That’s what he used to ask Marge for. And in the morning, it was all gone. Gus was a midnight refrigerator bandit.”
“So is Jack,” Marge said, in an attempt to bring Jack into the conversation.
Hannah turned to look at Jack. He wasn’t having it. He was just staring at Gus and glowering.
“I don’t suppose you brought that Cocoa Fudge Cake tonight, did you?” Gus addressed Marge. Hannah was sure he’d noticed that Jack was glowering at him, but he preferred to ignore it.
“Not tonight, but I’m baking it tomorrow. I’ll make an extra cake, just for you.”
“For me and not for your boyfriend?” Gus glanced across the table at Jack.
“Jack isn’t exactly my boyfriend, although I love him a lot. I always have and I always will.” Marge shot Gus a level look and took a deep breath. Hannah suspected that she was debating the wisdom of saying more. “And speaking of love,” Marge went on, “how could you leave Lake Eden in the middle of the night without saying anything to any of us?”
Gus reared back as if he’d been hit buy a salvo of enemy arrows. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Marge. It was just that I had to go then. I don’t have to explain myself to you or to anyone else.”
“No, you don’t,” Patsy chimed in. “But you should have. It’s too late for the people who loved you the most. Our parents are dead now. They deserved an explanation, or at least a goodbye before you left.”
“They never stopped believing that you’d come home,” Marge added. “And you never even wrote, or called, or anything. We saw their hearts break, and we want to know why.”
Hannah’s head swiveled to Gus. He looked horribly uncomfortable. For a split second she almost felt sorry for him, but what Marge and Patsy had said was true. Gus hadn’t bothered to call, or write, or contact his parents in any way. And now it was too late.
Gus was silent for a moment. And then he leaned forward. “I couldn’t,” he said. “I had to prove myself first. And that didn’t happen until a couple of years ago.”
Hannah began to frown. Gus had been bragging about his nightclub business when she’d joined Marge in the booth. “But you said you were successful once your flagship, Mood Indigo, got off the ground. You also said that you paid off the money you borrowed to start it over twenty years ago. You could have come back then. Your parents were still alive.”
Gus turned to her, and Hannah fought to the urge to shrink back. He didn’t look happy that she’d caught him in an inconsistency.
“What is this? The inquisition?” He gave Hannah a look intended to warn her off. “I didn’t want to put the cart before the horse. There’s no way I wanted to contact Mother and say I was a successful businessman and then fail in my plans for expansion.”
“Expansion?” Mac leaned closer. “You have more than one nightclub now?”
“You bet. I’ve got four, and I’m thinking about expanding again. Atlantic City is a great place to own a nightclub, and they’re popping up all over.”
Mac leaned slightly closer to Gus. “You must be pulling in a good profit to think about opening another one.”
“Oh, I am. You don’t expand unless you’ve got the money to do it. That’s what I meant about putting the cart before the horse. It always takes a while to get a new club going.”
“The construction of the building?” Mac guessed.
“That and the fact you have to get the customers in and then keep them coming back. You definitely have to set aside a big budget for advertising.”
“I like the name Mood Indigo,” Marge said, and Hannah noticed that she squeezed Jack’s hand. “Do all the others have a blue theme?”
Gus looked relieved now that they’d switched to a less personal subject, and he favored his sister with a smile. “It’s clever of you to realize that. We play mainly blues in the clubs. And the décor in each club is a different shade of blue. There’s Mood Indigo, you already know about that. And then there’s the Aqua Room, Sky Blue Heaven, and Midnight Stars. I got that idea from the map of the heavens I used to have on my ceiling. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to go through that trunk from my old bedroom. I thought I might come up with another name for a nightclub.”
“True Blue,” Jack offered. “Except that it wouldn’t fit. You’ve never been true to anyone in your life.”
“And you’ve never minded picking up the leftovers,” Gus shot back.
There was a moment of silence when everyone just held collective breaths. Hannah wondered if they would sit there forever, just wanting for that second shoe to drop. She hated to think of what might happen if it did. Jack was glaring at Gus. And Gus was glaring at Jack. This could be very awkward, especially since she was seated next to Gus.
“Excuse me,” Hannah said. And the tension eased as everyone turned to look at her. “I think I’ll check my cake platter to see if I need to cut more. Does anyone else want more dessert?”
“I do!” Marge seized the opportunity.
“Me, too,” Patsy said, giving Mac a little nudge. “Come on. Slide out and let’s get some more of Hannah’s Special Carrot Cake.”
Marge grabbed Jack’s arm and almost pushed him out of booth. “Let’s go, Jack. I need some more coffee.”
Jack slid out of the booth and held out a hand to Marge. Then he turned to give Gus a final glare. “I’m out of here. And it’s not a minute too soon.”
And then they were gone, Jack, Marge, Patsy, and Mac. And that left Hannah alone in the booth with Gus.
“You’re leaving, too?” Gus asked in a tone she couldn’t quite read.
“Well…I should probably cut the last cake and refill the platter,” Hannah hedged awkwardly. But then she took pity and said, “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll fix a plate of cake for you and you can stash it somewhere for later.”
“Hold on a second. I’ll be right with you.” Gus popped what looked to Hannah like a pill in his mouth and washed it down with the scotch and soda Marge had gone to fetch for him earlier.
“Should you be drinking and taking meds at the same time?” Hannah couldn’t resist asking.
“It’s just an over-the-counter antacid. That paté had too much horseradish for me.”
Since they were sitting at the center of the horseshoe-shaped booth, Gus slid out from one direction and Hannah slid out from the other. Gus leaned over to retrieve his glass, and while she was waiting for him, Hannah looked out over the crowd. She was surprised to see Jack standing only a few feet away, holding Marge’s arm while she exchanged a few words with another couple in a booth.
Hannah gave a little wave, but all Jack did in return was scowl. He’d obviously heard her talking to Gus, because the look on his face was disapproving. If she had to describe it, Hannah would say that Jack Herman looked as if he’d just overheard her making a pact with the devil!
HANNAH’S SPECIAL CARROT CAKE
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
2 cups white (granulated) sugar
3 eggs
? cup vegetable oil (not canola, or olive, or anything but veggie oil)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
? cup sour cream (or unflavored yogurt)
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon (or ? teaspoon cardamom and the rest cinnamon)
1? teaspoons salt
1 20-ounce can crushed pineapple, juice and all***
2 cups chopped walnuts (or pecans)
2? cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down when you measure)
2 cups grated carrots (also pack them down when you measure)
*** That’s about 1? cups of crushed pineapple and a scant cup juice
Grease (or spray with Pam) a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan and set it aside.
Hannah’s 1stNote: This is a lot easier with an electric mixer, but you can also make it by hand.
Beat the sugar, eggs, vegetable oil, and vanilla together in a large bowl. Mix in the sour cream (or yogurt.) Add the baking soda, cinnamon (and cardamom if you used it) and salt. Mix them in thoroughly.
Add the can of crushed pineapple (including the liquid) and the chopped nuts to your bowl. Mix them in thoroughly.
Add the flour by half-cup increments, mixing after each addition.
Grate the carrots. (This is very easy with a food processor, but you can also do it with a hand grater.) Measure out 2 cups of grated carrots. Pack them down in the cup when you measure them.
Mix in the carrots BY HAND. Grated carrots tend to get caught on the beaters of electric mixers.
Spread the batter in your prepared cake pan and bake it at 350 degrees F. for 50 minutes, or until a cake tester (I use a food pick that’s a little longer than a toothpick,) inserted one inch from the center of the cake comes out clean.
Let the cake cool in the cake pan on a wire rack. When it’s completely cool, frost with cream cheese frosting while it’s still in the pan.
CREAM CHEESE FROSTING
? cup softened butter
8-ounce package softened cream cheese
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 cups confectioner’s (powdered) sugar (no need to sift unless it’s got big lumps)
Mix the softened butter with the softened cream cheese and the vanilla until the mixture is smooth.
Hannah’s 2ndNote: Do this next step at room temperature. If you heated the cream cheese or the butter to soften it, make sure it’s cooled down before you continue.
Add the confectioner’s sugar in half-cup increments until the frosting is of proper spreading consistency. (You’ll use all, or almost all, of the sugar.)
Hannah’s 3rdNote: If you’re good with the pastry bag, remove 1?3 cup of frosting and save it in a little bowl to pipe on frosting carrots and stems.
With a frosting knife (or rubber spatula if you prefer) drop large dollops of frosting over the surface of your cooled cake. I usually end up with somewhere between 6 and 12 dollops. The dollops are like little stacks of frosting—you’ll spread neighboring stacks together, working your way from one end to the other, until you’ve frosted the whole cake. (This dollop method prevents uneven frosting thickness and “tearing” of the surface of your cake as you “pull” frosting from one end to the other.)
If you decided to use the pastry bag to decorate your cake, mix most of the remaining frosting with one drop of yellow food coloring and one drop of red food coloring. Mix it thoroughly to make an orange frosting and pipe little carrots on top to decorate your cake. You can save a bit of uncolored frosting to color green and dab green stems on the large end of the carrots.