Chapter Eight
It was four days before Christmas and Hal & Rose’s Café was decorated for the season. There was a silver metal Christmas tree in the corner that was illuminated by a spotlight with a slowly revolving color wheel. The tree was red for ten seconds, blue for ten seconds, green for ten seconds, and yellow for ten seconds. Then the cycle started all over again. Hal had purchased the tree from Hannah’s father at Lake Eden Hardware in the seventies, and it was still going strong.
Hannah, Andrea, and Norman sat in the back booth under several strings of multicolored tinsel garlands that had been looped over the ceiling light fixtures in a crisscross pattern. A small fake poinsettia sat in the exact center of each table, and brightly colored cardboard cutouts of wreaths, snowmen, and sleighs were taped to the backs of the booths.
Except for the perpetual poker game that Hal hosted in the private banquet room in the back, the restaurant was deserted. It was two-fifteen in the afternoon, too late for lunch, and too early for the students at Jordan High to order after-school hamburgers and french fries. Even Rose had defected. She’d refilled their mugs, plunked the coffee carafe down on the table, told them to help themselves, and headed upstairs to the apartment over the restaurant to wrap a few Christmas presents.
“So what do we have so far?” Andrea asked, blowing on her coffee to cool it before she took a tentative sip.
Hannah got out her steno pad and prepared to read her notes aloud. She was taking a breather from work so that they could have a strategy meeting. Lisa and Candy were handling everything, and after a week at The Cookie Jar, Candy was fitting right in. Everyone appeared to believe Andrea’s cover story, although Hannah thought Bill might be a bit suspicious. He was letting it slide, though. Bill wasn’t about to haul Candy off to the county home right before Christmas, especially since she was now staying in the guest room at Hannah’s condo.
“She’s approximately fifteen, she doesn’t have a driver’s license yet, and she lives with her mother. Her father was a veterinarian, and he’s dead.”
Andrea shook her head. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“We don’t know what for sure?” Hannah asked with a frown.
“We don’t know her father’s dead.”
“Why would Candy lie about something like that?” Norman wanted to know.
“Divorce. I heard all about it on a talk show. Some kids don’t want to admit their parents have broken up. They’d rather say that one of them is dead.”
Norman looked puzzled. “But why?”
“It ends the discussion. If someone says, My dad is dead, you say, I’m sorry. And then you change the subject. If someone says, My parents are divorced, you might ask questions about which one they live with, and how often they see the other one, and things like that.”
Norman nodded. “That makes some kind of sense, but I still think he’s dead.”
“So do I.” Hannah glanced down at her notebook again. “I’m almost positive her name really is Candy. She answers to it even when she’s distracted, and it sounds natural when she says it. And I’m pretty sure her last name starts with an R.”
“She told you that?” Andrea asked.
“In a way, but she didn’t mean to. That first night when I woke her up, I asked her name. She said Candy, and then she began to say something that started with an R. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped cold and told me that I didn’t need to know her last name.”
“It’s probably an R, then,” Norman decided. “What else?”
“She has a photographic memory, although I’m not sure if that’s a clue or not. And when she was demonstrating it for me, she said she remembered the personalized license plate her mom gave her dad for his van. It said critters. And she told us her dad’s phone number at his clinic. It was eight-one-four, eight-four-four-one.”
“That’s a great clue!” Andrea exclaimed, giving her a thumbs-up.
“Only if her father’s not dead and the clinic she was talking about is still open.”
“Chances are, it’s still open even if he’s dead,” Norman told her. “Most clinics don’t go out of business when the doctor dies. Look at my father’s practice. If I hadn’t come back to run it, my mother would have sold it to another dentist. And you can bet he wouldn’t have changed the number, since all the patients already have it. You see medical practices for sale all the time. What you’re buying is the equipment and the existing patient list.”
Andrea gave him a bright smile. “Norman’s right, Hannah. Just look at Bertie. She didn’t start the Cut ’n Curl from scratch. She bought the former owner’s equipment and her client list. And I know for a fact that she kept the same phone number.”
“Maybe the vet clinic still has the same phone number, but unfortunately, there’s a hitch.” Hannah didn’t bother to point out that buying a medical practice wasn’t exactly the same as purchasing a beauty shop, and that Andrea was guilty of trying to add apples and oranges.
“What’s the hitch?” Norman asked.
“Candy didn’t give me the area code.”
Andrea waved off that concern. “We ought to be able to get around that. I mean, how many area codes can there be?”
“Over two hundred sixty, and that’s not counting Canada. I looked it up in the phone book. It would take hours to dial all those numbers.”
“I’ll do it,” Andrea volunteered. “It won’t take me that long since I’ve got programmable one-button dialing. All I have to do is punch in the area code and my phone will put in the rest.”
Hannah just shook her head. “Okay, if you think you can do it, but I don’t even want to think about what Bill will say when you get your next phone bill.”
“He won’t say anything, because it’ll be the same as this month’s phone bill.”
“You have a cell phone with unlimited minutes and no roaming charges?” Norman guessed.
“That’s right. I’ll start calling the minute I get home and work until Bill comes in the door. I’ll do what it takes, Hannah. If I have to, I’ll wait until he goes to sleep and I’ll call all night.”
“They might not be open all night,” Hannah pointed out.
“I know that. But since it’s a clinic, there’s bound to be an answering service. Is there anything else I should know about Candy’s family?”
Hannah glanced back down at her notes. “Her mother taught her how to make candy, but you already knew that. And here’s something, but it doesn’t do us a whole lot of good.” Hannah pointed to a note she’d made. “She said her Grandfather Samuel is a Methodist minister, but I don’t know what side of the family he’s on.”
“So far the phone number’s our best bet,” Norman said. “I’ll hop on the Internet to see if I can track down that license plate, but it’s a long shot since she didn’t say exactly how they spelled it and we don’t know the state. And if her father’s dead and her mother sold the van or something like that, the plate could have gone back into circulation.”
“I’ve got a theory about her home state,” Hannah told them. “My guess is, it’s not Minnesota. We watched the news last night right before she went to bed, and she wasn’t a bit jumpy.”
Norman gave a nod. “And she would have been jumpy if she was afraid her mother had reported her missing? And they might show her picture on television?”
“Exactly. Not only that; they did a sound bite from the governor’s last speech, and Candy asked me who he was.”
“Then she’s not from Minnesota. Where do you think she came from?” Andrea asked.
“Somewhere in the Midwest, probably no more than a day or two away from Lake Eden on the bus, or by hitchhiking. I could be wrong, but the night we found her, I noticed that her clothes were still clean and her sleeping bag looked almost new.”
“That all makes sense to me,” Andrea told them, finishing her coffee and sliding out of the booth. “I think your idea about the Midwest is right, especially since she doesn’t have an accent. I’ll try the Dakotas first and work my way around in a circle. Where will you be if I get a hit, Hannah?”
“I’m at the shop until six. We’re closing at five, but I want to mix up a double batch of Fudge-Aroons to take to Sally’s Christmas party on Friday night. You’re going aren’t you, Norman?”
“Yes. Will you save me a dance?”
“Absolutely,” Hannah said, hoping her smile wasn’t slipping. Norman was a great guy, but he wasn’t what anyone without steel-toed boots might call an accomplished dancer.
“How about Candy? Is she going?” Andrea wanted to know.
“Of course. I told her it was one of the biggest parties of the year and she’s all excited about it.”
“Does she have a dress?”
“Not yet, but I talked to Claire and I’m taking her over to Beau Monde tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget shoes. She can’t wear tennis shoes with a fancy party dress.”
“I won’t forget.” Hannah was grateful for the reminder, but she wasn’t about to let her sister know that she hadn’t even thought about shoes.
“So you’ll be home at…what? Six-thirty?”
“That’s about right.”
“Okay.” Andrea turned to go, but then she turned back. “What do you want me to say when I find Candy’s mother?”
Hannah thought about that for a moment, and she remembered what Mike had said. Some runaways had a very good reason for leaving home. “If the mother’s not too far away, see if you can get her to come here. Tell her that if I bring Candy back without resolving anything, she’ll just run away again. And the next time she could get into big trouble.”
“Okay, but what if she won’t come here?”
“Then I’ll go there, wherever it is.” Hannah felt the same surge of fierce protectiveness she experienced when she held small kittens and puppies. “Just make it clear that I’m not letting Candy out of my sight until I know she’s going to be okay.”
FUDGE-AROONS
Do not preheat oven—this dough must chill before baking.
1 cup chocolate chips (6-ounce package)
1 cup butter (2 sticks, ? pound)
? cup brown sugar
1 ? cups white (granulated) sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
? teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)
3? cups flour (not sifted—pack it down when you measure it)
Put the cup of chocolate chips and the cup of butter in a 4-cup bowl and microwave on high for 2 minutes. Stir until smooth and let the mixture cool while you do the next step.
Combine the brown sugar and white sugar in a large mixing bowl. Add the vanilla, salt, and baking soda. Mix in the two beaten eggs.
Check the chocolate chip and butter mixture. If it’s cool enough to touch, add it to the sugar mixture and stir thoroughly.
Add the flour in half-cup increments, stirring after each addition.
Cover your bowl and refrigerate it. This dough must chill for at least an hour. (Overnight is fine, too.)
The coconut (“aroon”) filling must also chill. Mix it up now.
COCONUT FILLING:
2 cups shredded coconut
1 cup white (granulated) sugar
1 cup flour (not sifted—pack it down when you measure it)
? stick cold butter (? cup, 1/8 pound)
2 beaten eggs
In a food processor with the steel blade, zoop up the coconut with the sugar and flour. Pulse it several times so that the coconut flakes are no longer than a quarter inch.
Cut the butter into four pieces and add them to your work bowl. Pulse again, until the mixture looks like coarse meal.
Crack the eggs into a small bowl or a cup and whisk them up with a fork. Add them to your work bowl and pulse until they’re incorporated into the mixture.
(If you don’t have a food processor, you don’t have to buy one to make this cookie—it’s just a little messier when the coconut flakes are longer. To make this cookie without a food processor, just add all of the ingredients except the butter to a small bowl and stir them up. Then melt the butter and mix it in.)
Cover and chill the coconut mixture for at least an hour. (Overnight is fine, too.)
When you’re ready to bake, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
Form balls of chocolate dough, 1 inch in diameter, with your hands. Place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-sized sheet. Press them down with the heel of your impeccably clean hand.
Form balls of coconut just a bit smaller than the chocolate balls you made. Place them on top of each squashed chocolate ball. Now squish those down.
Make 12 more chocolate balls, the same size as the first ones, and put them on top of the squashed coconut balls. Press them down slightly to make little “sandwiches.”
Bake at 350 degrees F. for 9 to 11 minutes. Let the cookies cool on the sheet for at least two minutes. When they’re cool enough to remove, use a spatula to move them to a wire rack to complete cooling.
Yield: 5 to 6 dozen yummy cookies.
If you have any coconut mixture left over, form coconut balls, 12 to a baking sheet, put a milk chocolate chip on top of each ball and press it down slightly, and bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 minutes.
Norman wants me to make these cookies even chewier—he says it’ll provide more revenue for his dental clinic. (He’s kidding…I think.)