Morning Glory(82)
I hand her the recipe book, and she fans through its pages, stopping when something catches her eye. “Cinnamon cookies,” she says. “Mmmmmm.”
She hands me the recipe book, and I look over the ingredients. “I think we have everything here. Let’s make them.”
Penny’s Cinnamon Cookies
Makes 3 dozen
INGREDIENTS
1 cup butter, softened
1 ½ cups sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons molasses
2 ¼ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 ½ tablespoons ground cinnamon
DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350. Mix butter and sugar together until smooth. Mix in egg, vanilla, and molasses. Then, mix flour, baking soda, and cinnamon and add to butter mixture. Form one-inch balls of dough, and place on cookie sheet about two inches apart. Bake 10 to 12 minutes.
Gracie lets out a little squeal, then follows me to the kitchen. Together we crack eggs and mix butter and sugar together. In twenty minutes, the oven is preheated and we place the cookie sheet inside. The kitchen smells glorious, like vanilla and cinnamon and butter, and when the timer beeps, we can hardly wait for them to cool before trying them, with a glass of milk, of course.
“These are the best cookies I’ve ever had,” Gracie declares.
“I think I agree,” I say, reaching for a second.
After they cool, I place a half dozen cookies in a Ziploc bag. “For you and your dad,” I say. “And be sure to save some for your mom.” I wonder what Kellie, the proficient cook, will think of the cookies, but mostly I wonder what she’ll think of me spending time with her daughter.
We play double solitaire on the floor until Alex knocks on the door and lets himself in. “Hi,” he says from the doorway.
I look up after setting a card down on the stack of hearts. “How did it go?”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Glad to have that over with. How’s my girl?”
Gracie leaps up. “We made cookies!”
Alex grins. “I know. I could smell them all the way from the street. Can I have one?”
Gracie hands him the bag.
“Wow,” he says. “These are really good.”
“It’s Penny’s recipe,” I say.
He gives me a knowing smile, then turns to Gracie. “Well, I should get this munchkin home.” He pauses for a moment. “You can join us, Ada.”
“No,” I say quickly. “You two go ahead. I have some things to get done today.”
“OK,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But stop by later, all right?”
I call Joanie after Alex leaves. “I just spent the morning with Alex’s daughter,” I say, lying on the couch. “We all went to church together.”
“Church?”
“Yeah. It was really nice.”
“What was she like?”
“She’s wonderful.” I feel a lump in my throat. “Ella would have loved her.”
“Do you think she liked you?”
“I think so,” I say. “She braided my hair during the service, and we made cookies at my place.”
“That’s cute,” Joanie says. “How’s the investigation going?”
“I feel like I’ve hit a dead end,” I say, laying the contents of Penny’s chest out on the floor. “No one will talk about Penny. I think I have to find her husband.”
“What was his name again?”
“Dexter Wentworth.”
“Sounds like one of those spoiled rich guys on the crime shows who gets away with murder because his daddy hires a hotshot lawyer.” I can envision Joanie rolling her eyes on the other side of the continent.
“Don’t be so quick to judge him,” I say. “What if he’s nothing more than a grieving husband?”
“But didn’t you say that he was having an affair?”
“Well,” I say, remembering what I read about Lana Turner. Of course, it was only speculation, but it was highly probable. “Yes, there’s that. But that’s not exactly reason enough for foul play. Lots of men in the 1950s had affairs. Think of Mad Men.”
“Oooh, I wonder if he looks like Don Draper?” Joanie says with a squeal.
“You know, the comparison isn’t that far off,” I say. “In the photos I’ve seen, he had dark hair and that dashing look about him.”
“Well,” Joanie says, “be careful, all right? If he had something to do with Penny’s disappearance, he’s not going to like that you’re poking about.”
“Joanie, he’s in his nineties.”
“I know,” she replies. “But it doesn’t matter how old someone is. If they want to conceal the truth, they’ll stop at nothing to do it.”