"Hi, Miss Swensen!" Craig hailed her as she got out of her truck. "Do you need some help with your cookies?"
"Are you offering? I've got a bag of new cookies you can try if you are."
"You bet." Craig's eyes crinkled at the corners, and Hannah knew he was smiling behind all that orange yarn. "Just let me rope a couple of my friends into helping and we'll only have to make one trip."
Hannah opened the back of her truck while Craig jogged over to a group of Jordan High seniors. Before she had time to pick up the first box of cookies, she had six eager helpers. They carried the cookies over to the warm-up tent, and Hannah was amazed to see about a dozen spectators already in the bleachers that surrounded the rink. They were huddled in the front row in a tight little group, drinking steaming cups of coffee.
Once she'd paid off her volunteers, Hannah turned to Linda Nelson, who was running the counter. She was a senior, and Mrs. Baxter had told Hannah that she was the best homemaker in the class. "It looks like you've sold some coffee already."
"We sold one whole urn and we just made the second," Linda told her. "It's cold out there."
"What time does the speed-skating competition start?"
"At one o'clock. Some of the parents came early to see the warm-ups. You should come back to see it, Miss Swensen. Barry Withers is just incredible. If he can shave off a tenth of a second, he'll break the school record."
Hannah took one look at Linda's shining eyes and figured that a little romance might be brewing right along with that fresh urn of coffee. "I'll come back if I can. Right now I've got tons of cookies to deliver."
"Would you like a cup of coffee for the road?"
"I'd love it, thanks. And if you see Barry, tell him that I'm rooting for him."
Less than five minutes later, Hannah was back on the road, a fresh cup of coffee resting in the plastic carrier between her seats. The town baseball field was her next destination, and she was right on schedule.
As she pulled into the parking lot, Hannah saw that there was a flurry of activity out on the field. Two parka-clad teams of students were building snow forts at opposite ends of the field. In less than an hour, the "Great Snowball War" would begin, and the preparations were underway. Gil Surma, Jordan High's counselor and the assistant coach of the basketball team, was the general of the blue army stationed at first base. His team wore blue ski masks. The boys in the rival red army, which sported red ski masks, were engaged in building a fort by third base. They were commanded by their principal, Mr. Purvis. Both "generals" were out on the field, supervising the stockpiling of munitions to make sure that no foreign objects, such as rocks or chunks of ice, were rolled into the snowballs that were being stacked inside the forts.
Hannah parked as close to the warm-up tent as she could and got out to open the back of her truck. She stacked up as many boxes as she thought she could carry in one trip, picked them up with both arms, and headed for the entrance to the tent.
"Steady, Hannah." A familiar voice greeted her and strong arms reached out to take the top three boxes. "You were getting a little wobbly there."
Hannah smiled the moment the boxes were removed and she could see who her rescuer was. "Hi, Norman. How are you feeling?"
"Fine. My headache is gone and Doc Knight took off that bulky bandage. He says the stitches are already starting to heal."
"That's good. Did he say it was all right to judge the contest?"
Norman shook his head, and Hannah noticed that he winced slightly. No doubt his head was still sore. "I'm not judging. I came out here to take a couple of pictures for the school photography club."
"Doesn't the photography club take its own pictures?"
"Yes, but they asked me to come as backup. They want a shot of Mr. Purvis getting pelted for the yearbook."
"I guess things haven't changed that much." Hannah was grinning as they walked inside the warm-up tent with their sugary burden. "When I went to high school, we were aclass="underline" ways trying to get embarrassing pictures of our principal. You'd better not get too close to the action or you'll get a face full of snow."
"I know. That's why I'm using a telephoto lens," Norman explained, handing his boxes to one of Mrs. Baxter's students and following Hannah out to get more cookies.
After they'd carried in the last of the boxes that Mrs. Baxter had ordered, Hannah asked Norman to walk her back to her truck. When they arrived, she opened the passenger door. "Get in for a minute, Norman. I need to talk to you."
"Okay." Norman slid into the passenger seat and Hannah walked around to get in on the driver's side. Once she was settled, Norman turned to her. "What is it, Hannah?"
"I did something this morning that you might not like, but I had your best interests in mind," Hannah told him, and then she gave him the details of the story she'd planted with Larry Kruger.
"I wish you hadn't done that," Norman said when she was finished. "I rather fancied myself as bait. Is there any way you can retract that story?"
Hannah shook her head. "No way. I'm sorry if you don't like it, Norman, but I have enough to do without worrying about you."
"You were worried about me?"
"Of course I was. I was scared stiff that you'd go out and do something really stupid!"
The moment the words left Hannah's mouth, she wished that she could call them back. She'd completely forgotten about tact and what Lisa had advised her to say. She expected Norman to climb out of her truck and refuse to speak to her ever again, but all he did was grin.
"You're not mad?" Hannah asked him.
"I wish you'd asked me first, but I'm not mad. Actually, I'm quite the opposite." With that comment, Norman pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. And then he tipped up her head and kissed her. For a moment, Hannah was so startled, she almost resisted. Then nature took over and she found herself enjoying Norman's kiss thoroughly. Her instinct was to throw her arms around his neck and keep him right there in the front seat of her truck for a long, indefinite period, but before she could act on her impulse, Norman pulled back to smile at her.
"See? I'm not mad," he said, reaching out to tweak her nose. Then he opened the door and climbed out of her truck. "See you later, Hannah. I need to get some shots of Mr. Purvis inspecting those snowballs."
As Hannah drove off, she was smiling. She felt comforted, and warm, and more at peace than she'd been in days. But then her thoughts turned to Mike and she began to frown. She'd enjoyed Mike's kisses in the past, and she'd also enjoyed Norman's kiss. There was one big difference between the two. Mike's kisses made her feel sexy, on the verge of something slightly dangerous and very exciting. And Norman's kisses made her feel sexy, and natural, and good all over.
Hannah sighed. It was impossible to compare Mike and Norman. Mike was the man of her dreams, and Norman was the man of her wide-awake hours. And every time she tried to choose one over the other, she ended up wanting both of them.
Lake Eden Park was a hubbub of activity when Hannah arrived. Several shuttle sleighs were just arriving, and Hannah loaded herself up with boxes and carried them carefully through the crowd.
"The cookies are here!" one of Mrs. Baxter's girls called out as Hannah entered the warm-up tent. She rushed over to take the boxes and motioned to two other girls. "Come on. Let's go help Miss Swensen unload."
With four of them working, the unloading didn't take long. On the trips back and forth to her truck, Hannah learned that the girls had opened their concession thirty minutes early, they had already gone through three urns of coffee and one of hot chocolate, and every one of their customers had asked when the cookies would arrive.