Bridal Shop 04.5-Christmas Cookie Caper
Christmas Cookie Caper
Karen Sue Walker
Published by Karen Sue Walker, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CHRISTMAS COOKIE CAPER
First edition. September 12, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Karen Sue Walker.
Written by Karen Sue Walker.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Also by Karen Sue Walker
Thank you to my wonderful readers for your support and encouragement. This is for you.
To the real life (human) Josie: Josie the Cat may be absent from this tale, but your spirit is throughout this story of friendship and food. I'm sorry there aren't any sugar-free recipes!
One
The winter sun slipped below the horizon, and twinkling lights illuminated the little town of Crystal Shores. Shops closed early this time of year, but their colorful decorations illuminated the streets long into the night.
Max Walters and her assistant Keiko Hamasaki locked the front door of Wedding Belles Bridal Shop and hurried to Fiona McNulty’s house. They’d been invited for a cookie baking and tasting party, and although Max wasn’t much of a baker, her mouth watered at the thought of sampling freshly baked cookies. They both wore their holiday finery, which for Keiko meant a ruffled red dress with fur trim, while Max wore a blue sweater with a snowflake print.
“I just love this time of year,” Max said, her mind on holiday treats.
“Celebrating the birth of Christ?” Keiko asked.
“Yes, of course.” Max glanced at Keiko. “Thank you for reminding me why we have this holiday.”
“I follow the teachings of the Buddha, but I also believe in what Jesus taught, like ‘love thy neighbor as thyself.’ That is what the bible says, isn’t it?”
Max smiled and nodded. “I suppose no matter what religion you are, you can’t argue with that.” She breathed in sea air combined with the smell of wood burning in fireplaces. “Everyone is so festive and good natured. Why can’t it be like this all year long?”
“That is an excellent question,” Keiko said. “I wish I had an answer for you. I wish ‘peace on earth, goodwill toward men and women’ was something people talked about all the time.”
“That would be nice.”
“Do you know what else I wish?” Keiko asked.
Max heard the eagerness in Keiko’s voice, remembering that Keiko believed in things like magic wishing stones. “What?”
“I wish it would snow.” Keiko looked up at the clear, star-filled sky hopefully. “I’ve never had a white Christmas.”
Max shrugged. “Well, you’re not going to get one around here. I’ve lived in this town nearly three decades, and it hasn’t snowed once.” Keiko seemed so disappointed, she added, “It would take a miracle.”
“A miracle,” Keiko repeated softly. “Miracles do happen, especially at Christmas.”
They’d reached Fiona’s blue and white cottage, and Max announced, “We’re here.”
“What’s in your bag?” Keiko asked. “It doesn’t look like cookies.”
Max glanced at the heavy shopping bag full of flour, butter, and other ingredients. “They’re not cookies yet,” she said. “I hope to bring home the final product. After all, I don’t want to arrive empty handed at the Christmas Bazaar tomorrow.”
Max knocked on the front door of Fiona's cottage, while Keiko tarried by the flower bed. Keiko leaned down to smell a pale violet rose. “Roses in December! How does she do it?”
Max surveyed the small garden that surrounded the front patio. “I can’t even keep a houseplant alive. I wish Fiona would share some of her secrets, like how she manages to win the Crystal Shores Christmas Cookie Contest every year.”
“Have you ever entered the contest?” Keiko asked.
Max wasn’t sure she wanted to divulge the fact that her specialty was microwave cookies, so she simply said, “My cookies are never pretty enough to enter a contest.”
“You of all people must know that it’s not what they look like that counts.” Keiko said. “How they taste is much more important.”
“They need to look good, too, if you want to win the contest,” she said, adding, “My microwave chocolate chip cookies would never win!”
Max’s Microwave Chocolate Chip Cookie in a Mug
INGREDIENTS
1 Tablespoon butter, softened
1 Tablespoon brown sugar – dark or light
1 teaspoon white sugar
1 egg yolk (or one Tablespoon egg, egg substitute, or egg white)
1/8 teaspoon vanilla
3 Tablespoons flour
1 Tablespoon quick or rolled oats (or use another Tablespoon of flour if you prefer)
1 pinch salt (omit if using salted butter)
2 Tablespoons of your favorite chocolate chips
In a mug, stir the first five ingredients until blended. Add flour and oats and mix until the flour is incorporated into the batter. Stir in chocolate chips.
Microwave for 40-60 seconds. Your cookie will not appear brown, but it should look dry when done. Let cool slightly and enjoy!
Max’s Note One: For a cookie sundae, add a small scoop of ice cream and a drizzle of chocolate syrup, caramel, or cinnamon roll syrup (elsewhere in this story) – delish!
Max’s Note Two: If you’re too impatient to wait for the butter to get soft, you can microwave it for just a few seconds, but don’t melt it or it will curdle the yolk and melt the chips. (If you do accidentally melt the butter, like I did once, just put it in the freezer for fifteen minutes and proceed with the recipe).
Two
Fiona pulled the door open. “Come in, come in! Take off your coats. We’re in the kitchen.”
Fiona led them through her cozy living room to a warm, brightly lit kitchen where her sister Teresa sat at a red Formica table rifling through a small tin box. Several index cards lay on the table.
“I can’t find it anywhere,” Teresa said, a hint of concern in her voice, then grinned when she recognized their visitors. “Oh, hello girls.”
“Something missing?” Max asked.
Teresa pulled out several more cards and frowned. “The recipe for Christmas Tea Cakes. Why don’t you girls sit down, and I’ll make a pot of tea. It’ll be ready to go as soon as the water heats up.” Once the kettle was filled and set on the stove, she rejoined them.
“You keep your recipes in a box?” Keiko asked. “I thought they came in books before the internet.”
Teresa and Fiona glanced at each other and Max thought she saw Fiona wink. Teresa shook her head. “Don’t you start telling her stories like how you carved them on stone or had to make your own paper out of papyrus.”
Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re no fun.”
Teresa started to giggle. “Remember when you had your grandson convinced that you had a pet dinosaur?”
“Daniele was so mad at me, but I didn’t expect him to believe me.” She began to snicker. “That daughter of mine can be such a stick in the mud. But she’s a wonderful mother, even if she doesn’t know how to get blue dye out of a kid’s hair. How was I supposed to know it was permanent?”
Max began to snicker. The sisters’ laughter was infectious.
“What are you laughing about?” Keiko asked Max.
“I don’t know,” she
admitted. “I don’t even know who we’re talking about.”
“You remember my daughter, Daniele, don’t you Max?” Fiona asked. “She used to babysit you when you were little.”
“Oh, Danni,” Max said, using the name the then-teenager preferred. “She never let me stay up late. Of course, I remember her.”
“I don’t,” Keiko said.
Fiona patted her on her shoulder. “Of course not, dear. Dani went away to college in Arizona twenty years ago, met her husband, and never moved back. She’s a bit conventional to be frank.”
“A little conventionality is not a bad trait in a mother,” Teresa said with a sigh.
The kettle began to whistle, and the sisters busied themselves with setting out teacups and saucers. Each china cup was a work of art and not one matched.
Once they were all settled with their tea, Max brought up the subject of the recipe box again. “My grandmother had a box like this. I wish I knew what happened to it.”
“This was our mother’s. She carefully copied each recipe onto index cards. The penmanship was beautiful, almost like calligraphy. Before typewriters were common, penmanship was very important and a source of pride for those who could master the art. Over the years, Teresa and I added to the collection, and even though our writing didn’t quite measure up, we tried our best.”
“And one of the recipes is missing?” Keiko asked.
Fiona nodded. “My prize-winning Christmas Tea Cakes recipe. I’ve won the Christmas cookie contest three times with them.”
“I guess if it’s missing, I won’t get a chance to judge for myself,” Max said sadly.
Teresa perked up. “You’re an expert at finding things, Max. What do you suggest?”
Max had a system. It wasn’t original and was probably used regularly by every mother on the planet, but it usually worked. “When was the last time you saw the card?”
“Last Christmas, I think,” Teresa said. “We don’t bake much these days, but we always make cookies for the holidays.”
“I see,” Max said. “And that’s the last time you had the box out?”
Fiona took more time to consider the question. “I think,” she began, her voice trailing off. “Yes. Sonia stopped by just before Thanksgiving. I brought a sweet potato pie to the senior center potluck the year before. It was one of my mother’s recipes that I had kept all these years, and I told her to stop by if she wanted to make a copy of it. I didn’t expect her to actually take me up on it.”
Max perked up. “And the card for sweet potato pie was in this box, too?”
“Yes,” Fiona said. “I went into the kitchen and got out the footstool, so I could reach the top cupboard and brought the box back into the living room with me. I pulled out the pie recipe and gave her a blank index card, so she could copy it for herself.”
“And then what?” Max prompted.
“She handed me back the card and I put it away where it belonged. You see, there are little dividers for cakes, pies, cookies, stews...” as she said this, she showed Max and Keiko the hand-written labels on the dividers. “There’s a really wonderful recipe for beef stroganoff I really have to make again. I’ll have you over for dinner and make it. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful,” Max agreed. “So back to Sonia. She gave you back the card and you put it back in the box, right?”
“Yes,” Fiona said with a nod.
“And then you put the box back in the cupboard?”
“Yes,” she began, but paused. “Well, let me think. As I was putting the recipe back, Sonia had a coughing fit. In between her coughs, she asked for some water, so I ran in the kitchen and got her some.”
“Uh-huh,” Max said. “And that’s when she stole the card for the Christmas Tea Cakes.”
Fiona gasped. “No. She wouldn’t do that. Would she?”
Max didn’t answer. She wouldn’t put it past Sonia. She was one of those women who didn’t seem to play by the rules.
“Who always comes in first place in the cookie competition?” Keiko asked, although she already knew the answer.
Teresa piped up. “Fiona wins every year.”
“What cookies does she win with?” Keiko continued.
Teresa looked at her sister and waited for her to answer. Fiona said, “The last three years, I won with Christmas Tea Cakes.”
Keiko looked confused. “You win the cookie competition with cakes?”
Teresa explained. “They’re tea cakes. Little round butter cookies covered in powdered sugar. The kids all call them Snowballs.”
“Oh,” Max exclaimed. “I love those. My mom used to let me help her make them at Christmas time. My fingers would be coated in sticky powdered sugar.”
“I gave your mom the recipe years ago. She told me she made them every year, but she always said they weren't as good as mine,” Fiona said.
“Maybe I can find it,” Max said hopefully. “Then you can still make them for the contest.” Then her hope deflated when she remembered that Sonia also had the recipe. “But what if Sonia makes them and enters them into the contest too?”
“I hope she does,” Fiona said. “Then we’ll know for sure that she’s a thief.”
“But she might win,” Keiko said. “We have to do something before the contest.”
Fiona patted Keiko’s hand. “Don’t you worry a bit. She won’t win.”
Keiko stared at Fiona not appearing to understand why she was so confident. “How can you be sure?”
“Because there’s an important piece of information that’s not in the recipe. Something you young people might call a hack.”
Max grinned. “What is it?”
“Should I tell them?” Fiona asked Teresa.
Teresa nodded. “I think we can trust these two by now, don’t you?”
“Well, you see, we have a supplier who lives in Ireland. We've known her for so long, she’s more of a friend, really. We get wonderful wool yarn from her for the shop. And every winter, she sends me four pounds of Irish butter via express mail.”
“What’s so special about Irish butter?” Keiko asked.
“That’s a very good question,” Fiona said. “Perhaps it’s the grass they eat or the air they breathe. Or perhaps their cows are a different breed. But there’s no doubting it. Their butter tastes better than anything I’ve found locally. And unless I’m sadly mistaken, Sonia’s cookies will be very, very good, but they won’t win first place.”
“Success is the best revenge?” Max said.
Fiona grinned. “Exactly.”
Christmas Tea Cakes (aka Snowball Cookies)
INGREDIENTS
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
6 Tablespoons powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
¾ cup finely chopped nuts (such as walnuts, pecans, or almonds) - optional
¼ teaspoon salt (omit if using salted butter)
Additional powdered sugar for rolling cookies in (about 1 cup)
Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Use a big spoon (preferably wooden) to cream the butter with the powdered sugar and vanilla
Stir in flour, salt, and nuts, and mix until the dough holds together
Shape into one-inch balls and place one inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet
Bake 10 to 12 minutes – they won’t be brown except on the bottom. Let cool for a 10-15 minutes on a wire rack.
Roll warm cookies in powdered sugar and allow to cool.
Roll in powdered sugar again.
Fiona’s Note One: When I say “finely” chopped nuts, I mean it! You can use a food processor if you have one, but don’t process too long or you’ll have nut butter.
Fiona’s Note Two: I always use parchment paper for my cookie sheets.
Fiona’s Note Three: They’re wonderful without nuts, too. Or, for a festive surprise, crush red and green candy canes and mix them in instead of the nuts.
Three
Keiko held up
her sticky fingers after rolling the last tea cake in powdered sugar. “You were not kidding about being coated with powdered sugar. It is like a paste. I bet it would make a good glue.”
Max washed her hands in the sink after nibbling a bit of the sugar off her fingers. “I can see why you would think so. But it would melt completely as soon as it got wet.”
“So only glue for dry things,” Fiona said mischievously. “These will be cool enough to eat soon, but in the meantime, I’ve been dying to ask what’s in the plastic container, Keiko.”
“I remembered you asked me about Japanese cookies, but the Japanese traditionally eat fruit after dinner rather than cakes or cookies.”
“No sweets?” Max asked in mock horror.
“Yes, they do have sweets, but the traditional ones are not made with cane sugar. Before westerners brought sugar to Japan, they used other things for sweeteners. Some people think they are an acquired taste, but I like them because they are not as sweet as sugary treats. I brought some for you to try. In Japan, they eat sweets with their tea rather than after dinner.”
“I like sweets with my tea,” Max said.
“You like sweets any time.” Keiko opened the box and Fiona handed her a plate to put the treats on. “I brought some Mochi and Daifuku for everyone to try.”
“Did your mother teach you how to make any of these?” Fiona asked.
“Oh, no. My mother was raised in Ohio. She taught me how to make a cake from a mix. And Jell-O mold with fruit cocktail in it.”
“I do like a good Jell-O mold,” Teresa commented.
“And your father?” Fiona prompted.
“My father moved back to Japan when I was a little girl. I hardly ever saw him, and my mother didn’t like talking about him. A few years ago, we started video chatting, so we’re closer now. I learned a lot about the Japanese culture from him and the Japanese club at college.”