A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) by Isis Crawford Page B

later when they hit Park Street, at which point Libby extended an olive branch.
    “I hope this stops soon,” she said, pointing to an overhead power line that was bowed under the weight of the ice.
    “But it is beautiful,” Bernie commented. “You have to admit that. The ice makes everything look magical.”
    Libby snorted. “Yeah, but that’s not going to help if the power goes out. I think we need a backup generator in the shop,” Libby said, continuing with her original train of thought.
    “Agreed,” Bernie told her. Libby was right. A power outage at the shop would be a disaster. They’d lose thousands of dollars’ worth of ingredients. Better not to think about it, Bernie decided, so she changed the subject. “I wonder what Millie wants to talk to us about?”
    “She probably wants to know about her cookies,” Libby said, her eyes glued to the road as she slowly glided through a stop sign because it was safer than stopping. At this point she felt as if she were driving a large, lumbering beast.
    Bernie brushed a lock of hair that had come loose from her ponytail off her forehead. “What are we going to tell her?”
    Libby sighed. “Good question.”
    “She’s going to be very upset when we tell her we can’t find them.”
    “That is an understatement,” Libby observed. She was definitely not looking forward to this.
    Neither sister spoke again until they’d pulled into the hospital parking lot.
    “We’re here,” Libby announced as she shoehorned Mathilda into the parking space that was the nearest vacant one to the door and turned off the van. It shuddered to a stop after making an awful grinding noise. “I guess she doesn’t like this weather either,” Libby observed.
    “Who does?” Bernie replied.
    As she looked at the building, she thought about the fact that neither she nor Libby had been here since their mother had broken her arm—that is, unless she counted the time the three-year-old she had been babysitting for had squeezed half a tube of toothpaste into her ear. God, what a nightmare that had been. Who would have thought that anyone could even do something like that? She certainly hadn’t. It had been the last time she’d babysat. Not that anyone had asked her since then.
    “At least it’s not sleeting anymore,” Libby said.
    “I’m not sure this is much better,” Bernie said as the wind blew the rain sideways. She watched as a gust of wind plastered a newspaper against the hospital’s foundation plantings. “Maybe we shouldn’t have asked Marvin and Dad to run out.”
    “They’ll be fine,” Libby assured her. “Marvin told me he’s taking the hearse.”
    Bernie laughed. “Dad will be so pleased.” She flipped up her hood. “We have to go.”
    “Absolutely,” Libby agreed, putting her hood up as well. “Amber’s waiting.”
    But the two women continued to sit there. They’d hit a wall. They were cold and wet and tired and finding it difficult to move.
    “On the count of three,” Bernie said.
    “Make that five,” Libby said. “Or better yet, ten.”
    “Five,” Bernie said.
    “Okay. Five,” Libby grudgingly conceded.
    Bernie began counting down. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”
    At which point Libby and Bernie threw open their respective doors and ran into the hospital lobby.
    “It really is awful out there,” Bernie said as she pushed her hood back and followed Libby to the elevator. “Do we know where we’re going?”
    “We do.” Libby showed her the text Amber had sent her while they were in transit.
    Amber was pacing up and down outside the ICU when Libby and Bernie walked up the corridor. One look at Amber’s face and Bernie knew.
    “I think we’re too late,” she whispered to Libby.
    “I think so too,” Libby whispered back as Amber came rushing up to them.
    “Millie’s gone,” Amber told them, tears pouring down her face.
    Bernie and Libby reached over and hugged Amber to them.
    “She made me promise you would find her