Hot Dish Heaven: A Murder Mystery With Recipes by Jeanne Cooney Page A

around. Either someone had to start checking in on them every day, or they had to sell their home. I couldn’t stand the thought of them selling, so when my husband got the chance to become the school band director in Hallock, we packed up the kids and moved north.” Barbie waved her hands. “We didn’t expect to stay long. My husband grew up in L.A. and didn’t think he could tolerate living way up here more than a few years. But in the end, he liked it. Now my parents are long gone, the kids have flown the coop, yet we’re still here.”
    “But it’s so … desolate.”
    Barbie scowled. “You call it desolate. I consider it serene.”
    I’d insulted her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
    “I agree, it’s remote. That’s why we travel. Remember, we live here. We’re not trapped here.” A lipstick grin eked across her face. “Well, sometimes during January and February, we are.” She flailed her arms. “Just kidding. Just kidding. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. There’s a real sense of community here.” She looked to be thinking about something. “You know, I have more friends here than I did in Minneapolis. And it’s an eclectic group. Yep, up here, if the town doctor only wants to hang out with other doctors, he’ll end up pretty damn lonely.”
    Barbie polished off her first bar. “One of my best friends is a retired member of Congress. He lives down the road and splits his time between practicing law and managing his family’s hog farm. When some other friends got married last spring, he not only drew up their prenup, he slaughtered and roasted the pig for the wedding reception. These people are multi-faceted. Shit, they have to be because there’s so few of them.”
    I mentioned I’d met the local banker, who, I understood, also managed the VFW.
    “And he makes a mean margarita,” Barbie replied. “But then again, don’t all bankers?”
    With a laugh, she started in on her second bar, while I sipped lemonade and mulled over how someone like Barbie, discernibly intelligent and talented and undeniably full of spirit, could cope in this environment. She called it serene, but it was desolate. The closest Starbucks, Target, and movie theater were sixty miles away. How did she do it? I had to find out.
    “Barbie, although the people here seem really nice, I can’t help but ask how on earth …” That didn’t come out right. “It’s just that these towns are so small …” Still not right. I didn’t want to offend her again. “Barbie, don’t you miss … um … well, don’t you miss the concerts, the plays, the intellectual stimulation of city life?”
    She frantically waved her hands, as if erasing my concerns. “Like I said, we’re not trapped here. And when we lived in Minneapolis, we didn’t do much anyway.” She rested her elbows on the table and pressed her fingertips together. Her nails were short and painted a brilliant red. “Of course we always threatened to ‘trip the light fantastic.’” She emphasized the phrase with air quotes. “But when we were younger, we didn’t have the money, and when we got older, we didn’t have the energy. Hell, most nights we were too tired for sex. I swear I got pregnant the last two times only because of our mattress. It sagged in the middle, and we regularly ended up on top of each other whether we wanted to be or not.” She raised her eyes to the heavens like an innocent cherub, but I doubted there was anything innocent about her.
    “Tell me.” I truly wanted to have a serious discussion. “What changed when you moved back here?”
    “Well, first off, we got a new mattress.” So much for serious. “And second, I came to realize that the Twin Cities didn’t have the market cornered on intellectual discourse. Some of the debates around my neighbor’s campfire in Hallock are downright eye opening.” She stuck her nose in the air and fluttered her eyelashes with exaggeration. “And if it’s culture you want, my