Chapter Twenty-three
Once they got to The Cookie Jar, Michelle went up front to the coffee shop to help Lisa, and Hannah stayed in the kitchen. She knew what would be happening today, and she dreaded it. Everyone would come in to hear about Ross. They’d want to hear about Moishe and how Norman had found him, and they’d want to know how she had reacted after she’d discovered that the man she’d thought was her husband had been murdered.
Hannah didn’t want to relive the events of the previous evening, but her customers would expect Lisa to tell the story of the murder. And since Lisa hadn’t been there, it was up to Hannah to set the scene for her.
Even though it was the last thing in the world that she wanted to do, Hannah walked to the swinging door that led to the coffee shop, and pushed it open far enough to see that Lisa was behind the counter, arranging the large glass jars they used to display the day’s cookie offerings.
“Michelle?” Hannah addressed her youngest sister over her shoulder. “Will you take over out here for a few minutes? I need to speak to Lisa.”
“No problem,” Michelle answered. “I don’t have to leave for school for another hour.”
“Thanks! Lisa? I need to see you in the kitchen for a couple of minutes.”
“I’ll be right there,” Lisa promised, picking up one of the empty jars. “Do you want to sell the Molasses Crackles this morning? Or would you prefer to substitute something else?”
“The Molasses Crackles will do just fine,” Hannah told her, and then she retreated to the kitchen.
Since she knew exactly what she wanted to bake, it only took Hannah a couple of minutes to gather ingredients and put them next to the industrial-size stand mixer on the counter. By the time she’d arranged them in the order she’d need them, Lisa came in from the coffee shop.
Hannah gestured toward the work station. “Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened last night, Hannah,” Lisa said when Hannah delivered coffee for both of them and sat down on a stool. “If you don’t feel like staying and working today, just leave. Aunt Nancy and I can handle anything that comes up. And if we get really busy, all I have to do is call Marge and she’ll come right over.”
“Thanks, Lisa, but I think I’ll be all right if I stay in the kitchen and bake. We’re going to be very busy today. And I certainly won’t listen to the story you’re going to tell about the murder.”
“But, Hannah!” Lisa looked shocked. “You don’t want me to tell this story, do you?”
“Yes, I think you should. I wasn’t there when Mike and Lonnie found the body so you can’t tell that part, but you can begin when Norman and I got to the condo complex.”
“But how can I tell our customers about that if I don’t know what happened?”
“I’m going to tell you what happened right now.”
“But do you really want to talk about it?”
“Of course I don’t, but I’ve always told you exactly what happened when I found a murder victim. This time I didn’t find Ross first, but I was there later and I can describe the murder scene for you.”
“You mean you actually saw him?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone tried to keep me back, but I barged past them.”
Lisa shivered. “It must have been awful!”
“It was.”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to tell me about it?” Lisa asked, and when Hannah nodded, she asked another question. “Do you think it might help you to talk about it?”
“Maybe,” Hannah said, even though she really didn’t believe that describing what she’d found in her master bedroom would help her in the slightest.
“Okay then.” Lisa gave a little sigh. “What happened when you got home to the condo, Hannah?”
With Lisa listening attentively, Hannah described how Norman had found Moishe under the stairs and how frightened he’d been, how Delores had tried to keep her from going up the stairs, and what she’d found when she’d pushed past everyone who wanted to stop her. That was when a completely unexpected event happened.
“What is it?” Lisa asked, noticing the startled expression on Hannah’s face.
“I didn’t think describing things to you would help, but . . . it did! I always thought that was psychological nonsense, but talking to you about what I saw is . . .” Hannah stopped speaking, not sure how to describe what she was feeling.
“Is it defusing it for you?” Lisa suggested.
“Yes. Everyone kept trying to get me to talk about it last night, but I didn’t want to.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
Hannah decided to change the subject by asking the question that was uppermost in her mind. “When are you going to start telling the story?”
“I usually start about ten in the morning. Do you want me to give you a heads-up so you can put in ear plugs or something?”
Hannah laughed. “No, I’ll be all right. I’ll be busy baking so we can keep up with everyone who comes in to hear you.”
“Are you really sure that you want me to do this, Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Is there anything else I can do . . . ?”
“I don’t think there’s . . . wait! There is one thing you can do.”
“What’s that?”
“When Grandma Knudson comes in, let her listen to your story once and then ask her if she’ll come back to the kitchen. There’s something I want to ask her.”
* * *
Hannah had just finished filling the bakers rack with freshly-baked Butterscotch Chocolate Bar Cookies when she heard an authoritative knock on the back kitchen door. She rolled the bakers rack back into place by the wall, went to the door, and stopped with her hand on the knob to open it. She’d recognized the knock and she was sure it was Mike, but she looked through the peephole anyway. She was right. Mike was standing there outside the back door.
“Come in, Mike,” she said loudly enough so that he could hear it, and only then did she unlock the door and open it.
“Good girl!” Mike said, entering the kitchen and stomping the snow off his boots on the shag rug that Hannah kept there for that purpose. “I’m really glad you’re using the peephole.”
Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. When Mike had said, Good girl! it had been in the same tone of voice he would use to train a young puppy to sit or heel. “I think looking through the peephole is becoming a habit with me,” she told him.
“That’s excellent,” he said and this time it wasn’t in his puppy training voice. “Just keep doing it every time and it’ll become second nature to you.”
“I’m surprised to see you, Mike,” Hannah said, heading to the kitchen coffeepot to pour him a cup. She set it down in front of him and took her own seat at the work station. “Since I wasn’t the one who discovered Ross’s body and you and Lonnie were, you don’t really need my statement, do you?”
“No, and that’s not why I’m here.”
Hannah waited while Mike took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t have any cookies to go with this, do you, Hannah?”
Hannah’s sense of humor kicked in and she began to laugh. “Of course I do. This is a bakery, remember?”
“I know that, but you only got here twenty-five minutes ago. You didn’t have time to bake yet, did you?”
Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. Mike was right. She’d walked in the door with Michelle exactly twenty-five minutes ago. “How do you know when I got here?”
“I was parked at the other end of the alley.”
“You’re surveilling me?”
Mike shook his head. “No, of course not. I just wanted to give you time to get settled before I came in.”
Hannah noticed that Mike still looked uncomfortable. “Why did you want me settled in?” she asked him. “Is there something you want to tell me about the murder case?”
“No, I just need to assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to catch whoever did this to Ross.”
Hannah was surprised that Mike thought she needed reassurance on that point. “I know you will, Mike. You’re a very good detective.”
“Thanks, but this is a little different. This time we won’t be comparing notes like we usually do.”
You mean you won’t be pumping me for information? Hannah’s suspicious mind prompted her, but Hannah bit back the urge to ask that question.
“I mean that this time, of course, you won’t be . . . uh . . . actively involved.”
“I won’t?”
Mike began to frown. “No, you won’t. You’re too close to this situation, Hannah. You can’t be objective.”
“No, but I’ve never been objective,” Hannah retorted, feeling her ire begin to rise. “I wouldn’t get involved at all if I didn’t care about the victim.”
“But Ross hurt you. He betrayed you, Hannah. The guy was a liar and louse!”
Hannah began to smile. “And you’re claiming that you’re objective after saying something like that?”
“Well . . . no. Not entirely. But I know how to curb my emotions and conduct myself in a rational manner.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You’re not trained to do anything like that. Besides . . .” Mike looked as if he wished he hadn’t started this conversation, but he continued it anyway. “You don’t owe Ross anything, Hannah. Ross treated you like dirt. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d killed him yourself!”
“Does that mean that I’m a suspect?” Hannah asked, even though she knew she wasn’t.
“No! Not at all! You were with Norman and he’s corroborated that. It’s just that you don’t have to help to catch Ross’s killer. There’s no reason for you to do that for him.”
“Well, I’m going to investigate anyway and I’m not doing it for Ross. I’m doing it for me!”
Mike stared at her for a moment and then he gave a resigned sigh. “I knew nothing I could say would do any good,” he said in such a sorrowful tone that Hannah came close to feeling a bit sorry for him. “I wish you wouldn’t get involved, Hannah. I just wish you’d . . . go on vacation or something. Go somewhere else and try to forget you ever met the guy.”
Hannah knew that Mike was only trying to help her, but she held firm. “Thanks, Mike, but I have to stay here. I can’t go off to Aruba, or somewhere when I don’t know who killed Ross and why he was murdered. I have to help you find out and I have to do it for myself.”
Mike thought about that for a moment and then he sighed again. “All right. I guess there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.”
“That’s right. So are we going to work together? Or will I be forced to leave you in the dust?”
The silence between them was much longer this time, but finally Mike nodded. “My dad used to say that if you can’t beat ’em, you might as well join ’em.”
“Your father was a wise man,” Hannah said, getting up from her stool to freshen Mike’s coffee and fill a plate with cookies. “Here you go,” she said, setting the plate in front of him. “I don’t suppose you have the autopsy report in yet.”
Mike took a cookie and bit into it. Then he sipped his coffee. “I have it,” he said at last. “What do you want to know?”
“The time of death,” Hannah said, hoping that her voice was as strong as she wanted it to be.
“Doc says between noon and five p.m.”
“What time did you get to my condo?”
“A little after three. The door was standing open so I knew right away that something was wrong.”
“And you noticed that Moishe was missing?”
Mike nodded. “At first I figured that he was under the bed, but when I looked, he wasn’t there. And since the closet was open, I could see that he wasn’t hiding in there either.”
Hannah shivered slightly, imagining the scene when Mike had arrived at her condo. “Did you look for Moishe?”
“Not right then. I couldn’t. I called Lonnie and when he got there, I sent him out to search for Moishe.”
“You didn’t go with him?”
“I couldn’t. I had to stay with . . .” Mike hesitated, and Hannah knew he was searching for words that would have less emotional impact than using Ross’s name. “I positioned myself at your bedroom doorway,” he continued, “and I called Doc from there. He got there in less than twenty minutes and your mother came, too.”
“But you didn’t let Mother come upstairs, did you?”
“No. Doc told her to stay outside and help Lonnie search for Moishe.”
Hannah thought about Mike standing guard at her bedroom doorway, waiting there for Lonnie and Doc to arrive. She had been in his position before, staying at the scene of a murder and waiting for Mike to arrive. She knew exactly how difficult it was to stay there, not touching anything that might turn out to be evidence, and doing nothing but thinking about what had happened to the victim.
“Don’t you ever wish you did something else like working at a desk job instead of what you do now?” she asked him.
“Sometimes. Murder scenes are always bad and some are worse than others. But after the coroner and the crime scene guys get there, I can start my real work.”
“Catching the murderer?”
“Yes. There’s real satisfaction when I solve a case and catch a killer.”
Hannah thought about that and she gave a little nod of agreement. “I understand perfectly. And I really hope we’re successful this time.”
“We will be. I won’t stop working until I get him. Or her.”
“Do you think the killer could be a woman?”
“Maybe. I never rule anything out.” Mike took another cookie and devoured it. “What else do you want to know from me, Hannah?”
“I’d like to know why my closet doors were open. I distinctly remember closing them before I left for work.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. One door was stuck and it wouldn’t close until I pulled out one of Moishe’s mouse toys that had gotten stuck in the track. I tossed it to him and he ran out to the living room to hide it there.”
“You don’t suppose Moishe could have . . .” Mike stopped speaking in mid-thought. “No, of course he couldn’t have pulled all those clothes and boxes out into the bedroom.”
“I knew what you were thinking and you’re right. Moishe couldn’t have done it, not if there were boxes pulled out on the floor. I had things that were packed in boxes, but the boxes were all on the top closet shelf.”
“Okay. If you’re sure you closed the closet doors, then either the victim or his killer was looking for something hidden in your closet. You didn’t leave any boxes of clothes on the bedroom floor, did you?”
“No. I always put things away when I leave the bedroom in the morning.”
“Then whoever it was assumed that something was hidden in your closet or in one of your dresser drawers. And whoever it was didn’t take the time to put anything back.” Mike frowned slightly. “You didn’t notice the mess on the carpet, Hannah?”
“I don’t remember if I did or not. The only thing I remember clearly was the bed. And . . . him. That’s all.”
“You’re sure?”
Even though she didn’t want to relive those painful moments, Hannah thought back to her first sight of the bedroom. “If I saw the things on the floor, my mind didn’t process it.”
“All right. Is there anything that you normally keep in your bedroom that either Ross or the killer might have wanted?”
“The money!” Hannah gasped, the answer hitting her squarely in her solar plexus. “I think someone was searching for the money! Remember when Doug told us he didn’t think Ross believed him when he claimed that he never kept the large amount of money that Ross wanted in the bank safe? That’s when Ross accused Doug of giving the money to me.”
“Exactly.” Mike reached out to give her a little pat on the back. “That was the first thing that occurred to me. It could have been the money, but it also could have been something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like something Ross left behind in your bedroom, something he needed to take with him when he left.”
“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “It could even be something he hid in my bedroom on purpose and he planned to come back for it later.”
“That’s possible, too. Did you clean out your closet, or reorganize it, or anything like that after Ross left?”
“No. I didn’t have the heart or the time to do that. And don’t forget that, at least at first, I expected him to come back any day. I just closed his side of the closet and didn’t even open it while he was gone, and then, when I realized that he probably wasn’t coming back, I felt so betrayed, I didn’t want to see anything that reminded me of him.”
“That’s understandable, Hannah. It was a very painful time for you. I felt that way on a smaller scale when my wife was killed. I didn’t want to look at her clothes and remember. It was over six months before I was able to pack them up and give them to charity.”
Mike looked so sad that Hannah knew she had to change the subject. “Do you think that I should go back to the condo and look to see if I notice anything that’s missing?”
“Eventually, yes. Right now your condo is still off-limits to everyone. The crime scene team is lifting fingerprints and it’s going to take them a while.”
Hannah gave a little groan. Her condo would be an absolute mess when the crime scene people got through. She’d gone through this once before when Connie Mac was killed in her walk-in cooler and she’d needed to run countless loads of baking pans, cookie sheets, and mixing bowls through her industrial dishwasher to make sure they were free of fingerprint powder.
“I know they leave a mess,” Mike said, accurately reading her thoughts. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. They have to be thorough, and they may find something that’ll help to catch the killer.”
“I know. It’s okay, Mike. Do you have a crime scene photo of my closet, one that doesn’t show . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and took a deep, calming breath. “. . . that doesn’t show . . . him?”
“Yes, I’ve got one,” Mike said. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a photo, and handed it to her. “Here. It doesn’t show anything else, Hannah. I won’t give you those.”
“You don’t have to. I remember.” Hannah took the photo from Mike and studied it. “The boxes on the floor were on the top shelf when I left for work in the morning. Whoever did this pulled them down, took off the lids, and dumped them out. Then they pawed through the contents and just left them on the floor. Ross must have done it. It couldn’t have been the killer.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ross was . . . shot, wasn’t he?” Hannah paused to take another deep breath. “And then the killer would have wanted to get out of my condo right after he shot him. He wouldn’t have taken the time to take down those boxes and dump them out. He’d be much more concerned about getting away before anyone realized that the noise they’d heard was a gunshot and they called the police.”
“Yes, Hannah, he was shot. You make a good point about the noise, but everything changes if the killer used a silencer.”
“Did he?”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no way to tell by just looking.”
“Do you know the caliber of the bullet? The ballistics report hasn’t come in yet?”
“Not yet. I’ll tell you when it does.”
“So we really don’t know anything except that Ross was murdered and Ross needed a hundred thousand dollars in cash for some reason.”
“That’s about it. This is going to be a challenge, Hannah.”
Both of them were silent then, sipping their coffee and thinking. When the plate of cookies was as empty as their coffee cups, Mike said goodbye and left. Hannah locked the back kitchen door behind him, walked directly to the drawer where she kept her blank shorthand notebooks, and took one out. Then she sat down at the work station and began to write down the suspects she already had in Ross’s murder case.
* * *
“Hannah.” Grandma Knudson came into the kitchen. “How are you?”
“Still a little shaky, but I’m all right. Have you told anyone about your new hearing aids yet?”
“Not yet. I will eventually though. You want to know if I’ve heard anything, don’t you, Hannah?”
“Yes. Someone killed Ross and I have to find out who did it and why.”
“Of course you do. It’s that insatiable curiosity of yours. That drives you as much as your thirst for justice.” Grandma Knudson smiled. “You’re a good person, Hannah. And before you ask me, I didn’t do it.”
Hannah was shocked. “I never thought that you did!”
“What a pity. I’d like to think that I might be capable of a bold action like that. But no, Hannah, I haven’t heard anyone in town mention anything about it. Everyone’s speculating just like you and Mike are.”
“Carrie was worried about Earl because he carried a rifle and a handgun on his snowplow.”
“Do you suspect Earl?”
“Not really. I talked to him and I don’t think he’d be that violent. But there’s always the possibility that I’m wrong.”
“What time was Ross shot, Hannah?”
“Doc says between noon and five p.m., but since Mike arrived at my condo at a little past three, we know that the time of death was between noon and three.”
“Then Earl didn’t do it.”
“How do you know? Earl said he wished that Ross would come back to Lake Eden so that he could teach Ross a permanent lesson.”
Grandma Knudson laughed. “Earl talks a good game, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Have you heard the story about the bobcat he shot?”
“Yes. Carrie mentioned it when she told me about the firearms that Earl carried on his snowplow.”
“Earl loves that story, but he told me the truth about the whole incident.”
Hannah was surprised. “Earl didn’t shoot the bobcat?”
“Earl shot over the bobcat.”
“You mean . . . he didn’t actually kill the bobcat.”
“I mean Earl didn’t hit the bobcat at all. He just fired over the bobcat’s head to scare it away from the snowplow. There’s no way Earl killed Ross. The worst he’d do if he ran into Ross would be to hit Ross’s car with his snowplow and run him off the road.”
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know! But still . . . sometimes people do terrible things in the heat of the moment and regret it later.”
“True, but Earl was nowhere near your condo complex when Ross was murdered.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he was up on our street at a quarter to one, plowing out the church parking lot, and there’s no way he could have killed Ross at noon and gotten back to town in the snowplow that fast. I looked out the window at twelve forty-five and saw him working on the church parking lot. And he’d already cleared the street that runs past the church. After that, Earl cleared our circular driveway at the parsonage and he didn’t finish until one-thirty.”
“But he still could have driven out to my condo and killed Ross before three.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your math, Hannah. You just don’t know the whole story. After Earl cleared our parsonage driveway, I went out and invited him in for coffee. Earl was really cold. There’s a heater on the snowplow, but the wind was blowing and it’s an open cab. His feet stay warm, but the snow blows in when he’s plowing.”
“Did Earl tell you that?” Hannah asked, wondering if that was accurate.
“No, Carrie did. She tapes cardboard over the inside of the cab when she rides with Earl.”
That was good enough for Hannah and she quickly revised her timetable. “How long did Earl stay at the parsonage?” she asked.
Grandma Knudson smiled. It was what Delores would have termed the smile on the cat that got into the cream pot in one of her Regency romance novels.
“I gave Earl coffee and since he’d been out there in the cold since morning, I convinced him to have a tot of my homemade rhubarb wine with it. I make my own, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“There’s no reason you should. I don’t advertise it, or I’d have a lot more visitors at the parsonage. Rhubarb wine used to be my husband’s favorite treat. Every time he ate ice cream, he wanted my rhubarb wine poured over the top as syrup.”
Hannah started to grin. “You’re a woman of many talents, Grandma Knudson.”
“That’s exactly what he used to say! And Earl said it yesterday afternoon, right after his third glass. When he left me, he told me that he was going to Granny’s Attic to pick up Carrie because he’d given her a ride to town on his snowplow. And since Carrie had always wanted to drive his snowplow, he thought he might let her drive him home.”
“So Carrie was with Earl after he left you?”
Grandma Knudson nodded. “Lisa said they came in for coffee before they left for home and Earl ordered two coffees to go. That was past three, so Earl couldn’t have killed Ross.”
“You’re right,” Hannah admitted, reaching for her murder book and flipping to Earl’s page. She crossed out that page with a big x-mark and flipped to the next page.
“How about Bud Hauge?” she asked. “You told me you heard him say something about teaching Ross a lesson after my talk at church on Sunday.”
“He did, but Bud is all bark and no bite. Besides, he’s hobbling around on crutches. There’s no way he could have made it up your outside staircase.”
“What happened to Bud?”
“I’m not sure. All I heard was that it had something to do with a revival of the limbo at the Golden Eagle and Bud came in third.”
Two down, one to go, Hannah said to herself. She almost hated to ask and nullify her whole suspect list, but she had to know.
“How about Hal McDermott? You told me that he was pretty hot under the collar about Ross at the social hour after Sunday’s church services. Do you think it’s possible that he’s involved?”
“Hal’s got a temper on him, but I don’t think he has anything to do with it. You’d better check with Rose. I think Hal’s weekly poker game was yesterday afternoon and he wouldn’t miss one of those. Rose told me that Hal lost last week to Al Percy and he vowed to win it all back this week.”
Hannah was surprised. “I knew they played poker, but I thought it was just for chips or something like that. I never realized that real money was at stake.”
“Well, it is, but it’s only penny ante. Rose said Hal lost four dollars and seventy cents, but money’s not the issue.”
“Then what’s the issue?” Hannah asked her.
“It’s ego. Hal wants to hang on to his title as the best poker player in Lake Eden. Hal wouldn’t miss that poker game, Hannah. And I’d bet real money on that, not just pennies!”
“I understand,” Hannah said. “It’s not the money at stake in Hal’s poker games, it’s the honor.”
“Honor’s not the only thing. The weekly winner gets a free dessert every day from Rose. And that reminds me . . .” Grandma Knudson stopped talking and reached down to pull a box out of the tapestry tote bag she always carried. “These are for you,” she said, handing the box to Hannah. “It’s a little like carrying coals to Newcastle, but I thought you’d like them.”
Hannah lifted the lid on the box and began to laugh. “Cookies!” she exclaimed.
“Yes. It was my mother’s recipe and I just found it in one of her recipe boxes. They’re called Forgotten Cookies.”
“That’s a great name,” Hannah commented. “Is the name because you forgot that your mother made them?”
“Not exactly. Have one now and tell me if you like them. And if you do, I wrote out the recipe and it’s in that little envelope on top.”
Hannah took a cookie and bit into it. It was made of meringue and it melted in her mouth. “Wonderful!” she said, popping the rest of the cookie into her mouth.
“Read the recipe,” Grandma Knudson suggested. “I don’t know if it’ll work in your industrial oven, but it can’t hurt to try it. And if you can’t make them here, you can make them at home.”
Hannah read through the recipe and then she laughed. “I think I understand why they’re called Forgotten Cookies now.”
“That’s right. The name’s appropriate because if you use your oven for supper, you just mix up these cookies, put them on a sheet, and stick them in the oven. Then you turn off the oven, forget about them, and they’ll be baked and ready to eat in the morning.”
FORGOTTEN COOKIES
Preheat oven to 400 F., rack in the middle position.
(Make these cookies right before bedtime and they’ll be ready to eat in the morning. They must be in the oven at least 4 hours and overnight is fine, too.)
Hannah’s 1st Note: This recipe is from Aunt Nancy’s friend, Judy Baer.
2 egg whites (save the yolks in a covered container in the refrigerator and add them to scrambled eggs in the morning)
¾ cup white (granulated) sugar
pinch of salt (a pinch is the amount of salt you can pick up from a salt cellar and hold between your thumb and your forefinger)
6-ounce (by weight) package (about 1 cup) mini chocolate chips
1 cup finely chopped pecans
Prepare your cookie sheet by lining it with parchment paper.
Place the egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer and beat them until they are foamy.
Continue to beat while adding the white sugar by Tablespoons, sprinkling in the sugar over the very foamy egg whites.
Add the pinch of salt and beat until the egg whites are very stiff. (You are making a meringue.)
Once the egg whites are stiff enough to hold a peak when you shut off the mixer and test them, shut off the mixer and take out the bowl.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: Test for stiff peaks by shutting off the mixer, dipping the rounded back of a spoon into the beaten egg whites and pulling it up. If the peak that forms is stiff, you are done beating.
Sprinkle in the chocolate chips and gently fold them in with a rubber spatula, being careful not to lose any air.
Hannah’s 3rd Note: “Folding” is done by inserting the blade of the rubber spatula into the center of the bowl, turning it to the flat side and “shoveling” the stiff egg whites up to cover part of the chips. Turn the bowl and repeat this action until you have pulled up all the egg whites from the bottom and have covered all of the chips.
Add the finely chopped pecans to the top of the bowl and fold them in by the same method you used with the chocolate chips.
Give the mixing bowl one more very gentle stir with the spatula.
Place your prepared cookie sheet next to your cookie bowl and transfer the dough by heaping teaspoons to the parchment paper.
Hannah’s 4th Note: One standard-size cookie sheet will hold all the Forgotten Cookies if you place them about an inch apart.
If your oven has reached the proper temperature, quickly open the door, slip in the cookies, and close it again.
TURN OFF THE OVEN and DO NOT OPEN the oven door again until you get up in the morning.
Yield: 1 to 2 dozen melt-in-your-mouth cookies, depending on cookie size.
