My favorite cookie is the cookie I’m eating at the moment.
If God gave Dad Alzheimer’s, He’s got to understand when Dad forgets what church he belongs to.
Minnesotans who bought scenic art usually avoided winter scenes. Hannah didn’t find that surprising. Minnesota winters were long. Why would they want to buy a painting that would constantly remind them of the bone-chilling cold, the heavy snow that had to be shoveled, and the necessity of dressing up in survival gear to do nothing more than take out the garbage?
There was no greater gift than making someone laugh. People who laughed were happy.
On the one hand, it was nice to have someone who was concerned about you. But on the other hand, you couldn’t ever feel truly independent. Marriage was a trade-off. You gave up some things and you gained others.
Solving crimes certainly wasn’t as easy as they made it seem in the movies.
Good Friends are like sunshine. A day is gloomy without them.
Make sure you wear something appropriate, dear. You never know who you’ll run into and it’s always smart to look your best.
There was something wonderful about a blank sheet of notepaper. The lines were there, just waiting to be filled, and the page could turn into anything from a grocery list to the opening of The Great American Novel. The possibilities were endless.
It was the sound of something heavy striking something composed of flesh and bone. Hannah wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. And her blood ran cold.
M onday morning came earlier than Hannah anticipated. It arrived at four-thirty in the morning when she rolled over on what felt like small boulders in her bed and discovered that Moishe had brought her the contents of his food bowl during the night.
Next to coffee, chocolate was her favorite aroma.
Conversation over coffee tended to be candid and invited confidences.
The next time you come to the Cookie Jar, the coffee’s on me. You could probably bottle that stuff of yours and sell it for rat poison.
It seemed that people could walk through life without causing a ripple, leading ordinary and uneventful lives. It was only after they’d been murdered that people took notice of them.
I can be nice on occasion,” Mike said.
She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake.
Thunder sounded again, low and rumbling like the growl of some predatory beast. Hannah.
No, but it’s almost as bad as that. I need to calm down, Hannah. Do you have any chocolate?” “You’ve come to the house of endorphins, the source of the Dark Chocolate River, the heart of the Milk Chocolate Valley, and the foothills of the White Chocolate Mountains.
Chocolate’s not seasonal. It’s good any time of the year. Chocolate’s like oxygen. It’s elemental.