Anne George - Murder Gets A Life (A Souther Sisters Mystery)

Henry wishes to thank Mary Jo Deaver for this recipe.

1 package active dry yeast

cup warm water

cup butter

2 T. sugar

2 eggs, plus 1 yolk, beaten (preserve extra white and set aside)

1 t. oregano

1 t. basil

1 cups shredded cheddar cheese

& cup chopped dried tomatoes

1 cup milk

5 cups all-purpose flour, sifted 3 times

1 t. salt

olives or feta cheese

Dissolve yeast in water. Cream butter and sugar. Add yeast, eggs, oregano, basil, cheddar cheese, dried tomatoes, and milk to the butter and sugar mixture. Add flour and salt. Knead 5 to 8 minutes on floured board; place dough in a greased bowl, covered; put in warm place and allow to rise one hour or until doubled.

Stir down risen dough, turn onto a lightly floured surface, and form into smooth loaf. Divide into about 36 balls, each the size of a large walnut.

With a finger, punch a hole in the center of each ball and put either one pimento-stuffed olive or a chunk of feta cheese in each hole; pinch closed. Place 2 balls, pinched side down, in each cup of a greased muffin tin. Mix the extra egg white with 1 T. water and brush it on the tops of the buns. Allow to rise 45 minutes to an hour until almost doubled.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Bake 7 minutes; brush again with egg-white mixture and bake another 78 minutes, or until golden brown.

Yield: 18 buns

B elieve me, Patricia Anne, my sister Mary Alice said, striding into my kitchen and plunking her purse down on the table, wedding presents arent going to be any problem. That girl doesnt have even so much as a deviled-egg dish to her name.

You could give her that one of yours that says See Rock City . The one where the eggs are toppling over Ruby Falls.

Are you crazy? Thats an antique. I bought it at the Lookout Mountain gift shop when my senior class went to Washington. Mary Alice pulled out a chair and looked up at me. What in the world are you doing?

What does it look like Im doing?

Breaking your neck.

Thats for sure. I was standing on my kitchen counter painting the cabinets, the problem being that while I am five feet one, the space between the counter and the ceiling is four six, resulting in a Hunchback of Notre Dame stance. I laid my brush across the open can of glossy white enamel, sat down on the counter, and rubbed my stiff shoulders.

Youre too old to do that, Mary Alice said. You could fall and break your hip. Im sure you have osteoporosis. Youre a prime candidate, you know. Just the other day on Good Morning America that lady doctor with the big dimples said if youre skinny, old, and white, watch out.

I enjoy painting, I said. Instant gratification. Maybe in five years when Im as old as you, Ill quit.

Mary Alice narrowed her eyes but decided to let it pass. On her last birthday, she had been sixty-six but had decided to start counting backwards. At last count, shes sixty-four. Big difference. It reminds me of that commercial where theyre celebrating Great-grandmamas one-hundredth birthday and one woman whispers cattily to another that Great-grandmama is really a hundred and one.

As I was saying, she continued, I dont think that girls got a pot to pee in.

I assume that girl is Sunshine Dabbs.

Well, of course, Mouse. Who else would I be talking about? Mary Alice got up, opened the refrigerator, and took out a pitcher of tea. You want some?

I reached behind me and handed her two glasses.

She seems very nice, though. Pretty. Sweet.

Well, of course she is. Ray wouldnt have married her if she werent.

I dont want somebody after my baby for his money.

God forbid a woman should marry for money.

Mary Alice wasnt going to let me get by with this one. Thats tacky, Patricia Anne. I loved them all and you know it! The all she was referring to were her three husbands, all of whom had been twenty-eight years older than she was, incredibly wealthy, each virile enough to impregnate her once and thoughtful enough to die neat deaths, though Roger Cranes demise on a transatlantic flight had caused a few problems.

I know you did, I admitted. Though, as Fred, my husband says, Money do help.

Then quit being tacky. She put the tea on the table. Get down off the counter and Ill tell you what Ive found out about Sunshine. You got any cookies?

I slid from the counter and looked in the bread box. Some of those wafer things.

The ones that have that stuff like lard in the middle? I love the way they coat your tongue.

I handed her the package. I thought you were on a diet.

I am. I drank one of those diet milkshakes for lunch. Thats why Im so hungry. She took several cookies and chowed down. Dont you want one? I shook my head no. Lord! Anorexia!

I didnt bother to answer that. My sister and I are proof of the possibilities that exist in a familys gene pool. Mary Alice is six feet tall, admits to weighing two fifty, and has olive skin. She used to be a brunette, but now thats subject to frequent change. I, on the other hand, am tiny, have fair, freckled skin, and hair that Sister used to call no color. Now its mostly gray unless I lose my mind and let Sister talk me into putting something on it which she does occasionally.

Have you heard from Ray? I asked.

Sister held up her hand for me to wait a minute, chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of tea before she answered. Last night. Its true.