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he’d been a token father.
    When she spoke, Earleen’s voice was resigned. “I’ve been over Larry for a long time,” she explained. “Much as I loved him, all I can say is that it’s a good thing he left when he did. Larry was trouble. More trouble than I knew what to do with.”
    More trouble than Earleen deserved, Emma reflected.
    “Is there anything else I can tell you?” Earleen asked. She seemed eager to finish the interview. “I didn’t mean to talk so much about my past. I never could figure out men—but I know a whole lot about fruitcake.”
    Emma scanned her notes. “I think I’ve got everything I need for now.”
    After snapping a picture of Earleen and collecting the recipe, she asked, “Can I call you later if I have any questions?”
    “Oh, sure. Since I retired from The Drunken Owl, I’m here most of the time.”
    “Would you mind if I used your phone book?” Emma stood and gathered up her things. “I want to call a taxi to take me back to the airport.”
    “You don’t need to do that.” Earleen shook her head. “I’ll drive you. It’s not far and I have errands I need to run, anyway.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I am. It’s my pleasure.”
    Emma smiled her gratitude. She already knew that Walt wasn’t going to reimburse her for any taxi fare, and it was too close to the end of the month for unnecessary spending on her part.
    Earleen backed her twenty-year-old Subaru out of the garage and Emma got inside. The contrast between the interior of Earleen’s vehicle and the furnace company van was noteworthy in itself.
    Ten minutes later, Earleen dropped Emma at the airport and after a few words of farewell, drove off.
    As soon as Emma climbed out of the Subaru, Oliver came from the building next to the hangar, with Oscar trotting behind him.
    “You done?”
    Emma nodded absently, wondering how to structure her article on Earleen. Start with her childhood or her wedding or—
    “How’d it go?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
    She stared at him, eyes narrowed. “In case you didn’t know it, men can be real scum.”
    To her surprise, Oliver grinned. “You’re going to have even more reason to think so when you hear what I’ve got to say.”
    This didn’t sound promising. “You’d better tell me,” she said.
    Oliver buried his hands in his pockets. “Blame me if you want, but it won’t make any difference. We’re grounded.”
    “Grounded?” She blinked. “What does that mean?”
    “We’re grounded,” he repeated. “Because of the weather. We’re stuck in Yakima.”

Earleen’s Masterpiece Fruitcake
    2 cups sugar
    1 cup butter
    2 ½ cups applesauce
    2 eggs, beaten
    2 cups raisins
    2 cups walnuts, chopped
    4 cups flour
    1 tsp. salt
    1 tbsp. soda
    1 tsp. baking powder
    1 tsp. cloves
    1 tsp. nutmeg
    2 tsp. cinnamon
    2 pounds candied dried fruit mix
    1 ½ cups chopped dates
    Cream sugar and butter. Add beaten eggs and applesauce. Mix flour, salt, spices, soda and baking powder, then gradually add to other ingredients. Mix well. Blend in candied fruit, dates, raisins and nuts. Mixture will be stiff. Bake in 325-degree oven in two loaf pans for one hour.
    Cool and remove fruitcake from pans. Cut a piece of cheesecloth to fit and soak in 1/2 cup rum or brandy. Pour any remaining alcohol over the fruitcake. Wrap fruitcake in cheesecloth and then cellophane, followed by aluminum foil. Store in refrigerator for up to three months.

Chapter Four
    “T his is a bad joke—isn’t it?” Emma cried. “Oh, please tell me it’s a joke.”
    “Sorry.”
    From his darkening scowl, Emma could see he wasn’t pleased about this turn of events, either. He’d obviously enjoyed giving her the bad news but he wasn’t grinning anymore. A delay probably affected his bottom line. Oscar sat down next to Oliver and stared up at him confidently. She’d heard somewhere that a man was always a hero to his dog; that was certainly the case with poor deluded Oscar.
    “I mentioned