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just deny it.”
    â€œThen what do you think I should do?”
    â€œJust announce your engagement to Norman, and that’ll leave the field clear for her with Mike. I bet that within two weeks she decides the bakery is too much work for her and she closes it.”
    Hannah laughed. She couldn’t help it. Accepting her mother’s advice was a bit like accepting Moishe’s offer to baby-sit for a lizard. It was bound to end up in disaster. “Forget it, Mother. For one thing, Norman hasn’t asked me to marry him. And for another thing, I’m not sure I’d accept if he did. The best thing for me to do is hang on and hope for the best.”
    â€œI suppose you’re right”—Delores gave a little laugh—“but it was worth a try. I’d love to see you married to Norman. Mike’s all wrong for you. But I do wish there was something I could do to help you stay in business. Can you think of anything?”
    â€œNothing that’s not illegal.” Hannah gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry, Mother. Things’ll work out, one way or another.”
    Once Delores had signed off, Hannah hung up and returned to her now-lukewarm coffee. The situation at The Cookie Jar was dire, but she didn’t want her mother to know precisely how dire.
    In desperation last night, Hannah had placed a call to a lender she’d seen advertised on television. OneDay Lenders promised cash within twenty-four hours if you had equity in a house or a condo, and all Hannah had to do was call back after nine o’clock this morning and OneDay’s automated system would tell her whether it was a go, or a no. If it was a go, they could hang on for a while longer. If it was a no, Hannah had enough savings to keep them afloat for another two weeks and then they’d have to close shop.
    Hannah sipped her coffee and watched the clock. Eight fifty-six. Four minutes to go. She turned to survey the row of empty glass cookie jars on the counter, wishing they were full of freshly baked cookies and there were customers to eat them. Then she glanced back at the clock again. It was still eight fifty-six. Her Grandma Ingrid had been fond of saying that a watched pot never boiled. Was it also true that a watched clock never ticked? And if time flew when you were having fun, did it stall out when you were miserable?
    â€œOh boy!” Hannah muttered, getting up to pour fresh coffee in her mug. Pondering weighty questions like this before downing at least four cups of coffee was risky. On her way back to her stool, she glanced up at the clock again. Eight fifty-eight. Time was passing. All she had to do was kill two more minutes and she could call.
    The next two minutes seemed to pass with the speed of epochs, but at last the big hand was on the twelve and the small hand was on the nine. Hannah waited until the second hand had clicked off another thirty and then she dialed the number for OneDay Lenders. The moment her call connected, a recorded voice resounded in her ear. Your call is very important to us. Our automated loan approval line is in use at the moment, but please remain on the line and your call will be connected in the order in which it was received.
    While Hannah waited for her turn to come, she thought about that recorded voice. Was it true that some grandmother in Iowa had recorded almost all of the messages that companies used on their automated telephone services? And if it was true, did she get residuals like actors whose shows were rerun on television? What would she have carved on her tombstone, Please hold and a representative will be with you shortly ?
    At four minutes past nine, her call was connected and Hannah punched in the number she’d been given the night she called. And the same recorded voice spoke in her ear, I’m sorry, but your loan has not been approved. More documentation is needed before OneDay can process your request. Please call the following