Ellen Returns!

Okay, loyal few, I've edited and formatted my other complete story, "Ellen Bartelle, Woman of Mystery".  You can scroll down the sidebar and click on it to reread.  I definitely have to write another adventure for my famous over-indulgent Seattle detective!  Hope you enjoy the read!

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 10

Fear not, dear readers, Hannistina is about to make yet another stunning entrance.  To catch up from last time, check out Part 9.



Chapter 5: The Other Woman 

Two weeks had gone by, and all was well.  Hannistina's chili was a hit in the bakery, Reedsler was pushing their Dad to help with Hannistina's shop, and then 
there was Dudley.  Wonderful Dudley, with his shy smile and outgoing waistline 
had captivated her thoughts.  

"How odd..." she pondered, "How odd that I haven't ever noticed how handsome he 
really is."  For alas, his beauty of character cast him in a rosy glow for 
Hannistina.  Instead of the balding, plump, perpetually sweaty man which most 
people saw, Hannistina saw only the beauty of his chocolate colored eyes, his 
finely chiseled nose, his even teeth...he was the true man of her dreams. 

She was beginning to map out a scheme to win her heart's desire.  Menus poured 
forth out of her imagination, she'd taken to wearing pastel lip gloss, she had 
even bought him an apron with a Hershey's kiss on it, hoping he'd take the hint, 
to no avail.  She had blushed when she gave it to him, but he hadn't noticed.  
Had he truly forgiven her?  Was he no longer interested?  Or was there something 
holding him back?  She had no idea, but her determination knew no bounds. 

It was in this frame of mind that Hannistina skipped out her door toward 
Dudley's shop, arms full of bread pans she had borrowed as an excuse to come 
over yesterday.  She smiled to herself as her carefully hairsprayed curls 
ornamented her shoulders.  

"I'll tell him my bread didn't turn out and ask him to show me how to knead properly," she plotted "then I'll have lots of time to tell him about my new plans for the shop."  One more happy sigh brought her to the bakery door.  With some difficulty she maneuvered the door open, using her hip to swing open some entrance space.  She entered with a small giggle, then stopped dead in her tracks, for there, drinking iced mocha with Dudley was an unfamiliar woman.  What's more, Dudley was grinning and laughing with her!  

Hannistina's heart stopped, tears welled at her eyes, and she was unable to move 
or speak.  The woman, whose pin-straight hair she had been staring at, slowly 
turned toward Hannistina, unflinchingly locking eyes with her.  She carefully 
examined the curls, bread pans, plain jeans, and sensible tennis shoes before 
the terrible smirk snuck onto her lipstick slathered lips.  Her shadowed eyes 
held a glint of triumph. 

Hannistina heard the crash before she even knew the pans had slipped from her hands.  The clatter resounded in the bakery and every head snapped to attention.  All the eyes joined the eyes of the unknown women in silent judgment.  Only Dudley seemed sympathetic.  He jumped to her rescue.  "Oh, Hannistina, let me help you with that.  This is all my fault, I should have opened the door for you.  Oh, here let me get that . . . "  His comforting words began to sooth her embarrassment.  

"No, you were busy Dudley.  I'm sorry that I've interrupted."  Hannastina baited for an explanation.

"Yes, I was meeting from my good friend from Pastry School.  You know, I had I crush on her back then.  Let me introduce you to the famous Miss Praline DeVine.  You know, she is considering an offer from Food Network to televise her local show, 'The Hand That Sets The Table'."  Dudley turned with his face aglow to introduce Miss Praline, and Hannastina realized that his crush had not ended in Pastry School.

Miss Praline DeVine sat with her perfect posture and her gleaming hair glistening in the glint of the morning light.  She gracefully stood and took some of the pans from Dudley's hands, "Here let me be of service to you, Dudley."  Her smile made Dudley's rosy glow flame to a flaming rose color.  She turned and said, "Why, you must be Hannistina Hershey.  Dudley has told me all about you.  Only you could turn every head with your entrance.  My your hair is beautiful.  Your curls are refreshingly innocent, the picture of youth."

Hannistina struggled to find a fitting reply, "It's so nice to meet you.  Dudley has told me nothing of you," was what came out of her mouth. 


Jeepers!  Now what will she do?  Striking at her curls was such a low blow.  Stay tuned for the next intriguing plot twist!

Attention Readers: FYI

I just thought my faithful few ought to know that I've decided to transfer my installment stories to one place to make it easier to go back and read them all at once.  Of course, I'm probably the only person alive interested in doing this, but just in case...

Here is the first story I wrote, Treacherous Waters.  It's my not-too-long modern Pygmalian story, and after rereading it, I find it completely hilarious.  Maybe when I'm old and gray and have nothing better to do, I'll expand it into a full novel for my own amusement.  Anyway, to read the story in full, scroll down the left sidebar to the "Pages" label and click on Treacherous Waters.  It won't take much time to read, and the random one liners and former words of the week will tickle your fancy.

PS--This story is about as romantic as I get in my writing, so don't get too emotionally involved!

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 9

I'm sure you've all bitten your fingernails to nubs by now in anticipation of this new installment.  Wait no more, my fingernail-less friends.  If you want to catch up on the previous installment, click Part 8.   PS...this is my other favorite part of the story...


Chapter 4:  Reedsler Steps In

Her heart had wings.  She all but flew out the door of the shop and to the curb. There are certain moments in your life when you are so happy you can only express yourself through a hop or a dance.  Thus it was that Hannistina's nimble feet began twirling her in circles as eloquently as Fred Astaire had twirled Ginger Rogers in the lovely old movies which were as regular a habit for her as Weight Watchers enrollments.  Her exuberance got the better of her, and she continued spinning across the street, singing a somewhat out of tune version of "My Favorite Thing.

On and on she went, spinning and singing, raising her hands up to the marshmallowy clouds. 

"Warm paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite....".  

A piercing scream ripped through the bakery-scented air.  Tires squealed to a halt just inches from the largest poodle on Hannistina's pajama top.  There they stood staring at each other, Hannistina and that strangely familiar car, then he stepped out. 
  
"Uh-huh," (he spit out his gum right there in the middle of the street) "This kind of thing is exactly why Dad sent me out here."  

Hannistina had faintly heard the voice over the loud tango of her overwhelmed heart, and recognized him instantly.  It was Reedsler, her baby brother.  He was the family "babysitter".  Anytime a family member started acting erratic, he was sent to spy on them and report back to Dad.  Hannistina groaned.  How could she have let things get this far out of control? 

He stepped over to her. "So, uh, do I get a hug or should I just pretend  
I'm on "Dancing with the Stars" along with you?"  He reiterated his point with his high pitched giggle, ending with a small snort.  It was the first of many. 

"You can either join in or get lost!"  Hannistina playfully put her hands on her hips and tossed her head back.  "You have a reputation of being a killjoy, and I don't want any of that around here." 

"Why would I want to join your little circus?"  Reedsler shook his head, and teased back,  "You never fail to draw a crowd."  

Hannistina looked at the crowd gathering across the street at the Bonmuffin Bakery.  She was in too good a mood to care.  She started to ask Reedsler in, but remembering the disaster inside, she refrained.  Instead she taunted him, "I suppose that you brought that raging appetite with you Reedy.",  knowing that the pet name would send him into a mild rage. 

Instead of getting angry like he used to, he laughed and shot back "I never leave home without it!"  

Realizing that she would not get the upper hand the old fashioned way, she 
decided to appeal to that raging appetite of his.  "Well I have about as much in the house to cook as I have to wear, so unless you want to eat fluffy poodle 
pajamas for dinner, will you run to the grocery and get us some supplies?" 

"You ran out of food?" he exclaimed loudly, "This situation is much worse than Dad thought.  I will be back in a jiffy." 

"Don't hurry!", she called after him as he sped down the street.  She knew 
that she had gotten rid of him for an hour or two.  He would not shop at the 
little mom and pop shop down the block.  He would drive the twenty minutes to 
the nearest Wal-Mart.  Reedsler did not get the charm of her small town.  She 
looked across the street at the gawking bystanders and waved.  She knew she 
appeared ludicrous, but at the moment she was still glowing from the weight 
that Dudley had lifted from her shoulders.  She gathered herself, knowing that she only had an hour or two to create a miracle inside her little home.  Throwing one more wave to the crowd across the street, she tossed her hair and hurried inside with renewed enthusiasm. 
  
"It is amazing what and hour and a half can do when you set your mind to it," 
Hannistina thought as she surveyed her hastily cleaned home.  "He won't think 
to look in the closets, anyway." 

Hannistina smiled to herself.  She was amazed how happy and content she now 
was, thanks to her Dudley.  I mean, her friend Dudley.  Her cheeks reddened.  Could it be that she has really learned to care for Dudley?  She thought of his 
short stocky frame and balding head...they had always stood in the way of her 
wanting to get to know him more, but now she only thought of the smile of forgiveness beneath his badly bruised forehead.  She had certainly learned to respect and appreciate him; who knows what the future would bring.  Her lips turned up into a satisfied look, while she folded her hands near her chin, lost in thoughts of him...

The door burst open and Reedsler entered, laden down with Walmart bags, his miniature poodle yipping at his heels. It was Reedsler, the poodle lover, who had given her the pajamas last Christmas.

"Hey, Mona Lisa, wipe that stupid daydream out of your head and give me a hand here," he demanded without a hint of chivalry.  Hannistina sighed.  Compared 

to Reedsler, Dudley certainly was a gentleman.  

"Don't you think you need to learn some manners?", Hannistina replied as she 
moved to help him. 

"Manners don't get you anywhere in this world sweetie,"  he taunted, "what you 
need is a direct approach to get you what you want." 

"Well, since the direct approach is what you suggest, then I will let you know 
directly that I am not cooking tonight." 

"What, you send me all the way for groceries without the intention of cooking 
them for me!  This is cruel and unusual punishment.",  he whined.

"We are going out tonight, my treat."  She knew that he was not above being 
bought.  "I am going to take you to my favorite bakery, and then we'll check out 
the shop next door.  I am thinking about opening my new store there." 

"Oh, you have a potential space for your little bon-bon shop now, do you?" Reedsler's continuing taunts were beginning to annoy Hannastina.  

Hannastina answered, "Okay Reedsler, if you are really here to help me, can we 
draw a truce?  I really could use your input.  You have a great eye for a deal 
and despite your ability to annoy your older siblings, you are really good at 
helping Dad with even his most difficult clients.  You can help me here, if 
you'll give it a shot." 

"Are you really going to try to open a shop?  You know Dad really wants you 
back in the family business.  When you said that you were going to take a break 
from accounting, he was sure that you would be back in a month or two.  It's 
been a year.  You moved out here to the middle of nowhere and we've been waiting 
for you to play the part of the prodigal son when your cash runs out, but now 
your talking about opening your own shop.  Come on sis, Dad . . . well we all 
want you to come back and join the family."  For Reedsler this speech was 
monumental, not one jest or poke was present.  

Hannistina knew she must choose her words carefully, so as not to ruin this 
moment.  "For one, I was a good accountant, so I saved and invested well.  I 
never had to spend much because I still lived with Mom and Dad.  Secondly, I 
really love cooking.  I learned that when I was working in the firm.  I would 
stress all day in the office and come home frazzled and frayed.  When I got 
home, I was so tired that I couldn't think, but Mom was sick, so somebody had to 
cook dinner.  That was hard on all of us, so I did my best to pitch in.  All 
those years that Mom did everything for everybody, and it was my turn to pay her 
back a little.  I learned that I loved the kitchen.  By the time I had dinner on 
the table, I was relaxed.  The stress dissipated with the steam of each cooking 
dish.  Now I know that I can use my love of cooking and my ability with numbers 
and make this work.  I am not leaving the family, I just need to make my own way 
in this world.  You know, I didn't leave for another continent, I am only an 
hour away from Mom and Dad's house.  Now that Mom is better, you all really 
could visit more often." 

Reedsler had listened to her careful explanation.  He had watched and let her 
passionate words reach her soul.  "I didn't know that you were unhappy in the 
firm.  I just thought you were burnt out from working all day and then going 
home to take care of the house and Mom and Dad." 

"Mom's cancer took a toll on all of us, and I was burnt out, but no more than 
Dad.  I just found out that I need to do my own thing.  I need to find my way.  
When Mom got her clean bill of health, I knew that I needed to take some time 
and sort things out in my head.  Hey, the groceries are all away!  It's funny 
how fast two people can put things away, even when they are talking.  Let's go 
to the bakery.  I'll tell you more about my plans over dinner!" 

Stay tuned, the next installment is called "The Other Woman".  That should give Hannistina something to eat chocolate about.

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 8

Well now, it hasn't been nearly as long between installments, so I'm sure you could just scroll down to review, but for those of you who want to make life more difficult, here's the link to Part 7.

Ah, Hannistina, there's nothing that makes you feel worse about karate chopping a man in the face than when he forgives you and unselfishly makes you a gourmet dinner.  Happens to me all the time.  Let's continue... 


     "Dudley, after all we've been through. . .," Hannistina murmured.  "When my world is spinning out of control, when uncertainty's hands cling to my future like over-baked cheese clings to my iron skillet. . . You know my own thoughts...(sigh) my own cravings before even I do."  

     With that she nearly fainted as the aroma from the contents of the box wafted gently to her nostrils.  She wiped back an errant tear with the arm of her fuzzy pajama sleeve, finding yet more comfort in the feel of the fabric against her face.  Come what may, one could always count on certain things to boost the spirit! 

     She gathered her emotions as she carried the package to the coffee table where she set it down and proceeded to the kitchen to procure a clean fork.  "I'm 
not even going to care about the disaster in here, " she consoled herself.  "I 
have happiness in a box waiting for me in the other room."  With that she 
resolutely produced a beaten up, but still intact utensil packet leftover from a bygone trip to KFC some months. . or was it years. . before?  Never mind that - she was thankful for the plastic now, and she had more pressing matters at hand.  That wonderful creation of a meal would get cold if she dawdled any longer.  Now 
that would be a crying shame! 

     Hannistina padded back to the living room with her knife and spork.  She was 
about to seat herself and give her emotions entirely over to the enjoyment of this heaven-sent meal when she realized she had forgotten a drink. 

     Tension was starting to mount again.  Amidst frustration over the quickly cooling spread that lay before her Hannistina could feel herself beginning to lose it when she re-entered the disheveled kitchen.  At once, like the odor of garlic that takes over one's refrigerator when the jar has been spilled and 
the contents lost forever in the packed shelves, all of the events of recent days 
washed over her.  She sank to the floor next to the trash can, buried her face 
in her hands and began to weep bitter tears. 

     "What's wrong with me?  Daddy's upset with me, Georgio is an ogre, my reputation is in shambles, and now my appetite for Dudley's peace offering is all but gone.  I have got to get a handle on this.  I need chocolate!" 

     Forgetting the meal and the fact that her head was now resting on the side 
of the trash can, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and began to daydream about 
true happiness.  Was true happiness a possibility?  All these years she had 
been yearning, searching for happiness and here it seemed that all possibilities 
of happiness were in shambles around her. 

     Without further thought, Hannistina jumped up, grabbed the boxed meal and 
paraded her pink poodle clad body straight over to the Bonmuffin bakery.  She saw Dudley standing behind the counter with his jaw almost touching the floor.  It was only then that she remembered her strange apparel.  Too late to turn back now.  She squared her shoulders and proceeded to the counter.  She placed the box in front of Dudley.  

     "What is the meaning of this?"  How Hannistina managed to sound offended when she should have felt overwhelmed with gratitude was beyond even her own comprehension. 

     Dudley could have come back with a fitting reply, for many sarcastic remarks 
came to the tip of his tongue, despite his normally sweet disposition.  Instead, 
he squelched the urge to laugh at her, recognizing the desperation in Hannistina's eyes.  Quietly, he replied "Don't you think it's time to move on?".

     "Move on, move on," she stuttered, "how can you move on after being publicly humiliated?".  

     " I realize that you are talking about your own humiliation, but having lived through my own fair share of humiliation, I have to tell you the one way I have found."  He paused and Hannistina noticed that the bruise on his head was 
only a faint brown mark.  

     "Forgiveness." he finished. 

     "Forgiveness?" she blurted out, "Who am I to forgive, I am the one who publicly shamed myself, and you.  As a matter of fact," she said as she glanced down at her attire, "I continue to embarrass myself more every day".  

     "Yourself."  Dudley said definitively.  "I have, and now you must.  Move on 
Hannistina.  Go home, clean yourself up.  Make a pot of that wonderful chili." 

     "You liked the chili?"  she started, and then finished with "You forgive 
me?  I haven't even apologized." 

     Dudley laughed, "Yes, I liked the chili, and no you don't have to apologize in order for me to forgive you." 

     "I am truly sorry, Dudley.  There is no way that I can take back my rash actions." 

     "It is all in the past, now go home and make a pot of chili.  I'd like to 
try to sell it in my shop.  I think it would really take off.  If people like 
it, maybe you could take over the shop next door.  You know that Mrs. Fairly is 
selling her perfume shop.  I don't like the idea of having an empty space next door.  I'd be glad to help you get started." 

     Hannastina stared back in open shock.  "You would do that for me, after 
all this?" she finally replied. 

     "Yes, now go home and fix a pot of chili for me!"  Dudley laughed. Her tender smile was returned by his unwavering glance...his eyes were full of hope.

Well now, I must admit, that was a much more meaningful summation to the chapter than I personally had in mind.  Apparently Dudley is the moral compass of this bizarre story.  My only other thought in this installment is for Dudley...."RUN!!!!!!"  I think that's how I would have phrased it if any of my brothers had met Hannistina in real life.  Stay tuned...the next installment introduces a new and exciting character!

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 7

Now, I realize that most of you have no idea what is happening with our prior installments, but have no fear, I'm including the link to Part 6 so you'll be able to update yourself on the fabulous antics of my alterego, er, my character Hannistina.  What can I say?  Life at times needs some comic relief.

Ah yes, as I recall, I had just dashed the hopes of my co-writer by following the smooch with a wallop of near-coma force to our poor Dudley.  Apparently I wasn't much into the safe, lovely ending at the time.  It was way too much fun to keep on writing!  Poor co-writer of mystery, I can tell even now that you didn't know what to do with my twist.  Never fear.  I had a great depression scene in mind.  I giggled until I cried when I originally wrote this one.  Even now it's enough to almost quench the thought of my own dirty dishes right in the next room...


Chapter 3: Forgiveness 


     Hannistina walked down the street to the library with her cheeks aflame. By now, everyone in town had heard of yesterday's trip to the post office that eventually led to a trip to the hospital.  Oh how rumors spread in a small town, 
especially when fueled by a dramatic, screaming ambulance.  She hung her head with shame.  What had started out to be a semi-normal day had turned into a nightmare! Even her family on the other side of the country heard of her fiasco, 
due to her father's impeccable timing!  To think, he had called to say he reconsidered and was going to offer her the money to finance her shop.  He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was immediately to call 911.   

     "When you knock a man unconscious, you must seek medical attention."  were his last words.  Obviously, talk of the shop was now out of the question.  The silence on the other end of the phone was painful as she had realized how alone she was in her predicament. 

     Her memories were sharply interrupted when she walked into the buzzing library and all heads turned in her direction.  She thought she might find at 
least one sympathetic face in the crowd, but it seemed that alliances lay with Mr. Dudley Bonmuffin.  It seems that when one flirts openly with a man and invites him into her home, it is not well received to put him into the hospital for a mere light kiss! 

     Hannistina held her head up high and put her books into the return slot. She marched to the computer and stared at the screen.  What was she here to look for?  After a moment the room recovered and she remembered that she was looking for a business book.  The room again began to quietly buzz.  In this neighborhood, not even libraries were a sanctuary from gossip.  Hannistana gathered her courage and retrieved the book.  After checking out, she made her way home.  She would finish her errands another day when some embarrassment from another unlucky citizen had replaced hers. Unfortunately, it would be months before she would go out without angry glares from Dudley's supporters.  Apparently Dudley was more popular than she gave him credit.   

     A few days had gone by.  There was no denying it now--she was depressed.  Tears rolled down Hannistina's gently sloped nose.  She raised her head to grab 
a tissue and was awed by what she saw.  All around her the evidence of her depression was all too true.  Next to her on the bed was the library book, never once opened, along with an extra large bag of Dove Promises, three King size Reese's Cups, and all seven boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her freezer. These of course had been opened and vociferously attacked in her fever to erase her shame.  She began to get a little dizzy from her sharply dropping blood sugar.  

     "I need to get some real food," she thought.  Clad in her pink poodle fuzzy pajamas, she slowly descended the stairs, only to find an even bigger mess in the kitchen.  She willed her eyes past the dishes littering every countertop, to the refrigerator.  She inspected its contents unenthusiastically--"leftover brussels sprouts...no... egg nog...definitely not...what's that?"  she inspected the tupperware container shoved near the back of the bottom shelf..."oh, wow...forgot about that".  Into the overflowing trash it went.  Her thoughts wandered to her pantry, shelf three, slightly to the left of the middle behind the conspicuously healthy whole grains, where she stored her marshmallows and baking chocolate. 

     "No, I can't.  I've got to concentrate."  

     She pulled out some provolone cheese.  There was no use trying to cook, as all her dishes were dirty. 
  

     Hannistina aimlessly ambled into the living room and sat down at her computer.  Writing in her journal had always made her feel better, but lately, she hadn't really felt like writing in it.  She didn't particularly want to chronicle this part of her life.  With a sigh, she began to look for a new cookbook to buy.  A picture of Rocco DiSpirito popped up, and she took another bite.  Why couldn't he have been the one to taste her chili and to... 

Apparently Ghiradelli wasn't the only Italian of Hannistina's dreams...

     There was a sharp rap at the door.  Hannistina shoved the last few bites of 

cheese into her mouth and rose to answer the door.  She instinctively glanced in the mirror near the door to check her hair.  Thank goodness she could always count on her pristine curls retaining their perfect shape.  She opened the door, 
peering out blandly at the uniformed man.  

     "Miss Hershey?" he asked. 

     "Yes, I am Hannistina Hershey.  Can I help you?". 

     "Got a package here for you.  Have a great day."  He all but hurled the large box into her hands.  She retreated into the quiet darkness of her house, 
inspecting the box as she walked to the couch.  How odd.  She wasn't expecting 
anything, and it wasn't sent through the mail.  She untied the ribbon and pulled 
the top off the box.  She gasped as she saw its contents, for inside was a warm, lovely meal from none other than the Bonmuffin bakery. 

    Okay, I have to admit, I went a little overboard on the elipses in this one. What's a girl to do when she's typing as fast as her giggling, crying self can crank out another chocolate allusion.  Stay tuned for more Hannistina in the near future!

The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 6

Have I ever mentioned that I'm not a big fan of Hannistina's chili?

To brush up on what was happening, here is Part 5.                                                           I realize what cruel and unusual punishment it has been for you faithful readers to wait so long to discover Hannistina's next brilliant move.  Blame baby Megan...luckily she's cute enough to counterbalance all that criticism.  On to the story...                                   Hannistina allowed his arm to guide her across the street to her house and even handed him the keys to unlock the door.  It was fun to be taken care of.  She made her way into  the kitchen, hurrying to warm last night's disastrous dish.  She herself had come to think that it was one of her best creations.  The warm, comforting dish was not a delicacy, for sure, but it did have it's own charm.  She 
scooped  the chili into her favorite bowl and generously topped it with freshly grated Cheddar cheese.  She added a spoon and presented Dudley with her creation.  Dudley took 
the dish, closed his eyes and sniffed.  A smile crossed his face.  He tried one bite.  He took another bite.       "Oh, Hannistina."      Hannistina's eyes met Dudley's  as he leaned closer.  Hannistina was shocked.  She did not have time to react as Dudley's lips met hers.  This was not the reaction she had in mind! 
  
     A combination of instinct and self-defense classes took over.   She vigorously screamed and grabbed his arm from her waist, twisting it until Dudley  flipped  completely over.  Panic had given her superhuman strength.  As his portly  frame hit the tiled floor with a thud, his head flew back, slamming into the ceramic countertop, jarring the tupperware container of chili over the edge of the counter and into the sink.  Lucklily, the bulk of the contents were 
caught in the strainer full of spaghetti Hannistina had forgotten about when she left on  her errand. Dudley, rendered unconscious by the impact, was unaware of the  large, reddened counter mark on his expansive balding forehead.  After the initial shock, Hannistina distinctly remembered trying to run three ways all at once--to the ringing phone, the chili spaghetti draining into the sink, and to the unfortunate bulky, bruised specimen on the floor.  It was a moment of chaos  she would always remember in later years every time someone ordered what she  would affectionately name the "three way".                                                                       ***Note:  For those of you not from the Cincinnati area, a three way is a way to order chili on spaghetti with cheese on top.  Local places keep adding toppings as ordered, thus creating the five way, etc.  I wonder if it goes higher than that...I have no idea.  Perhaps a local could fill us in...or I could just google the Skyline website...or not.  (cue music: "It's Skyline time...")                  Ah, yes.  As I recall, it was another writer who was feeling sentimental as this installment was nearing Valentine's Day.  I had different plans for our heroine, though, and inserted the injury.  Sorry to spoil your hopes of a sweet, romantic ending, C********.  (Name left out to protect the writer's identity).                       Stay tuned...the next installment is one of my favorites.  It's a great insight into Hannistina's manic-depressive, chocolate-obsessive behavior.  I know you're on pins and needles...