Pumpkin Roll (13 page)

“Yeah, I know,” Pete said, looking at her curiously. “That’s not always a good thing.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sadie said. “Besides, it’ll be much safer than trying to drive around downtown by myself. I have my baton and my mace and that laminated street map. You weren’t worried when I was going back and forth to the hotel.”

He still looked skeptical. “The hotel wasn’t in downtown Boston.”

“The Back Bay station is connected to Copley Place. I’ll be fine, and it will be much easier than navigating the streets in that minivan.”

She looked at the clock. She would need to leave here by at least 5:30 in order to get to the Forest Hills station on time. Dinner wouldn’t be done by then, but she should be able to cook the broccoli and start the chicken baking. Darn, she hated missing a meal.

“I have to be careful about what I get myself involved in,” Pete said, interrupting her planning. His tone was deceptively even. Sadie looked over at him and when he didn’t look away, Sadie understood. He wasn’t going to tell her not to go, but he wasn’t going to be a part of it either. She could live with that—it was part of the agreement they’d made when they had both accepted the new level of their relationship. He wasn’t going to try to change her, even when he really, really, wanted to. It still made her feel like she was doing something wrong, however.

Chance ran into the kitchen and attempted to hide behind Pete as Fig chased him, sufficiently interrupting them before their discussion could continue. The boys circled Pete three times before Pete grabbed Chance around the middle and threw him over his shoulder. He then flipped him back down and tickled him until both boys screamed with laughter. Kalan heard the laughter from the living room and joined his brothers as they bolted down the hallway, slamming the door to their bedroom closed against the “tickle monster.”

Pete leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and stretching out his back with a grimace. “They’re going to send me to an early grave,” he said, pushing back his hair with one hand. “I’m sure of it.”

Sadie smiled and took the bag of chicken nuggets out of the freezer. After hesitating a minute, she picked up the topic of Mrs. Wapple again. “I was thinking maybe we could set a deadline. Do all we can for Mrs. Wapple until then before we let ourselves off the hook.”

“I like that idea,” Pete said with a nod. “How about ten tomorrow morning?”

Sadie felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. If she did all she could do, she’d be at peace turning the problem over to someone else. Once she passed the baton, she could focus back on the boys and this trip. She and Pete had talked about renting a rowboat on Jamaica Pond, or visiting some of the colonial graveyards that housed some of the gatekeepers of the nation’s history. To do those things, and fully enjoy them, she needed to be at peace with having done the best she could by Mrs. Wapple. But in order to feel like she’d exhausted every option, she had to make one more attempt to contact Gabrielle Marrow; it would be better for everyone if Gabrielle were involved, and it seemed that the only option left was a face-to-face meeting.

“Ten o’clock is good,” Sadie said. She opened the bag of chicken nuggets and dumped the frozen chunks of chicken puree onto a jelly roll pan, trying not to feel bad about feeding the boys processed food. She pulled the marinated chicken out of the fridge and transferred two pieces to a baking dish. “It will be so nice to think about something else.”

The boys were still laughing in their room, distracted from the tickle monster for the moment. Pete stretched out his hand. “Deal?”

Sadie washed her hands before taking his and giving it a good, firm shake. “Deal.”

Instead of letting go, however, Pete pulled her toward him and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her on the cheek and held her against his chest.

Sadie closed her eyes and sent up a little prayer of gratitude that Pete wasn’t trying to make her ignore the instincts pulling her in a direction she knew he didn’t necessarily agree with. It was a big step for him, and an important step in their relationship that she did not take lightly.

They had only a few seconds to steal before the boys would start wondering where the tickle monster was. Pete gave her a look of surrender as he lifted his hands over his head in monster-like claws and roared a terrible roar while stomping down the hall.

Sadie put the two chicken options in the oven and began grating the Mizithra cheese for the Snowy Trees while planning how she was going to approach Gabrielle without coming across as a stalker. It was going to be tricky.

Broccoli in Brown Butter

4 cups fresh broccoli florets (about 2 lbs. of broccoli crowns before trimming)

4 tablespoons real butter (margarine does not substitute)

¼ cup grated Mizithra cheese*

Steam florets until tender crisp. While broccoli is steaming, heat butter on medium-high heat, stirring constantly to keep it from burning. (The longer it browns, the nuttier the flavor.) Add steamed broccoli to browned butter and toss until broccoli is well-coated. Spread buttered broccoli in a single layer onto a platter or large plate. Sprinkle with Mizithra cheese. (Breanna prefers freshly grated Parmesan cheese to Mizithra.) Serve hot.

Serves 6. (This is the perfect side dish for any pasta dish or grilled chicken.)

(Shawn would only eat these if I called them Snowy Trees or Dinosaur Food when he was little.)

*Mizithra is a dry, white cheese sold in the deli area of most grocery stores and shrink-wrapped in four 10-ounce portions. It does not melt, but has a mild, salty flavor. Add more or less to taste.

Chapter 11

Pete agreed to keep an eye out for Mrs. Wapple while Sadie “went to the store,” never mind that she had fixed her hair and makeup in record time before changing into her khaki slacks and dress boots that matched the black peacoat of Heather’s she’d borrowed from the hall closet. The website gave every impression that this was a posh event, so she did her best to dress accordingly, and she was glad to have come prepared—Pete admitted he’d packed only jeans and sweatshirts. Men never prepared for such contingencies.

Sadie kissed Pete good-bye before heading to the minivan. She held a scarf over her head, determined to not let the wind get the better of her hair reparations. She arrived at Forest Hills station and boarded the train almost immediately. Her companions were not singing Irish drinking songs, unfortunately, but there was a group that looked like a four-generation family—a great-grandmother in her seventies, Sadie guessed, a grandmother, a mother, and a four-year-old girl sitting on her grandmother’s lap. Their features were so similar Sadie couldn’t help but think what a great portrait it would make. She wondered if the matriarch had been born and raised here, only to set a precedent for all these girls coming of age in Bean Town.

The ride was about ten minutes; Sadie doubted she’d even be on the turnpike by now if she’d chosen to drive. She poured out of the doors with her fellow patrons and followed the signs through the Dartmouth tunnel to the Copley Place Mall. At that point she consulted one of the mall maps to find her way to the Marriott and only stopped twice—once to drool over shoes at a high-end store she had no business entering.

Eventually she found herself in the sleekly designed main lobby of the hotel, and only then did her nerves begin setting in. Exactly how was this little meeting she was so intent on having going to pan out?

She inhaled deeply and followed the signs pointing to the Global Initiatives banquet being held in the Boylston room. The hotel was huge—thirty-eight floors of rooms, suites, and conference areas. Astounding. Sadie imagined the view of the St. Charles River was breathtaking from the upper levels, but she was glad the Global Initiatives event was on the main floor so she didn’t have to navigate vertically as well as horizontally. She entered the area outside of the Boylston room and realized that posh in Boston, Massachusetts, was very different from posh in Garrison, Colorado. The women fairly sparkled with their perfectly highlighted hair, shimmering jewelry, and translucent-looking skin. Sadie didn’t fit in as well as she’d hoped, and her insecurity about her hair tripled, but she stood up straight and hoped no one was assessing her as closely as she was assessing them.

Sadie unbuttoned the peacoat and tucked her scarf under the collar while she looked around. Two women sat at a table labeled Registration; one of the women was wearing a mink-collared vest. As women approached the table and gave their names, they were checked off a list and allowed to enter the banquet room. Sadie avoided the table, but she did walk by the doorway and estimated there were seats for about sixty. Only a dozen women sat or stood by the tables—none of them Gabrielle. Other guests were talking in small groups in the foyer area, which was really just an extra-wide hallway. Sadie had sent the photo of Gabrielle from the art gallery’s website to her phone for reference and double-checked it as she scanned faces. It took only a few minutes to wind through the groups of chattering women who hadn’t gone in yet for Sadie to assure herself that Gabrielle wasn’t among them.

She imagined Pete back at the house, spending the evening with the three little boys, and felt a lump rise in her throat at missing it. Gabrielle better realize how serious Sadie was now. The deadline she and Pete had decided on for tomorrow morning helped reassure her that one way or another she was getting closer to being finished with this. But she still hoped she wasn’t wasting her time at this event that made her feel frumpy and anxious.

She wandered for the next ten minutes, feigning interest in the art on the walls and overall design of the hotel—which really was lovely—while avoiding eye contact, which wasn’t difficult since no one seemed to notice her. She continued to notice them, however, and coveted a few of the particularly striking brand-name handbags and designer shoes she couldn’t afford. Definitely not Garrison.

Finally, she saw a profile she recognized in a group of women who’d just come around the corner from the direction of the registration desk. Sadie moved closer and consulted her phone to make sure that the woman was, in fact, Gabrielle Marrow. She didn’t look much like the woman she’d seen at Mrs. Wapple’s yesterday, which only meant that she’d put a lot into getting ready for tonight’s dinner. She was dressed in high-heeled boots, trim tweed slacks, and a burnished red leather blazer that brought out the red tones in her golden-brown hair. The big diamond ring on her finger caught the light when she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her makeup was flawless.

Sadie quickly slid into line behind Gabrielle, then took a breath and tapped her on the shoulder.

Gabrielle turned, freezing when she saw Sadie standing there instead of the acquaintance she surely had expected. Sadie gave her a few seconds to let the recognition set in. Probably like a toothache if the expression on Gabrielle’s face was any indication.

“Hi, Gabrielle,” Sadie said when she was certain Gabrielle knew who she was. “I wonder if I could have a word.”

Gabrielle glanced at the woman closest to her and then plastered a smile on her face when the woman turned to see what was going on. “Um, will you check me in?” she asked her friend. “I’ll be right back.” She continued to smile at Sadie. “Over here?” she asked, pointing toward the far end of the gathering area as she adjusted her purse strap nervously.

Sadie nodded, but caught the darting looks Gabrielle cast around the group as they moved away, as though hoping no one was noticing her. The woman Gabrielle had been standing next to in line pulled her eyebrows together as much as her Botox would allow and lifted a hand to her hair—too much hair to not have extensions. Sadie smiled politely and then hurried to keep up with Gabrielle, who was several steps ahead. When they were far enough away to suit Gabrielle, she turned Sadie so that Sadie’s back was to the group of people. Her expression was as pleasant as ever. Her tone, on the other hand, was not. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get your attention,” Sadie said.

“I assured you that everything was being taken care of.”

“I know that’s what you said,” Sadie agreed. “But I did not feel as though you were . . . listening to what I had to say. I am very—”