Pumpkin Roll (5 page)

Sadie went inside, and it was a full five minutes before Pete could ask her how it went; he’d only been able to watch for a minute before the boys came in from the backyard, throwing shoes and coats in every direction. The boys were playing Toy Story in the living room, giving Sadie time to cover the other cookies on paper plates with plastic wrap. By the time she finished recounting her exchange with Delores, Pete had that look on this face—that look that said he was thinking very hard about something.

“What?” she asked.

“She came from the other side.”

“The other side?” Sadie said, immediately thinking about a book she’d read on near-death experiences that had the same name. She didn’t think that was what he meant, though.

“Of the house—south. You were looking on the north side.”

Sadie hurried to the picture window, dodging Woody’s lasso in the process, and looked to the south side of the house. There was only about six feet of fencing on the south side, and it was farther from the front door. Why would there be a gate over there? But Sadie could see a rather faint path in the grass, arching from the fence to the sidewalk that led to the front door. Pete came up behind her and by the sound of it, he was eating yet another cookie. The man was going to make himself sick if he didn’t show a little more restraint.

“Interior hinges,” Sadie said, looking at the slats of the fence. “I knew it. But why not just use the front door?”

Pete nudged her. “Because she’s a witch, remember? Witches do all kinds of crazy things.”

Sadie elbowed him lightly, to which he responded with a dramatic “Ooof.” She walked past him just as her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her coat pocket and made a face when she saw it was Jane. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now; Jane was someone Sadie had to gear up for. She pushed the end button and turned around to face Pete. “We should take the boys to a park after Kalan gets out of school,” she said, looking around for something else to think about. “Have you ever been to any of Olmsted’s parks around here?”

“Whose parks?”

“Olmsted,” Sadie said. “I read up on them when I came out here with the kids several years ago. Breanna and her passion for zoos pretty much set the pace for a lot of our vacations, and the Franklin Park Zoo is part of Franklin Park, which is part of Olmsted’s Emerald Necklace chain of parks in the Boston area.” She cocked her head to the side. “You’ve never heard of Olmsted?”

Pete shook his head. “You want to take the boys to the zoo?”

“No, just a playground or something. With all those parks, there’s got to be a great playground tucked in there somewhere, right?”

Pete shrugged. “I guess.”

Sadie nodded. “Good. I’ll have the boys help me deliver the rest of the cookies after lunch, then they can take a nap. We can pick up Kalan from school and wear these kids out before bedtime.”

“Now,
that
is something I’m up for,” Pete said.

“I think it sounds like the perfect outing for today.” The perfect outing to get her thoughts off Delores Wapple and the anxiousness of wanting to be working a case. Was that her problem? Was that why she was making cookies for neighbors? Was it a different kind of investigation since she’d sworn off actual work? She’d never thought about herself as a workaholic, but maybe she had simply never loved what she did enough to get addicted to it.

Sadie used the leftover yeast rolls from last night’s dinner to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, looking forward to taking the other plates of cookies to the neighbors. Unfortunately, delivering the cookies was anticlimactic. The Middle Eastern man on the south side didn’t speak much English, though he seemed quite pleased with the cookies. The people who lived on the other side weren’t home, so Sadie went to the next house and woke up a middle-aged man who apparently worked the night shift. He took the cookies, but didn’t look all that pleased to be woken up. The boys loved helping, though, and wanted to take more cookies to more houses until Sadie told them about the park after nap time. They were easy to redirect.

Jane called again when they were waiting in the line of cars to pick up Kalan. Sadie rejected that call too. When Jane called a third time, however, after they’d been at a playground called Mother’s Rest for fifteen minutes, Sadie decided to give in and get it over with.

Laree’s Ginger Cookies

¾ cup shortening

½ cup sugar

½ cup brown sugar

¼ cup dark molasses

1 egg

2 cups flour

¼ teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon ginger

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream shortening and sugars. Add molasses and egg. Stir in remaining ingredients.* Roll into 1-inch balls, and then roll in sugar (about 4 tablespoons). Bake for 8 to 12 minutes, until edges are slightly darker than center.

Take them out when they are still soft. Allow to cool on pan 2 minutes before transferring cookies to a cooling rack. Store in an airtight container.

If you cook these too long, they will get a bit crispy (more like ginger snaps if you really cook them), but if you put the next batch in the container while the cookies are still warm, they will all soften up.

Makes 3 to 4 dozen.

*Shawn likes to add ½ cup white chocolate chips, and Neil liked ½ cup chopped walnuts. Bre always doubles the ginger.

Chapter 4

Sadie took a deep breath before answering the phone. “Jane,” she said in a careful tone as she signaled Pete that she needed a minute. Pete nodded and crossed his arms like a sentry as the boys continued to play with the two dozen other children enjoying the warmth of the afternoon, such as it was.

“How are you, dear?” Adding the endearment was something Sadie had read about in a magazine; if you said kind things out loud, you could sometimes help rewire your opinion of things. She left the fenced playground area and walked toward the stairs that led to the Boylston Street Bridge.

“I’m good,” Jane said, as confident as ever. Her low voice, almost like a man’s, was due in part to the cigarettes she smoked, but it also suited her personality. Jane was not feminine or understated. “So I was talking to Shawn and he says you’re in Boston for the week.” Sadie surmised from the background noise that Jane was driving. She hoped the younger woman was using a hands-free option to talk on the phone. After getting a ticket in Oregon for talking while she drove, Sadie had purchased a hands-free system and become a big proponent of the option.

“I am in Boston,” Sadie said, noting that exactly five hours ago she’d specifically asked Shawn not to call Jane unless he absolutely had to. “I’m playing nanny for a few days.” She’d reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the bridge and leaned against the railing.

“With Detective Cunningham, right?” Jane asked.

“Did Shawn tell you that?” Sadie asked, prepared to be even more annoyed with her son. Then again, Jane always seemed to know more than she should. When it came to the investigations, that was helpful, but it made Sadie uncomfortable when that extra knowledge was about her personal life.

“He didn’t have to,” Jane said smugly. “I knew you guys left town together last week. And I heard Jared matched in Texas somewhere—congratulations.”

“How did you hear that?” Sadie said, standing a little straighter.

“You know better than to ask me,” Jane said, her casual arrogance showing through. “Here’s the weird part—I’m in New Haven.”

“Connecticut?”

Jane laughed her throaty laugh that would fit perfectly in a smoky bar with insufficient lighting. “Of course Connecticut. I’m doing a freelance article on the number of Yale freshmen who drop out before the end of the first semester. I’m titling it ‘Running Home to Mama.’”

“Oh,” Sadie said. “Well, what a coincidence that we’re so close to one another.”

“No kidding, right? So, I was thinking I could come out there and you could make me dinner.”

The girl had the social skills of an iguana. “Well, I’m not in my own home or anything, and we’ve got our hands full with the kids.”

“Serious?” Jane said, and despite herself, Sadie was struck by the disappointment in Jane’s tone. “I mean, of course I shouldn’t be inviting myself over. Sorry. I just thought with both of us being in New England and all that, well, um, never mind.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Sadie said, questioning what she should do. It was hard to keep up when Jane’s attitude shifted so quickly. Yet one more way the younger woman kept Sadie on her toes. “It’s just an awkward situation, what with us being guests and all.”

Jane was quiet for a few beats. “That’s right—you and Pete are staying there
together,
aren’t you?”

“Not together like
that,
” Sadie said, looking around when she realized her voice was a little loud. The sudden heat in her cheeks caused her to quickly duck her head. “I don’t appreciate the implication that we’re being improper.”

“No, no, I’m not implying anything. Just looking out for a friend,” Jane said in a tone too light for Sadie to take at face value. “And how’s that working out, being in such close quarters?”

Jane had once tried to accuse Sadie of having less than high moral standards and it was still a sore spot between them, or at least for Sadie. She put her hand in her pocket and realized she was making a fist. “I’m not going to discuss this, Jane. Was there another reason you called?”

“Okay, okay, I’m done poking at you,” Jane said with a laugh. “I guess that was all I needed to talk to you about. Just thought I’d check in; I haven’t seen you since Portland.”

Portland.

With that one word, Jane successfully triggered the sense of indebtedness Sadie usually managed to ignore. The fact was that Jane, whose job at the
Denver
Post
had been shaky at the time, had found herself smack-dab in the middle of an amazing story when she had followed Sadie to Portland a few months earlier. To this day Jane had never printed the story. That was like Sadie developing the perfect recipe for something and refusing to bake it. And while Sadie continued to worry the story would show up somewhere, it hadn’t. For three months it hadn’t. The players in the drama that had taken place in Portland had moved on with barely a public whisper of the intricacies Jane knew about but had promised not to capitalize on. Sadie’s name hadn’t surfaced in anything other than the formal police reports.

Beyond that, Jane wasn’t working for the
Post
anymore; even the column she had been writing for the last few years, “Ms. Jane,” had been taken over by a new journalist. Sadie wasn’t entirely sure what Jane was doing as far as employment was concerned other than helping Sadie out here and there with portions of a case.

And, still, Jane hadn’t sold the story. Shouldn’t that earn Jane some of Sadie’s trust? Sadie sat down on the bottom step and took a breath as she changed her attitude.

“I’m fine, Jane,” Sadie said, and she hoped Jane could hear the change in her voice. “Just a little high-strung, I guess. I really am sorry that despite being so close to one another there isn’t room for a visit, but Pete and I really do have our hands full. It wouldn’t be right to distract myself from the task at hand.” Instantly Delores Wapple came to mind. Wasn’t that a distraction? Sadie felt her shame deepen.

“I get it,” Jane said. “Not a big deal. We’ll meet up another time. Just know that I’m close by if you need me, okay? It’s only a two-hour drive—shorter than Denver to Garrison.”

“I’ll remember that,” Sadie said. “Thanks for calling.”

They said good-bye, and Sadie shut off the phone and stared at it a moment before putting it back into her pocket.