The Body in the Snowdrift (27 page)

Thanksgiving was Faith's favorite holiday. True, the menu didn't call for much ingenuity, but you could always fool around with the turkey stuffing and try something fun for a first course, like parsnip potage served in small scooped-out sugar pumpkins. What Thanksgiving meant was time to be together. Apart from an early-morning service, Tom was a free man. Unlike Christmas and Easter, Thanksgiving was short and sweet for the clergy.

Faith had put every leaf in the table, blessing the original occupants of the parsonage for demanding a decent-size dining room. Tom was carving, and steaming bowls of side dishes were being passed around. A few years earlier, Faith had finally convinced Dick to try her brussels sprouts. She'd tossed them with toasted walnuts and brown butter, hoping to entice
him. Now they were his favorite vegetable. Marian had brought sweet potatoes, marshmallows on only one side, in deference to Faith. Hope, Quentin, and little Terry had come up with Faith's parents. Her father had handed his service off to the assistant minister, much to Faith's delight. It was their first Thanksgiving together in a long time. There was no children's table—at least not yet. Maybe when Terry and whoever might follow were older, she'd have to set up a card table for the cousins.

There were some empty chairs. Glenda's was one. She had stuck to her plan, and the divorce would be final soon. Faith was pretty sure she'd had someone waiting in the wings when she'd left Pine Slopes. Maybe the Norwegian, who turned out to be from a wealthy family, spending the winter in Vermont to—what else?—improve his English. And Dennis wasn't with them. He and Betsey had separated—at her request. Faith had been surprised to get a call from her sister-in-law last spring, asking if they could meet in town for lunch at Betsey's club. Knowing that this would mean creamed something on toast or possibly something in cream sauce, Faith had agreed, but suggested they meet at her “club” instead—Upstairs on the Square in Cambridge. They'd sat for several hours, Faith mostly listening as Betsey described the course of counseling she and Dennis had undertaken after their return from Pine Slopes.

“I realized in the middle of one of the sessions that I really didn't want to be with him anymore. That he'd been poisoning my relationship with the boys by making me take charge of everything, all the while com
plaining that I had. The therapist helped me see that all those years when I was feeling so isolated, it was because I
was
—but isolated from my husband, not my kids. When I began to confront everything, it came to me that Dennis was never around that much. He'd take the kids to a Celtics or Red Sox game—fun stuff. But everything else was up to me. So since he was acting like an irresponsible divorced man, I figured he might as well be,” she'd told Faith. She'd also switched to another agency on the South Shore—no more working for “Daddy”—and was now, of course, their top salesperson. Craig had not stepped into her shoes. Dick had sold the business to Sheila Harding, a longtime associate and what he referred to as a “crackerjack agent.” She was keeping the firm's name, though. Craig had moved to Vermont, living first at Pine Slopes, and now in Richmond, where he'd met a pretty lady who wove baskets for a living. He and Fred were running the resort, which, in the wake of its tragedy, had garnered so much goodwill that it was already booked for the season. But, Tom had told her, Fred Stafford had insisted his parents take a nice long trip last February. They'd spent the rest of the winter in Tucson, which they liked so much, they were going back. It was Craig—not “Buddy”—and Fred—not “Freddy”—in charge now. Faith had smiled at the thought, praying for their sakes that Pete never followed the elder Staffords example.

Robert passed Faith her plate. Tom had given her a nice mix—mostly dark meat, her favorite, with a juicy slice of white. She smiled her thanks. Empty places, but one had already been filled by Robert's partner, Michael. As outgoing as Robert was taciturn, he kept
them all laughing. Faith didn't know how long they'd been together—Robert had brought him to a family gathering for the first time last summer—but it was clear they would be together for a very long time. She pictured the two sportsaholics in their rockers before a large-screen TV, surfing from one game to the next on into the sunset.

Andy was sitting on one side of his mother, Scott on the other. Compromises had been made. Andy was playing the saxophone
and
the flute. Scott had attended a shorter academic program last summer, working in town the rest of the time. And Ophelia. Faith went back to that night. Heard the girl's words.

“I killed him. She told me he was using the pills as a crutch. That the doctor said he didn't need them and the only way for him to get off them was to stop taking them. One day, she got all the bottles together when he was off working. I dumped them out and put mints in instead while she sang. I was so stupid, believing her.” Faith could still picture the scene in the cozy kitchen of the Gingerbread House. Ophelia at a table in front of the woodstove with its big black oven; Gertrude crooning “Me and Bobby McGee,” making sure the only fingerprints on the vials were Ophelia's, just in case one was found. “Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose”—Gertrude Stafford didn't intend to lose anything. It would have been Ophelia's freedom lost, not hers. Faith looked down at her plate. The food was losing some of its appeal.

Ophelia had continued pouring her heart out, her voice barely above a whisper. “He didn't like me—Boyd. Didn't like having me out at the house so much.
Maybe he was jealous. Maybe I was. She told me what we were doing was for his own good, but part of me wished he would die, and then I could live out there and have her all to myself. So I killed him.”

Simon Tanner was doing life. His family—parents and siblings alive and well in Sydney—had assured the prosecutor that they had nothing to say on his behalf. They had moved on with their lives a long time ago, deciding to forget, although not forgive. And would someone please send his aunt's Aboriginal painting back? they asked. The one he'd stolen on his last visit.

The trial had been swift—and a terrible ordeal for everyone involved, especially John's wife, Patty, who'd ended up with an empty suitcase. And it had also been particularly difficult for Faith, who'd had to testify while looking at that face, empty of all expression except the smoldering hatred in his eyes. Ophelia had been kept out of it. At Faith's insistence, the Staffords had retained the lawyer Tom had found for Eduardo—now happily home and practicing his English via E-mail. The lawyer had brought in a family therapist after a briefing from Faith. What had happened to Ophelia—her manipulation by Simon and Gertrude, her parents' and stepparents' treatment—amounted to child abuse. Ophelia, now using her middle name, Christine, had ended up at a wonderful boarding school in western Massachusetts, where Scott and his girlfriend, Karen, visited regularly. Faith had invited Joanie/Ophelia/Christine for Thanksgiving, but she'd called and said she was going home to Vermont. “I miss the mountains” was how she put it, but Faith also had a feeling she missed her mother. Be
fore hanging up, she'd fessed up to one last thing—taking down the notes Faith had left on the doors at the condo to say they'd gone to eat lunch at Gracie's in Stowe. “I wanted to piss Mrs. Parker off. She was, like, keeping such tabs on Scott and Andy.” That wasn't the last piece of the puzzle, though.

Gertrude. She'd driven off in her VW bus on that winter Thursday, and so far the police hadn't had a single lead as to her whereabouts. Simon was evil, amoral, but Gertrude was worse. Gertrude, the free spirit, who considered herself above the law, filled the lives of those unfortunate enough to love her with poison. Faith wondered if Boyd had known during his last moments that the woman he had adored all his life had made the fatal substitution. Taking advantage of Ophelia's fragile psyche, her difficult relationship with her parents after the divorce, was another poisonous substitution. Gertrude had presented herself as the “good” mother, and the girl had become obsessed, literally bewitched. There was a lot of that going on last February, Faith thought, sighing.

The room came back into focus. Her plate smelled delicious again.

Everyone had been served. Tom asked that they bow their heads, and then he made a mercifully brief blessing, mindful of the cooling food.

“Amen,” said Faith.

APOLOGY MUSHROOM SOUP

Combine the Madeira, ½ cup of the chicken broth, and the dried mushrooms in a small saucepan. Cover and bring to a boil, then remove from the heat and set aside for 30 minutes.

While the mushrooms are soaking, clean and slice the leeks. Dice the onion. Melt the butter in a large soup pot and sauté the leeks and onions until they are soft, about 10 minutes. Stir in the flour and continue to cook for 5 more minutes.

Add the remaining chicken broth, the beef broth, the fresh mushrooms, the dried mushrooms and their soaking liquid, and the salt and pepper. Simmer covered for 10 minutes, then uncovered for 20 minutes more. Cool the soup slightly and then puree in batches in a blender, or in the pot with an immersion blender. Return the soup to the pot and heat it thoroughly over low heat.

Serve with a generous dollop of sour cream or crème fraîche.

This makes a hearty supper dish and will serve 6. As a first course or luncheon dish, it will serve 8.

Making the soup a day ahead improves the flavor.

I am indebted to my nephew, David Pologe, for this recipe and to his mother, Sheila, who first served it to me.

LLAPINGACHOS
WITH SALSA DE MALI POTATO CAKES WITH PEANUT SAUCE

Put the potatoes in a large mixing bowl and set aside. Fry the onions in the butter until translucent. Add the onions and cheese to the potatoes. Mix well and season to taste with salt and pepper. Form into 12 patties, packing the potato mixture firmly so that the cakes do not fall apart when fried. Fry them in the oil until golden brown on both sides, approximately 4 minutes per side. Set aside and keep warm.

Fry the onions in the oil until they are translucent. Add the garlic, tomatoes, and peanut butter. Stirring constantly, simmer the mixture until all the ingredients are well blended and heated thoroughly. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve the warm salsa de Mali over the
llapingachos
.

This is a good buffet brunch dish, and you should figure on one potato (2 patties) per person. Faith likes to use Yukon Gold potatoes. Check ahead to make sure that none of your guests is allergic to nuts!

Incan and pre-Incan civilizations in Peru had more than two hundred varieties of potatoes, which were native to the country and were “discovered” by Europeans when the Spanish conquistadors arrived. Potatoes are still a staple in Peruvian cuisine. Many farms and markets selling organic produce offer a wide variety of potatoes, some of which are heirlooms—long-forgotten varieties. Experiment with these for fun.

Salsa de Mali is also good with rice. For a luncheon, it may be served in individual ramekins, accompanied by a salad.

SPANAKOPITA GREEK SPINACH PIE

Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Wash, dry, and chop the spinach. Add it to the eggs and mix well. Add the feta cheese, onion, and rice, then mix again. Add salt and pepper to taste, remembering that feta cheese is salty.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Melt the butter in a small pan. Grease the bottom and sides of a 15" × 10" × 2" baking dish. Place 1 sheet of phyllo dough in the pan so that it covers the bottom and comes up the sides. Brush with melted butter and repeat this process with 4 more sheets. Pour the spinach, egg, cheese, and onion mixture into the pan and spread evenly. Then add the 7 remaining sheets of phyllo in the same manner. Be sure the top layer is well covered by melted butter. Pierce in several spots to allow steam to escape.

Bake for approximately 45 minutes. The top should be golden. Remove and let sit for 5 to 10 minutes, then cut into squares and serve. Serves 6 as a main course.

GLAD'S BROWNIES

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease and lightly flour a 13" × 9" pan. Melt the chocolate squares together with the butter. Cool it slightly and beat in the sugar, eggs, and vanilla. Stir in the flour. Mix well, then add the cherries, walnuts, and chocolate chunks or chips. Put the batter in the pan and bake for about 35 minutes. Be careful not to overbake. Cool in the pan and serve. Makes a very generous 1½ dozen.

You may vary this recipe by substituting dried cranberries, golden raisins, or dark raisins for the cherries and pecans for the walnuts. Attributed in the book to Faith as a child, this recipe is actually the creation of the author's dear friend Gladys Boalt, who lives in Stormville, New York.

AUNT SUSIE'S CAKE

Preheat oven to 350°F. Combine the cake mix, eggs, and oil in a bowl. Mix according to the directions on the box. Fold in the oranges, including juice, and mix well. Pour into 3 greased round cake pans. Be sure the orange pieces are evenly distributed. Bake for approximately 25 minutes. Remove cakes from the pans and cool on racks while you make the frosting.

Drain the pineapple, reserving the juice. Mix together the juice and the instant pudding. Add the Cool Whip and drained pineapple, then mix. Spread some of the frosting between the layers and use the rest on the top and sides of the cake.

This recipe comes from Linda Gronberg-Quinn. At the Malice Domestic Convention's auction for the benefit of Maryland's John L. Gildner Regional Institute for Children & Adolescents, she was the high bidder
for a chance to put a favorite recipe in one of my books. Her husband's aunt Susie, Susan Houston, is a “prototypical southern lady” writes Linda, and “we are constantly amazed at how wonderful her cooking tastes, even though the recipes are seemingly simple ones.” This is the dessert Aunt Susie takes to a pig pickin', where, after picking the succulent meat from the roast pig, people always save room for her cake. Whatever your main course, you'll save room for this layer cake, too. Thank you, Susie and Linda.

 

This particular group of recipes isn't as heart-healthy as some in Faith's collection. Perhaps this has something to do with the terribly cold winter so much of the country experienced in 2004 and the subsequent desire for hearty fare. Nonetheless, egg substitutes are excellent and may be used in place of eggs. Also, low-fat cheese works well in the spinach pie and for the Peruvian potato cakes. All the recipes can be made without salt.