“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 follo
wed 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.
“Aunt Sadie?”
Sadie lifted her head in time to get a huge armful of leaves thrown in her face. She was frozen in shock as not three, but four giggling voices erupted around her. Once she opened her eyes, she looked at Pete, the ringleader, who was quickly showing the boys how to scoop up armfuls of leaves with their hands. Fig’s leaves kept going right though his arms, but he gathered as though the next assault depended completely on him.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Sadie said, running to the patch of grass where they were refueling and filling her arms with leaves for her retaliation. She threw the armful, which was rather paltry due to her haste, but caused the boys to squeal and drop their leaves. She grabbed a fistful of leaves and stood up, raising her hand high above her head. The boys screamed and started to run toward the playground. She cast a triumphant look at Pete, who was trying to get them to focus on gathering leaves again, and made chase, despite her being no match for the speed of three hyperactive boys.
As she chased them back to the playground, she was struck with the unexpected thought of whether or not Jane had ever played like this as a child. One day Sadie would find a way to learn more about what made Jane, Jane. Until then, she had a battle to win!
Chapter 5
It was nearly 5:30 when they got back to the house. Kalan and Chance ran around the yard while Pete got Fig out of his car seat and Sadie collected her purse and Kalan’s backpack.
As she closed the door to the detached single-car garage, she saw that Pete had already reached the wooden steps that led to the back door of the house. He bent down and picked something up.
“What’s that?” she asked as she came up behind him.
“The cookie plate.” Pete stood up and turned toward her, the plate Sadie had given Delores in his hand. “There’s a note with it,” he said, holding them both out to her.
She took the plate in one hand and the note in the other.
“She must have brought it to the back porch to make sure you got it,” he added before turning toward the door and digging the key from his pocket.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sadie said. She tucked the plate under one arm and opened the note.
“So much for your ploy to go back tomorrow, huh?” Pete said, smiling over his shoulder before opening the door. He winked at her and she scowled playfully. She didn’t realize he’d figured out her plans for a second meeting with Mrs. Wapple. The three boys whipped past her, nearly knocking her off balance as they raced up the steps. It only slowed her reading down a little bit, though.
Dear Mrs. Hoffman,
Thank you for the cookies, they were delicious. I’m not around much and wanted to make sure to return your plate. I doubt I’ll see you again during your stay but hope you enjoy the rest of your visit. Thanks again.
Delores
Sadie frowned and read the note again. By the end of the second read, Sadie wondered if Delores was trying to give her the brush-off—making it clear she didn’t expect, or want, to see Sadie again. That made Sadie feel bad. She had hoped to befriend this woman, even if only for a few days. She also noted that while Delores said she wasn’t around much, the boys watched her enough to have come to expect seeing her somewhat regularly.
Taking a breath in hopes it would help her shrug off her hurt feelings, she climbed the steps and let her mind turn to dinner—clam chowder. What could be a better dinner to make in Boston, especially at this time of year? She’d clipped the recipe from the newspaper several years ago when Garrison’s most popular restaurant, Baxter’s, had printed the recipes for three of its best dishes. Usually, when Sadie got a recipe from somewhere, she adjusted it to meet her own specifications. Not so with Baxter’s clam chowder. It was perfect just as it was, and Sadie’s attempts to improve it were pointless. She hoped the boys would eat it; Breanna had been fourteen before she’d attempted eating clams. And Shawn had only started to put up with them since moving to Michigan.
After dinner—which everyone but Chance had eaten without complaint—Sadie made a point to close the drapes over the picture window, not wanting to be tempted to watch Mrs. Wapple if she came out. Pete cleaned the kitchen while Sadie entertained the boys by reading Where the Wild Things Are—one of her favorites, never mind that the movie was disappointing. At 8:00, she kissed each boy on the forehead, grateful for their exhaustion. Apparently the plan to wear the boys out today had worked. In the process, she’d been able to experience another of the beautiful parks around Jamaica Plain. She wondered if all the Boston suburbs were this green and cozy; it almost felt like they were in a small town rather than in one of the largest cities on the East Coast.
After saying goodnight half a dozen times, she softly closed the boys’ bedroom door behind her and returned to the kitchen. She stopped short when she realized Pete wasn’t where she’d left him, but had moved to the living room. The lights were off and he had pulled the curtain open in the middle so he could look out the window.
Sadie took silent steps toward him. He was intent enough that he didn’t notice her until she came right up behind him and said “Boo” in his ear. He startled, and she laughed before standing on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder.
“She’s digging again,” Pete said, stepping to the side so she could have a better view.
Sure enough, Delores Wapple was digging with the same shovel she’d used last night. Her hair hung loose down her back, and she wore what looked like a knitted bathrobe, or maybe one of those long sweater jackets, badly stretched out.
“How long has she been out there?” Sadie asked. In the faint streetlight, Delores looked nothing like the polished woman Sadie had talked to that morning.
“A few minutes,” Pete said. “I heard scraping and looked out to see her dragging the shovel along the sidewalk. What do you think she’s looking for?”
“Or what is it she’s trying to hide,” Sadie said. They were too far away and it was too dark for them to see exactly what she was doing—other than digging.
Suddenly, Delores leaned forward and lifted both hands to her head, dropping the shovel into the dirt. Sadie watched the woman’s shoulders lift, hold, and then lower as though she’d taken a deep breath. A moment later, she bent down, slow and stiff, and picked
up the shovel again.
“She’s in pain,” Sadie said, almost to herself.
“She’s done that a few times,” Pete said. “Almost looked like she lost her balance once.”
Pumpkin Roll Page 4
