Pumpkin Roll

by Josi S. Kilpack

“Yes,” Gabrielle said, sounding exasperated. “I’ll come as soon as the reception ends. I’ll be alone, and I expect you to be alone as well. I don’t want to make a big production about this.”

  “Can I ask what it’s about?”

  “You said you wanted to help us,” Gabrielle said. She hung up before Sadie had a chance to prod for more details. Sadie returned the phone to her purse as she smoothed out the receipt and reviewed the details.

  “You’re not meeting with her,” Jane said as though it were fact.

  “It’s a public place,” Sadie said.

  Jane looked completely exasperated. “Are you kidding?”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I can’t miss the chance to get a face-to-face with her. You have to appreciate the opportunity to get that kind of interview.” She hoped appealing to Jane’s journalistic instincts would put them on the same page. Every other meeting with Gabrielle had been complicated, a one-on-one was Sadie’s best chance to figure out this woman. That Gabrielle had said she wanted help with something could either be a clever ruse or a humble request. Sadie was willing to risk it.

  Jane shook her head. “I’ll sneak into one of the other tables then so I can keep an eye on you. Make sure nothing happens that shouldn’t.”

  “No,” Sadie said. “I’m not going to take any chances of losing another opportunity with her. I’ll go alone.” Besides, as wonderfully helpful as Jane was, her strong opinions on what to do and how to do it were a little frustrating.

  Jane clenched her jaw, and Sadie braced herself for further argument but Jane just nodded. “I’m driving,” she said, turning back to the parking lot.

  “Me too,” Sadie countered, causing Jane to look at her with an annoyed expression. If she was trying to bully Sadie, it wasn’t going to work. “It makes sense for us to each have our own car now that we know we’ll be going separate directions at some point.”

  Jane didn’t seem to like that but after a moment she nodded and continued toward her car, while Sadie headed to her rental car, which blended in with all the other vehicles in the lot.

  A few minutes later, Sadie pulled up in front of Heather and Jared’s house. Jane pulled up behind her, parking alongside the curb. Sadie took a breath, noting the ghost decoration was back on the front door—she really hated that thing. She saw a red head bound past the living room window, proof that the family was indeed home. She was not looking forward to this meeting, but she grabbed her purse with the bag she’d gotten from the metaphysical store and hoped this would go well.

  “Do you mind waiting here?” Sadie asked after stopping at Jane’s window en route to the door.

  “Ah, I don’t get to listen to you get chewed out by the mama bear?” Jane asked, grinning widely, apparently recovered from their earlier tension. Sadie was glad Jane was over their disagreement, but she didn’t smile because the comment wasn’t funny. She was scared to death of facing Pete’s daughter-in-law, but she had to get the whoopie pies and she needed to make peace.

  Jane shifted into park and pulled out her map of Boston and her phone. “I’ll do some checking on that café you’re going to. Germaine’s, right?”

  “You don’t need to check on it, but thank you for your support,” Sadie said with sincerity, glad they were a team again.

  Sadie stepped away from the car, let herself into the gated front yard, and pulled herself up straight as she climbed the steps. Not wanting to overstep her bounds, Sadie rang the doorbell and then held her breath. Heather pulled the door open and stared at her.

  Sadie forced a smile. “I bought you a smudge stick,” she said, holding out the bag. “I hope you like it.”

  Heather stood there for a few minutes, the seconds becoming more uncomfortable with each tick of the clock. Finally, when Sadie was ready to kneel at her feet and beg for forgiveness, Heather took the bag and looked inside. Then she looked up at Sadie. “You bought a smudge stick? I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I don’t,” Sadie said, glancing at the stupid decoration swaying on the door. “Not really, but . . . well, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I thought this might help, you know, in case you were worried about . . . ghosts and things. The gal at the store recommended quarterly cleansings and said they are especially helpful this time of year.”

  They both stood there awkwardly, and Sadie could feel Jane smirking at her from the car. She hoped Heather would invite her inside before she gave Sadie a dressing down.

  “Have you heard from Pete?” Heather asked after a few seconds, surprising Sadie.

  “No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “Have you?”

  Heather shook her head and finally stepped back from the door, inviting Sadie in with a nod of her head. Sadie entered the house gingerly, closing the door and following Heather into the kitchen.

  “I called his phone, but maybe I can just ask you a question,” Heather said. She went to the counter and opened a cupboard.

  “Sure,” Sadie agreed, eager to be helpful in any way she possibly could.

  “It’s about someone getting in and out of the house,” Heather began as she rifled through the cupboards. “I went to check on the spare key.” She looked at Sadie. “It’s not there. I wanted to make sure you guys hadn’t used it before I made too big a deal out of it.”

  Sadie blinked. A spare key? Could that be the mysterious means of getting in and out of the house? Sadie hadn’t even thought of that. It was so simple. “I didn’t even know you had a spare key.”

  Heather dug around in the cupboard again. “Well, I haven’t ever used it, but when we first moved in, we put one under one of the flowerpots on the side of the garage, just in case. I need to check with Jared to make sure he hasn’t moved it sometime in the last three years, but if he hasn’t, that part might be solved. Aha, found it.” She stood up and set an 8x8 pan on the counter. She put the smudge stick inside the pan and began looking for something else in the cupboard.

  “You’re still going to do the cleansing?”

  Heather looked over her shoulder and smiled. “My mom used to do a cleansing every summer. I’ve never done one by myself, though.”

  “Oh,” Sadie said. “You don’t seem too worried about the key.”

  “No one got hurt,” Heather said. “And we won’t be staying here tonight anyway. Pete offered to put us up in the hotel, but I needed to repack and take care of some things here. I guess I’m just putting off the worry. Oh, I wrapped up your whoopie pies,” she said, waving toward the counter where several of the cake sandwiches were individually wrapped and stacked on the plate. “The boys loved them—thanks. Why are you taking the rest to Mr. Forsberk?”

  “Oh, um, condolences for his dog,” Sadie said. “Do you know him very well?”

  “No,” Heather said. “Roberta—she lives next door—said he’s a weird guy, and he’s always watching people so I keep my distance from him too.” She turned to Sadie. “I have a lot of strange neighbors, don’t I?”

  Sadie smiled. “They’re certainly colorful.”

  “I guess that explains why I enjoy the other women from church and playgroup so much.” Heather frowned. “I feel horrible about Mrs. Wapple, though.”

  Sadie nodded. “So do I. I feel sick every time I think about it.”

  “I’m assuming she’s doing okay,” Heather added as she pulled a fire wand, complete with a childproof switch, out of the drawer.

  “Me too,” Sadie said. “And I think she’ll get a lot of her issues taken care of now that a doctor is involved. I talked to her old landlord and he said she was taking medication and getting home visits from a doctor before she came here. I don’t think she’s had any medical care since then, which might explain her strange behavior.”

  “Why did you talk to her old landlord?”

  Sadie shrugged and traced the wallpaper seam with her finger. “I just wanted to get a good feel of who she is and who she was. I thought it might help the police and the doctors.”


  “Oh,” Heather said, looking at Sadie in an appraising way for a few more seconds. “You’re an interesting person, Sadie.”

  “Well, I certainly keep finding myself in interesting situations.” She paused and finally brought up the elephant in the room. “You’re not mad?”

  “I was,” Heather admitted. “Until Pete explained things to me. Whatever’s been going on isn’t your fault—or his—I can see that. You should have told us earlier though.” She pointed the fire wand at Sadie and closed one eye to make her point. “I’m a little ticked about that.”

  “We should have told you sooner,” Sadie agreed. “I wish we had. I’m really sorry, Heather. There is nothing worse than worrying about your children when you’re too far away to do anything about it. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Like I said, I know it’s not your fault.” Heather lowered the wand and inspected the smudge stick more closely. She seemed honestly excited to do the cleansing. “And I’ll feel better when I get this over with.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “It’s not hard. I’d like to make sure the kids stay outside, though. Could you keep an eye on them for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” Sadie said, eager to remain in Heather’s good graces. It was 4:15, so everything was on schedule so far. “I’ll just be out back. The lady said to sprinkle it with the cinnamon every now and again—I guess it helps with the smell.”

  Heather nodded as she clicked the lighter and put the flame to the end of the smudge stick. “Got it, thanks.”

  Sadie still thought the whole idea was just plain weird, but she headed out to the backyard.

  “Hey, boys,” she said, pulling the back door closed behind her. The temperature had to be in the high fifties, maybe even low sixties. The humidity still gave the weather an edge it wouldn’t have had in Colorado, but it was much more tolerable than it had been the last few days. With a little luck, Pete and Sadie would finish off their trip with a few days of a vibrant Indian summer.

  “Hi, Aunt Sadie,” Kalan said before disappearing down the slide behind Chance. Fig pushed a big truck up and down a patch of grass. Sadie spent a few minutes playing with them before she noted the smell of burning sage in the air. She looked toward the house and saw the windows along the back were cracked open, allowing the smoke to leave—maybe the spirits too. She rolled her eyes.

  It took another ten minutes before Heather proclaimed the house cleansed, by which time Sadie was feeling anxious about her timeline. She had to be to the JP police station by five thirty and then to her meeting with Gabrielle by nine thirty. She still had a busy day ahead of her.

  Sadie made her good-byes and then put five whoopie pies on a paper plate. Mr. Forsberk was a bachelor; he didn’t need the whole plateful. She was in the living room, shrugging into her coat when she got a text from Shawn asking how things were. She texted back a note saying that she’d call him later, then headed outside to make peace with Jane, who had been waiting for probably longer than she’d have liked.

  Jane was out of her car, leaning against the passenger side door. She pushed off when Sadie came outside and started walking toward Mr. Forsberk’s house, forcing Sadie to hurry to catch up with her. Sadie could do without the dramatics.

  “I’m sorry,” Sadie said as she caught up with Jane on the sidewalk. “I went as fast as I could.”

  “Right,” Jane said. “I see how high I am on your priority list.”

  Sadie turned to look at her, needing to read her expression. Jane grinned and slapped Sadie on the shoulder. “No biggie,” she said in a breezy tone. “Let’s get this over with.”

  But Sadie kept staring, and not just because of Jane’s quick shift in mood. “Did you do something with your hair?” Yesterday and this morning Jane’s hair had been spiked, arching over her head before smoothing down to curve around her other cheek—very Manga cartoonish. But the spikes had been brushed out, and instead of the punky-impaler look, Jane’s hair was soft and quite flattering. The style softened the too-sharp lines of Jane’s features. But her hair wasn’t the only change. “Are you wearing glittered lip gloss?”

  Jane’s cheeks pinked. She was blushing! Sadie quickly checked the sky to make sure it was still blue. “And you’re wearing a sweater!”

  Sadie didn’t realize she’d stopped until Jane grabbed her arm to get her moving again, leading her across the street. “It’s not a big deal,” Jane said. “I just wanted to make myself a little more presentable.”

  “That sweater has a collar,” Sadie commented. Glitter lip gloss? Collared sweaters? What was going on here?

  “I can clean up when I need to.”

  Which took Sadie to the next part of her question. “Why do you need to clean up?”

  Jane rolled her eyes and let go of Sadie’s arm, shooing her through Mr. Forsberk’s open gate. Sadie obediently climbed the steps. She knocked on the door and listened carefully for the approaching footsteps, trying to get back to the task at hand. She’d worried that Mr. Forsberk might not be home at all, but was gratified when he pulled open the door and blinked at her from the other side of his glasses. Then he looked at Jane, who smiled quite sweetly, and his face and balding head went red before he looked away, completely flustered.

  “Hi, Mr. Forsberk,” Sadie said, trying to make sense of his reaction. He hadn’t turned red when she’d been there earlier. “I brought you some whoopie pies. This is my friend, Jane.”

  “Hi,” Jane said in a voice that caused Sadie to do another double take. It wasn’t harsh and masculine, but rather soft, girlish, and casual. She put her hand out to Mr. Forsberk, who shook it quickly before dropping it. Jane fairly glowed while her lips sparkled. “Nice to meet you,” she added.

  Mr. Forsberk simply nodded.

  “May we come in?” Sadie asked after a moment.

  He moved to the side and Sadie let Jane enter first. She added a swagger to her step and gave Mr. Forsberk a dazzling smile that left Sadie almost as stunned as it left him. What was this, femininity? The sweater Jane wore was light green, a color Sadie had never seen on her, but it somehow worked with Jane’s coloring and white skinny jeans. Her choice of footwear—red Converse sneakers—stood out rather starkly against this softened version of Jane, but she looked . . . pretty. Not that she wasn’t attractive in the first place, but she had never played it up. At least not until now.

  Sadie shut the door behind her and held the plate out to Mr. Forsberk. “How was work?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Mr. Forsberk said. “Th-thank you for the . . . pies.”

  “You’re welcome,” Sadie said. Jane had stopped in the middle of the living room and looked around appraisingly, her thumbs hooked in her jean pockets.

  “Wow, you’ve got your own place,” Jane said appreciatively, turning to face him. “That’s so cool.”

  Mr. Forsberk’s mouth went slack as Jane’s glittery lips pulled into a smile, and she cocked her head to the side. “How do you like living in JP?”

  “I . . . I like it,” Mr. Forsberk said. “I like it a whole lot.”

  “I bet you do,” Jane said, looking around as though his home were expertly decorated. She shifted her weight, jutting out one hip, which made her look as though she actually had a figure. What was she doing? “How long have you lived here?”

  “Two years,” he said quickly, as though eager to impress her. “I, uh, haven’t really had the chance to clean up today.”

  He began gathering dishes and empty root beer cans from the coffee table, scurrying into the kitchen with them.

  “Oh, gosh,” Jane said with a girlish laugh. “There’s always better things to do than clean up.” She waved a hand as though dismissing the idea of housework entirely, then she moved toward the table. “Oh, cool, you’re into electronics?”

  “Sure,” Mr. Forsberk said. He began explaining to her the same thing he’d told Sadie that morning, although this morning he’d sounded embarrassed and now, talking to Jane, he sounded like an astrophysic
ist the way he took such pride in his hobby.

  Sadie knew she been completely forgotten but recognized the potential of such invisibility. She moved toward the end table and surveyed the contents. There was a remote control that looked as though it required a college degree to use, a few pieces of mail, and a stack of magazines—Electronic House and Photography 101. The third magazine in the stack had a familiar cover—a yellow Labrador with its mouth open and its tongue rolled forward. Sadie had a very vivid memory of the same magazine being overtaken by a spreading pool of red paint at Mrs. Wapple’s. She picked up the magazine and glanced over her shoulder.

  Mr. Forsberk was showing Jane some electronic gadget, which initiated Jane’s tinkling laughter and flirty “oohs” and “aahs.” Neither of them was paying Sadie any attention. The magazine title was Bark, like the name of Mr. Forsberk’s late pooch, and the articles listed down the left-hand side were all about grooming, travel, and the ten things your dog wants you to know.