Pumpkin Roll
Page 35
To serve, use a fork to pull roast apart into portion sizes. Cut Yorkshire pudding into 12 servings. Serve roast and pudding on a plate, covering both with gravy. Green beans or peas make a good vegetable side dish.
Acknowledgments
I wrote this book during a difficult and busy time of my life and through the process have gained insights into the Lord’s hand in my life and the blessing of so many people who have kept me sane and made this book possible.
Thank you, once again, to the fabulous staff at Shadow Mountain who make my story readable: Jana Erickson (product director), Lisa Mangum (editor, and author of The Hourglass Door series, Shadow Mountain, 2009–2011), Shauna Gibby (designer), and Rachael Ward (typographer). These women make an amazing pit crew or cheerleading squad, depending on the day—thank you.
I am once again indebted to my writing group: Becki Clayson, Jody Durfee, Ronda Hinrichson (Trapped, Walnut Springs, 2010), and Nancy Campbell Allen (Isabelle Webb series, Covenant, 2009–2012). These women are such troopers and make the rate at which this series is coming out possible. I also had several beta readers who gave me suggestions on how to get the book to blend just right: my dear friends Melanie Jacobson (The List, Covenant, 2011), Julie Wright (The Hazardous Universe series, Covenant, 2011 and beyond), my wonderful aunt, Sandy Drury, and my sister-friend-therapist, Crystal White—each of whom made significant contributions to the finished product and saved me much sanity while sacrificing their own since none of them got to read an actual final draft.
As always, this book would not be complete without the crew of Sadie’s Test Kitchen, who hone the recipes into the masterpieces they become: Don Carey (Bumpy Landings, Cedar Fort Inc., 2010), Danyelle Ferguson ((dis)Abilities and the Gospel: How to Bring People with Special Needs Closer to Christ, Cedar Fort Inc., 2011), Whit Larson (Whitty Baked Beans), Sandra Sorenson, Laree Ipson (Laree’s Ginger Cookies), Annie Funk, Michelle Jefferies, Megan O’Neill, and our newest baker, Lisa Swinton. These people are amazing. Without them, there would be no culinary in this mystery series.
Thank you to my wonderful husband, Lee, for letting me do my marathon write nights and weekends even though he’s been in a busy and difficult part of his life too. He is the keystone to everything. Thank you to my kids, who support and put up with me as well as the school lunch program that ensures they have one square meal a day five days a week for two-thirds of the year. Thank you to the fans who encourage, the friends and family who put up with my whining, and the other writers whose books I get to enjoy when I am in desperate need of a break.
How grateful I am for the gifts I have been given, both through struggles and successes. I know my Father in Heaven loves me and is growing me every day to be the person He knows I can be. I am grateful for the part in that process that my writing plays, and to all of those people who make it such a rewarding journey.
About the Author
Josi S. Kilpack grew up hating to read until she was thirteen and her mother handed her a copy of The Witch of Blackbird Pond. From that day forward, she read everything she could get her hands on and accredits her writing “education” to the many novels she has “studied” since then. She began her first novel in 1998 and hasn’t stopped since. Her seventh novel, Sheep’s Clothing, won the 2007 Whitney Award for Mystery/Suspense, and Lemon Tart, her ninth novel, was a 2009 Whitney Award finalist. Pumpkin Roll is Josi’s fourteenth novel and the sixth book in the Sadie Hoffmiller Culinary Mystery Series.
Josi currently lives in Willard, Utah, with her wonderful husband, four amazing children, one fat dog, and varying number of very happy chickens.
For more information about Josi, you can visit her website at www.josiskilpack.com, read her blog at www.josikilpack.blogspot.com, or contact her via e-mail at Kilpack@gmail.com.
“Berry” Delicious Praise...
Blackberry Crumble
“Blackberry Crumble offers up a thrilling murder mystery! Most people are not who they appear to be. I can’t give away the really shadowy characters or the killer, but there is a killer—and this killer means business!”
—Gabi Kupitz
“Josi Kilpack is an absolute master at leading you to believe you have everything figured out, only to have the rug pulled out from under you with the turn of a page. Blackberry Crumble is a delightful mystery with wonderful characters and a white-knuckle ending that’ll leave you begging for more.”
—Gregg Luke, author of Blink of an Eye
Key Lime Pie
“I had a great time following the ever-delightful Sadie as she ate and sleuthed her way through nerve-wracking twists and turns and nail-biting suspense.”
—Melanie Jacobsen, author of The List, http://www.readandwritestuff.blogspot.com/
“Sadie Hoffmiller is the perfect heroine. She’s funny, sassy, and always my first choice for crime solving. And where better to solve a mystery than the Florida Keys? Key Lime Pie satisfied with every bite!”
—Julie Wright, author of Cross my Heart, www.juliewright.com
“The title of Key Lime Pie will make you hungry, but the story will keep you too busy to bake. Even when oh-so-busy amateur sleuth Sadie Hoffmiller vows to stay out of police business, life comes up with a different plan. A missing girl, a very interesting man with bright blue eyes, and plenty of delicious recipes all create a combination even Sadie can’t resist.”
—H.B. Moore, www.hbmoore.com
Devil’s Food Cake
“There’s no mistaking that Kilpack is one of the best in this field. Lemon Tart was good, English Trifle was better, but with Devil’s Food Cake she delivers a polished novel that can hold its own anywhere.”
—Jennie Hansen, Meridian Magazine
“Josi Kilpack whips up another tasty mystery where startling twists and delightful humor mix in a confection as delicious as Sadie Hoffmiller’s devil’s food cake.”
—Stephanie Black, three-time winner of the Whitney Award for Mystery/Suspense
English Trifle
“English Trifle is an excellent read and will be enjoyed by teens and adults of either gender. The characters are interesting, the plot is carefully crafted, and the setting has an authentic feel.”
—Jennie Hansen, Meridian Magazine
Lemon Tart
“The novel has a bit of everything. It’s a mystery, a cookbook, a low-key romance and a dead-on depiction of life.... That may sound like a hodgepodge. It’s not. It works. Kilpack blends it all together and cooks it up until it has the taste of, well... of a tangy lemon tart.”
—Jerry Johnston, Deseret News
Books in this series
Lemon Tart
English Trifle
Devil’s Food Cake
Key Lime Pie
Blackberry Crumble
Pumpkin Roll
Banana Split (coming Spring 2012)
Enjoy this sneak peek of Banana Split
Coming Spring 2012
Chapter 1
Have you been snorkeling before?”
Sadie looked up from adjusting her life jacket. Konnie was the last woman, other than herself, still in the small boat that had taken them offshore where the snorkeling was nani—Sadie hoped nani meant wonderful and not deadly.
“Years ago,” Sadie said. “In Waikiki, when my children were younger.”
“I’m not sure that even counts,” Konnie said with a tinkling laugh. Her wide smile fit perfectly in her round face. Her black hair was in one long braid down her back, only a few curly tendrils framing her face. “Everyone knows Oahu has the worst snorkeling in the islands. Here on K’auai, on the other hand, it’s amazing.”
“I can’t wait,” Sadie said, but her tone was flat. She felt guilty about lying. She was still trying to figure out why she had come. She didn’t like boats or sand or swimsuits, but she’d accepted Konnie’s invitation simply because she’d refused most of the others Konnie had extended on behalf of the Blue Muumuus, a group of local older woman similar to the Red Hat Club Sadie had se
en in her hometown of Garrison, Colorado.
“The weather is perfect today,” Konnie continued. “And the tide is just right. You won’t believe the variety of coral you’ll be able to see.”
Sadie nodded, peering over the side of the boat with trepidation. Coming to K’auai was supposed to cure the anxiety that had overwhelmed her after what happened in Boston. Despite three months in this tropical paradise, however, Sadie was no better than she had been before. Only more isolated.
The water was clear enough that she could make out the shape of the coral beneath the shifting surf, but it was unnerving to think of the world hiding beneath the surface of the water. When Sadie had come to Hawaii before with her children, she hadn’t been a big fan of being in the ocean, but her displeasure then was nothing like the terror she felt now. But she was determined not to let her anxiety get the best of her in front of this woman who was trying so hard to be Sadie’s friend, so she swallowed her fear and forced a smile.
When Sadie had moved into the condominium complex almost three months ago with plans to stay awhile, Konnie had immediately befriended her. She didn’t even care that Sadie was a haole—Caucasian—or that she was a newcomer to an island not always open to mainlanders. Konnie was big and loud and wonderful in every way, which was a little bit scary to Sadie right now. Well, everything was scary to Sadie right now.
“It’ll be fun,” Sadie said, but she could feel her sweat glands kicking in despite the breeze that whisked away any rising temperatures. They were only a quarter mile offshore, not far from a small village too far north to be frequented by the tourists who flocked to the southern part of the island, and too underdeveloped to be attractive to those who sought out the North Shore. It would have been a beautiful drive coming up here from the town of Puhi, where Sadie was staying, if Sadie had been able to focus.
“I’m going in,” Konnie said, getting to her feet and causing the boat to rock back and forth. Sadie forgot to breathe until Konnie sat her voluptuous self on the side of the boat and the rocking evened out. “You can lower yourself in if you’d rather not jump.”
A moment later, Konnie put on her mask and fell backward over the side just like an islander who had spent half her life in the ocean—which was exactly what she was. The ensuing wave caused by Konnie’s entry made the boat rock more than ever, and Sadie clung to the side with both hands. Konnie surfaced moments later and yelled for Sadie to jump in. “One of the tour companies brings tourists out here around noon—time’s a wastin’.”
Sadie nodded, hoping she looked confident as she sat on the side of the boat and let her legs dangle over the water. She chose the side opposite her companions—Konnie and five other members of the Blue Muumuus—so that if she freaked out once she hit the water, the boat would hide it from their view. She could then join them once she was sufficiently recovered.
“You’re okay,” Sadie said to herself under her breath, eyeing the water and keeping her breathing even as she double-checked the clasps of her life jacket. She was the only woman who had chosen to wear one. “You’ll be just fine. You’re the youngest and spryest woman here. You can do this.”
She looked over her shoulder, where six backs bobbed in the water, the tubes of their snorkels looking as though they were poking out of their heads. The stillness of their bodies bothered her, and she looked away, pulling on her mask and putting the mouthpiece of the snorkel in place. Another deep breath filled her with just enough courage to finally plunge into the water. She hadn’t considered that the snorkel would fill with water, though, and so her first attempt at breathing was salty and wet. She headed for the surface and spit out the mouthpiece and the water, coughing and sputtering. Her heart was racing, and she felt a wave of nausea as she gripped her life jacket with both hands and went to work convincing herself she wasn’t drowning. After taking another minute to get her bearings, and berating herself for being so dramatic, she put the salty mouthpiece of the snorkel back into her mouth. She practiced breathing through her mouth for another minute. Maybe four.
Konnie rounded the boat, her mask pushed up on her head. “Are you okay?”
Sadie gave her a thumbs-up, took a deep breath, and put her face in the water.
The coral reef was full of fascinating shapes, colors, and textures. Grasslike anemones swayed as though blown by a breeze. The water was clear enough that she could see every detail of the scene below her. It’s beautiful, she told herself as her heart rate increased. Ethereal. Amazing. And yet her lungs wouldn’t allow her to draw a full breath. She watched a parrot fish lazily moving a few feet away as though she weren’t there. But she was there. In their world, trying to appreciate the resplendence while battling a full-fledged panic attack due to the fact that their world was completely creepy! Some of these things were poisonous, and there were certainly creatures lurking at the bottom ready to pull her to the depths and never let her go. She’d seen Finding Nemo.
After only ten seconds she had to lift her face out of the water. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t subdue the terror. But with her head lifted, she was aware of her feet now being even deeper in the water. She tried to pull her feet up, but would that really deter the horrible sea monsters lurking beneath her? She’d seen that movie about the surfer who lost her arm to a shark. What did she look like from the bottom of the sea? A Hostess cupcake like in the commercials? She spat out the mouthpiece and tried to inhale, but it was as though her throat was no longer connected to her lungs. She couldn’t get the air in. Why not? What was wrong with her?
She turned toward the boat, knowing she had to get out of the water. Once she reached the side, however, she couldn’t figure out how to get in. The rim was too high for her to grab onto. Her gasps for breath were ragged, noisy. She couldn’t see any of her group. What if she passed out in the ocean? Would the fish eat her before anyone discovered she was gone?
You are being ridiculous, she told herself, ripping off her mask in hopes it would help her breathe. Over the last few months, she’d read several Internet articles about how to recover from anxiety attacks. None of the advice had talked about being in the ocean, but she clutched the sides of her life jacket even tighter and closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was simply resting on a punctured water bed. Her lungs opened up again. She took long, deep breaths and tried to clear her head. She felt oxygen returning to her brain and felt her body calming down.
Then something touched her foot, and her eyes flew open in renewed panic. She found herself thrashing toward the shore.
She had to get out of the water.
That the boat was right there and Konnie or the other women would certainly help her get in it didn’t cross her mind until she was crawling onto the sand, coughing and sputtering, desperate to get away from the water. The sand turned from wet to dry and was littered with sticks, rocks, broken shells, and pieces of deformed plastic the tide had left behind. This wasn’t one of the groomed beaches where machines cleaned up the shoreline before the tourists woke up. It was natural and messy, and her hands and legs were coated with sand as it stuck to her wet body. Something cut her knee, reminding her that she should stand up. But she didn’t want to do anything that would slow down her escape.
Finally, she collapsed, the bulky life jacket keeping her face out of the sand as she once again focused on breathing like a normal human being. It felt like forever before she felt safe. Then her thoughts turned to how she would apologize to her new friends who must think she was absolutely bonkers. She wasn’t so sure they weren’t right.
The nightmares that had plagued Sadie in Garrison had led to insomnia and too many late-night infomercials that provided her with more kitchen gadgets and exercise equipment than she could ever use. When her friend Gayle, her son, Shawn, her daughter, Breanna, and her boyfriend, Pete, had sat her down for an intervention, they told her she needed to get away for a little while. Unwind. Relax. She’d been optimistic about the change of environment, and who wouldn’t want to go to Hawaii? But alth
ough she was no longer ordering useless items off QVC, she stayed inside most of the time, and the only people she interacted with were the Blue Muumuus. She slept through the afternoons and was up most of the night, double-checking the locks every hour. The only time she left the condo was to clean the additional seven condos in the complex that were rented out by the week. The housekeeping job was her way of paying rent to her friend Tanya, who owned the complex but preferred her husband’s ranch in Arizona this time of year.
“I need help,” she admitted out loud to herself as water dripped off her hair, which was now past her shoulders, longer than it had been in decades. Before leaving Garrison, she’d had her stylist lighten it in hopes that she’d have more fun as a blonde. But she hadn’t kept it up, and the color had faded to a brassy grayish-yellow. Two inches of gray roots had grown out since her arrival. The climate seemed to accelerate how fast her hair grew, and she lacked the courage to go to a salon. Most days she tied her hair back with a bandana and avoided mirrors.