Devil's Food Cake

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Sadie softened her expression and smiled. “Donna will be back soon,” she said, though she hoped that wouldn’t really be the case. “You look a little chilled. Can I get you something to drink while we wait? Coffee, hot cocoa, tea?” Assuming Mrs. Hender had those things in her kitchen, Sadie felt she could justify taking over another woman’s kitchen—it was for a good cause, after all.

  “Oh, uh,” Thom said, looking at his watch.

  “Hot cocoa ought to do the trick,” she said, wishing she’d thought to bring a thermos of French chocolate with her. “Come into the kitchen with me and we’ll get you taken care of. It will only take a few minutes. Are you hungry?”

  Thom hesitated as though unsure that going into the kitchen was a good idea. “I don’t—”

  “Nonsense,” Sadie said. She stepped forward and took Thom’s elbow. The arms of his jacket were wet and cold. “I’m sure Donna will be back any minute, then you can ask her all about Josh.” She pulled on his arm and he didn’t fight her. That was always a good sign. She gave him another tug and he fell into step behind her as she made her way back to the kitchen, swallowing her discomfort with acting so much at home. Once there she ushered Thom into a chair at the table. Thom sat down like an obedient child who didn’t know how to protest. Which was pretty much exactly what Sadie was looking for. However, it was a little worrisome how easy it was to convince Thom to do things her way.

  Once she was certain he wouldn’t bolt, Sadie began opening cupboards in search of hot cocoa mix. Come on, Donna, she grumbled in her mind. You owe me one! But the woman didn’t keep her cupboards well-stocked. However, Sadie did find a partial can of baking cocoa way in the back of one of the cupboards. Sadie grabbed it, mixed it with some sugar she found in a sugar jar, a pinch of salt, and then added it to half a mug of water. While it heated in the microwave—which was easy to operate, thank goodness—Sadie opened the fridge and found some coffee creamer. Perfect! Breanna had learned to make a homemade cocoa mix in Girl Scouts several years ago and it had become a Hoffmiller staple ever since. Of course, Sadie had to improvise in Donna’s kitchen, but at least the basics were there. Within two minutes of depositing Thom on a kitchen chair, Sadie was able to push a steaming—but not too hot—mug of hot cocoa in front of him. It wasn’t French chocolate, but circumstances, and the sparse pantry of the Hender home, didn’t lend themselves to such a decadent drink anyway.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly as he wrapped his hands around the mug.

  “Oh, you’re very welcome,” Sadie answered. “You didn’t arrive at the fund-raiser in time for dinner, so you must be hungry.” She scanned the counter before her eyes rested on a half-full bag of corn chips. She’d seen cheese in the refrigerator and, even if she didn’t find anything else, that was a meal right there.

  “Killer nachos,” she said, smiling at Thom as he lifted the mug to his lips.

  “What?” Thom put the mug down, startled.

  Sadie had already grabbed the bag of corn chips. “Killer nachos,” she repeated. “You’ll love ’em, and it should only take a couple of minutes to throw them together.” There were plates in the cupboard by the fridge and olives hiding behind the enchilada sauce. A can of green chilies was also hiding in a corner, and upon closer inspection, Sadie realized that Donna Hender wasn’t all bad—she had three kinds of cheese.

  “Do you like onions?” Sadie asked, popping her head up over the refrigerator door. “Not everyone does. And then there are people like my mother, who smelled like onions for forty-eight hours whenever she ate them.”

  “Um, I like onions,” he said flatly.

  Sadie gave him another wide smile and went back to the fridge. There was half a tub of sour cream on the second shelf. Perfect! As she worked, she paid careful attention to what Thom was doing when he thought she wasn’t looking. He removed the paper from his pocket and smoothed it out on the table while Sadie assembled her ingredients. She wished she could see his facial expression, but he was too far away and had his head down, studying the words. She tried to close the door to the refrigerator quietly so as not to remind him she was even there, but once he heard the click, he quickly folded the paper and put it back in his pocket.

  Classic Cocoa Mix

  * Bre’s recipe

  2 cups non-fat dry milk powder

  1 cup white sugar

  3⁄4 cup unsweetened cocoa

  1 cup powdered non-dairy creamer

  Dash of salt

  Dash of cinnamon

  Combine all ingredients and store in an airtight container. To make cocoa, add 3 tablespoons of mix with 1 cup hot water. Stir until combined.

  * Bre loves a scoop of vanilla ice cream added to her cocoa, though Cool Whip works in a pinch.

  Chapter 22

  After putting the paper away, Thom patted down his suit, removing four mini bottles from the interior pockets of his suit coat and lining them up one by one on the table.

  Sadie bit her lip, unsure of what to do. He really shouldn’t be drinking, but if his alcohol problem was as bad as Jane had said it was, withdrawal symptoms could be horrible, and Sadie suspected Thom hadn’t had a drink for at least a few hours.

  Thom twisted the top off the first bottle and tipped it to his mouth. It was gone in one swallow and Sadie cringed. She’d never understood how people could slam hard liquor like that. He replaced the cap and put the bottle back in line with the others.

  “So,” she said as she spread a layer of corn chips on a large plate. “You and Josh have stayed close all these years, huh?”

  “Josh?” Thom repeated, as if not sure who Sadie was talking about. Then he nodded quickly. “Oh, yes,” he said simply as he twisted the top off the next bottle in the lineup.

  Was he going to drink all of them? She’d heard of people who used whiskey and the like to heat up—maybe that’s what he was doing. But she wrestled with the morality of letting an alcoholic drink.

  Sadie found the cheese grater in the third drawer down next to the sink while Thom put the second empty bottle back in line. “I hear Josh is doing quite well for himself,” Sadie said, though it was a complete jump to conclusions on her part. She needed to get Thom talking without broaching any of the sensitive topics too overtly.

  He began twisting the lid off the third bottle.

  Sadie couldn’t stand it. “I don’t think you should drink that,” she said, taking a few steps closer to the table. “You’ve already had two and while I know it makes you feel warm, alcohol actually lowers your core body temperature, which is really not a good idea for you right now.”

  He looked at her and surprised her by smiling. “It’s sweet of you to care.” He returned the bottle to the table. “Maybe I will wait a little while.”

  He looked at his watch and Sadie glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was 10:38.

  He folded his hands and placed them on the table, which Sadie took as a good sign. Moving as fast as she could, Sadie assembled the first layer of chips, cheese, and toppings before putting the plate in the microwave for forty seconds. The cheese was mostly melted when she removed the plate, so she assembled the next layer of nachos while assessing the next layer of investigation she was approaching.

  As the tray spun and the machine hummed behind her, she turned away from the microwave and leaned against the counter. “That was a very nice thing you did, Thom.” Sadie pretended not to notice Thom’s confusion and continued speaking. “He’s lucky to have had such a benefactor.”

  “Who?” Thom asked, his voice timid.

  The microwave dinged, and Sadie removed the plate of nachos and added one more layer, this one with extra cheese. She cooked it for an entire minute this time, wanting to make sure all the layers of cheese were adequately melted. At home she baked them—it was really the best way to keep the chips crunchy—but there wasn’t time for that now, of course. She turned to face Thom once again.

  “Josh,” Sadie said with a little laugh, as though it were obvious. “That was v
ery generous of you to pay for his college.”

  Fear and surprise jumped into Thom’s eyes before he looked away.

  Sadie continued to smile as she reassured him both in words and in tone that he had no reason to be fearful of what she knew. “There aren’t many people who can look past their own pain enough to ease someone else’s burden.”

  “Well, uh . . .” Thom said, though he sat up a little straighter. “Josh is a good kid.”

  Is he? Sadie wondered. The microwave dinged one last time, and Sadie removed the plate from the microwave, retrieved the paper towels from the dining room table—she hadn’t found any napkins—and took the plate to Thom who, despite his reluctance in the beginning, couldn’t take his eyes off the heaping plate of melty deliciousness.

  “It’s a little messy,” Sadie said as she slid the plate of nachos in front of him and tore off a couple paper towels from the roll. “Would you like to take off your coat? I don’t know who does your dry cleaning, but I know I always have problems with them treating grease stains properly. It makes me crazy because if they try and fail, the stain never comes out at all.” She didn’t comment that his suit was soaking wet and he’d never warm up if he stayed in it. And she’d never get the paper out of his pocket.

  Thom nodded and shrugged out of his jacket. Sadie eased it off his back and casually slung it over her arm. The moisture quickly seeped through her own jacket, but she pretended not to notice. “Would you like a glass of milk?” she asked, trying not to let her excitement at having Thom’s coat show too much.

  “Yes, thank you,” Thom said as he gingerly lifted the first chip, a string of cheese refusing to let go as he lifted it higher and higher.

  Sadie nodded and went to the fridge. Behind the cover of the open refrigerator door, she slid the damp paper out of Thom’s suit pocket and into the pocket of her sweats. It was almost too easy. She grabbed the jug of milk from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard next to the sink. She returned to the table and laid Thom’s coat on the chair beside him at the same time he returned the third empty bottle to the lineup.

  He glanced at her with a guilty look and then went back to his meal. “This is wonderful,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me.”

  Sadie felt her heart soften a bit, despite herself. She looked at the empty bottles and back at his face. What she saw was a broken human being. Not a famous author or a person of power, just a lonely old man with no one in his life but his dead son’s best friend and his agent—who was now dead too. No wonder the drink had gotten to him.

  “I’m so sorry about Mr. Ogreski,” she whispered, not wanting to shatter him further and yet feeling compelled to offer her sympathy.

  Thom’s movements slowed and he put down the chip he was holding. He didn’t respond for a few seconds. Then he reached for the fourth bottle.

  “Please don’t,” Sadie said, putting her hand on his arm. “Just eat. You need some food in your stomach.”

  He looked at her hand on his arm and then up at her face, making her wonder if he was as hungry for physical touch as he was for home-cooked food. He didn’t speak, but just nodded and picked up the chip again once Sadie removed her hand.

  She pulled out the kitchen chair across from him, searching for questions she could ask about tonight when the sound of a very loud—and far too familiar—engine rumbled up the driveway behind her. Immediately she stood ramrod straight and took a quick breath.

  “This is delicious,” Thom said with his mouth full and a string of cheese stuck to his chin.

  The engine went silent.

  She turned to look out the window in time to see Mrs. Hender appear at the side door to the garage, a roll of what was either duct tape or a very ugly bracelet in her hand. Mrs. Hender caught Sadie’s eye through the window. For an instant they both froze. Then Donna hurried toward the steps leading to the kitchen door six feet from where Sadie stood.

  “I think Donna’s back,” Sadie said as she spun toward the doorway that would take her out of the kitchen before Donna could come inside. It wasn’t until Sadie was at the front door that she realized she should have locked the kitchen door to buy herself a few more seconds. Too late now.

  Sadie reached the front door, threw it open, and hurried down the steps after pulling the door closed behind her. Mrs. Hender was dangerous and Sadie wasn’t willing to chance another injury.

  She didn’t know where to go once she reached the end of the driveway. She looked left and right down the sidewalk in front of the house. There was a car parked next door and she thought she could hide behind it if she needed to, even though she was fully aware she might be overdramatizing this whole thing. Mrs. Hender would probably be satisfied with Sadie being out of her house. The duct tape was probably for . . . repairs.

  The snow had changed from light and dry to heavy and wet, melting the snow that had been sticking to the roads earlier and leaving a layer of slush behind. Surely Mrs. Hender wouldn’t want to come after her in such icky weather. However, the sound of quick footsteps made her turn around. Donna Hender was racing down the steps straight for her. It was one thing to confront Sadie in her house, but to chase her down on the streets? The woman was not playing with a full set of fondue forks.

  Sadie immediately turned right and broke into a run, glancing over her shoulder only long enough to see Donna’s rage-filled face twenty yards behind her, the roll of duct tape in her hand.

  Seriously? Sadie thought to herself. This was insane, but Sadie kept going, moving her legs as fast as she could, though it wasn’t fast enough. Sadie’s head was throbbing and her clogs kept sliding on the slick pavement. Donna Hender was at least twenty pounds heavier than Sadie, though, and she could only hope that would work to her advantage. What was it they said—every excess pound was five pounds of pressure on your joints?

  “I won’t let you send my son to jail!” Mrs. Hender yelled from behind Sadie.

  Sadie didn’t bother answering. She needed all her energy to continue forward. By the end of the block, Sadie was panting heavily and her head felt as though it had split right open. She could feel Josh’s key bouncing in her jacket and was grateful for deep pockets. As she rounded the corner, she glanced over her shoulder. Mrs. Hender wasn’t gaining anymore, but she wasn’t giving up either. The woman gave new meaning to the term overprotective parent. Sadie dropped her head and pushed forward even harder as ragged breaths ripped from her haggard lungs.

  Knowing she couldn’t keep up this pace much longer, she looked around in hopes of coming up with a new plan. What were her options other than letting Donna catch up or running until she collapsed? A few houses ahead of her there was a long RV parked in a driveway, the back extending almost to the street. It blocked her view of the front porch of the house behind it, but she could see a couple of windows on the side of the house. They were lit up so Sadie figured someone must be home.

  Swallowing the inevitable embarrassment she was sure to feel as she burst in on some poor family, she ran around the RV and then made a sharp turn toward the front porch. With the trailer offering some protection, Sadie barreled up the stairs and grabbed the doorknob at the same time as she threw her full weight into the door. She pictured something like out of an action movie would happen as she burst inside, shut the door behind her, and then explained herself to the surprised occupants of the house and demanded they call the police. She’d give them the shock of their lives, but it would be a great story for them to tell at work on Monday!

  Unfortunately for Sadie, the owners of this house did not share the sense of community safety Sadie had. The door was locked.

  Worse, Sadie’s full-speed run did not react kindly to the solid oak door barring her way and she bounced off the heavy door like the green tomatoes Shawn used to throw at the side of the garage. After hitting the door with her shoulder, she ricocheted back against the metal porch railing which hit her hip-high and she flipped headfirst over the bar. She managed to twist to her side
, crushing the same shoulder she’d smashed against the door and landed on what felt like a pile of sticks. The air had been knocked from her lungs and she rolled off of whatever she’d landed on and flopped onto her back. It was impossible to scream without air but as she struggled for breath, Pete’s words came back with great clarity: Go home, Sadie.

  Oh, if only it were that easy.

  Killer Nachos

  1 pound hamburger

  1 packet taco seasoning

  1⁄4 cup water

  1 bag corn tortilla chips

  Toppings

  4 cups of cheese (a combination of Monterrey Jack, cheddar, mozzarella, and Colby work the best)

  1 (4-ounce) can diced green chilies

  1 (4-ounce) can sliced black olives

  1–2 diced fresh tomatoes

  1⁄4 cup diced onions

  Sliced jalapeños, to taste (optional)

  Garnish

  1⁄2 cup guacamole

  1⁄2 cup sour cream

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brown hamburger, drain, and add taco seasoning and water. Simmer and stir until water is well incorporated. Layer half of the corn chips in a 9x13 pan and bake for ten minutes to make chips crispy. Remove from oven and add a layer of hamburger mixture, cheese, and other topping ingredients as desired. Cover with the remaining chips and bake 6 minutes, until cheese begins to melt. Remove from oven and top with remaining toppings. Bake an additional 8 minutes, or until cheese is melted. Garnish hot nachos with a dollop of guacamole and sour cream and serve immediately.

  Serves 4 to 6.

  * Nachos can be made in the microwave, but the chips won’t be as crispy.

  Chapter 23

  Pounding footsteps approached from the direction of the sidewalk, causing Sadie to open her eyes in panic. In her oxygen-deprived state she had no means to defend herself. However, she’d apparently landed on some kind of shrubbery—an evergreen by the looks of it since it was still green and blessedly thick in February. Though it was mangled by her fall, the bush might hide her from Donna Hender’s view.