Blackberry Crumble

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Sadie frowned. What did that mean? Lois noticed and explained. “Gambling and booze. A dangerous combination.”

  “Absolutely,” Sadie said, remembering the poker chip on Hugh’s key chain. “Is he still drinking and gambling?”

  Lois raised an eyebrow. “You met him—what do you think?”

  Good point, Sadie thought as she reflected on Hugh’s demeanor and obvious tension each time she’d observed him. “Isn’t that kind of weird? I mean, a vegan alcoholic gambler?”

  Lois laughed and patted Sadie on the knee. “If you lived in Portland, you wouldn’t ask that kind of question. Hugh is who he is. The drinking and gambling is one thing, but I think his food issue is all caught up in the fear of dying. We all have it—some worse than others. He’s got a lot of holes he’s trying to fill up. He’s just more creative than most on how he fills them. Don’t get me wrong, I love that boy like my own son, but he worries me a great deal too.”

  They ate a few bites before Sadie spoke again. “So, Jim got a second mortgage to pay off Hugh’s debts, which was the reason he split with his business partner. I’m guessing that wasn’t the only time Jim bailed out Hugh, though, right?”

  Lois shrugged. “I can’t be sure. But little things Jim and Jolene have said over the years make me think Hugh still has financial issues. Did you see his truck? He’s been driving it since high school. Anyone who could afford it would have bought a new one by now.”

  “I think May needs to know about these concerns,” Sadie said. “Maybe she can get some safeguards in place.”

  Lois let out a breath. “I don’t want to make this a heavier burden on her; she’s already carrying so much.”

  “Better now than after things go south,” Sadie said.

  Lois shrugged, but obviously didn’t love the idea, so Sadie decided to drop it. The sun was going down, casting a stillness over the evening. Lois had white Christmas lights wrapped around the beams of her covered porch, and they flickered on, though it was bright enough outside that they didn’t stand out like they would in another half an hour. The mosquitoes were out too, and Sadie slapped at one hovering by her ear.

  “I’m curious,” Sadie began after lining up her next items of interest. “After the fallout of SK Systems, did Jim ever talk about Keith Kelly much?”

  Lois shrugged. “Now and again, but not often. It was a painful split, and Jim didn’t like to revisit it.”

  “So, he hadn’t talked about his former partner recently?” Sadie asked, hoping she still sounded casual.

  “Not to me, but, well . . . I looked out for Jim in little ways—taking him bread, letting in service people when he needed repairs done on his house—but I’m much closer to his children, and none of them have said anything about Keith other than the letter he sent them.” She shook her head. “He’s like a shark going after blood in the water.”

  “What about Richard Kelly? Has anyone talked about him lately?”

  She suddenly had Lois’s full attention, which made her a little uncomfortable. “Richard Kelly?”

  Sadie nodded and hoped she wasn’t blowing her cover by asking too many questions.

  “Jim hasn’t mentioned him for years, and no one else would bring him up,” Lois said. She was watching May again, and Sadie followed her eyes. “He’s the reason May left Portland, you know. The thought of running into him was more than May could take. No one talks about him; I can’t remember the last time I even heard his name, really.”

  “She really loved him, didn’t she?”

  “He was her moon and stars,” Lois said softly, looking into her ice cream as she reflected on the memory. “Richard was there for May when Leena died. He helped give her the stability she needed as her family defined themselves again. After he ended the relationship, she was just . . . lost. Jolene was the same way, you know, which is why Gary was such a great match for her; he kind of bridged that gap between the before-Leena-died and after. Of course, I did my part as well, but Jolene and Gary were a good match. May never found out if things could have been that way for her and Richard, so she never really got closure.”

  Lois looked up and sighed, and Sadie glanced over at May again. May was holding someone’s baby, and Sadie was so struck by the expression on her face that she momentarily forgot the line of conversation.

  May ran her finger along the hairline of the sleeping infant—no more than a few months old, if Sadie wasn’t mistaken. May’s smile was reverent, her eyes heavy with . . . longing? Sadie felt her own heart tighten. She knew the feeling reflected on May’s face—knew it well. The woman sitting next to May said something, causing May to look up. May pulled the bundle even closer to her chest as though afraid she was going to be asked to give it back to its mother. Instead, the woman pointed to the dessert buffet. May nodded eagerly and was left alone with the baby, that same soft look returning to her face.

  “How could she have thought the relationship would work after the company fell apart, though?” Sadie asked. “With the animosity between Keith and Jim, it would be practically impossible for May and Richard to ever really make things work.”

  “I told her that once, too, but she felt sure that she and Richard could heal the gap.” She rolled her eyes. “Us old ladies know better, but those kids still thought love conquered all. When that crashed, May did too. I had hoped she would find someone in Ohio, but I guess she didn’t.” She turned to look at Sadie. “Is she seeing anyone?”

  “Not that I know of,” Sadie said honestly. “Maybe she never really got over him.”

  Lois nodded, a sad expression on her face. “Maybe she gave up.”

  “On love?”

  “On a lot of things,” Lois said. Her ice cream was gone, but she balanced the empty bowl on one knee, which was crossed over the other one. “When Jeremy died about a year before the company split, she took it hard, just like the rest of us.”

  “Jeremy?” Sadie repeated, scanning her brain for the name.

  “Jolene and Gary’s younger son,” Lois said, her face reflecting her confusion. “Didn’t May tell you about him?”

  “No,” Sadie said with conviction. “She hasn’t said anything about him.”

  Chapter 32

  Sadie listened carefully to Lois’s story about Jolene’s second child. Her older boy, Bryce, was at school in Seattle, and the one mentioned in the legal trust, which had specifically mentioned Jolene’s living son. Jeremy, on the other hand, had developed leukemia at the age of nine and had died two years later after all treatments had been exhausted.

  “That poor family,” Sadie said when Lois finished. “How do they stand it?”

  Lois shook her head. “Everyone finds ways to cope. Jolene and Gary had Bryce and each other, and me and Jim. Maybe May’s coping mechanism was to not create those connections because they hurt when they break.”

  “If that’s true, it’s tragic,” Sadie added. “I cannot imagine my life without my children. They are my life’s greatest accomplishment.”

  “You and me both,” Lois said. “And it would be a shame if May never experienced that joy because of her fear of the unknown. She would make a wonderful mother. I wish she could accept that we have more choices then we think we do when things get hard. We don’t have to suffer through our trials, and the people we love don’t have to suffer with us. After every tragedy, it seems there’s a rebirth of some kind—a new awareness or an appreciation for the person they lost. It’s really rather beautiful, if you ask me.”

  Sadie reflected on that. “Yes, there is beauty in overcoming sorrow. But if you get stuck in the heartache, it feels as though the sun will never rise. I can see how someone like May might feel that way.”

  “Me too,” Lois said, uncrossing her legs and setting her empty ice cream bowl on the table. “I just wish there was a way to fix it. But I won’t be the one to ask her about it. I hate bringing up any of those tender topics with May.”

  Sadie nearly said “Me too,” but then realized she might have to as
k about such things at some point so she ought not rule it out. They were both watching May now, who was reluctantly relinquishing the baby back to the arms of its mother, when Sadie’s phone rang, startling her. She fumbled to pull it from her pocket, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name—Richard Kelly; she’d programmed his number into her phone last night. She immediately turned the screen away from Lois so she wouldn’t see the name, counting on the other woman’s elderly eyesight more than her own quick reflexes.

  “I’ve got to take this,” she said, standing. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course,” Lois said, standing up as well. “I need more ice cream anyway.”

  Sadie hurried toward the fence line and put the phone to her ear. “Hello,” she said as she took the last few steps, keeping her voice low despite being fairly isolated. “Richard?”

  “Yes,” Richard said. “I was able to get the password to Dad’s online calendar.”

  A thrill swept through Sadie’s body. “Oh, wow,” she said, immediately jumping to what her next step should be. She couldn’t think of anything. “Um, what should we do now?”

  “Well, since it’s online, I could meet you somewhere, and we could look at it together. Do you have a computer?”

  “I do,” Sadie said. “How about my hotel”—she looked at her watch—“at nine o’clock?” That should give her time to finish up at the picnic as well as review the copies of both Keith’s files and Hugh’s before she met with Richard. She could use the transition time.

  “Sure,” Richard said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Great,” Sadie said. She hung up, then turned back to the group, eager to leave. It certainly hadn’t been a wasted evening. She’d learned a lot from Lois, but having access to Keith Kelly’s appointment book was big, too. She hoped that May wouldn’t ask too many questions too soon about what information she’d been able to get from the neighbors. The only person Sadie had really talked to was Lois, and Lois hadn’t given her what May would want Sadie to have received.

  Sadie worried it would be hard to leave May so quickly, but when Sadie said she was ready to head back to the hotel, May chose to stay at the party. Sadie said her good-byes to Lois and the few people she could remember names for, and then headed back to May’s house to collect the files she’d left behind.

  She let herself in through the kitchen door and headed back to the study, coming up short when she realized the study door was closed and the light was on. In the darkened house, the light bled through the cracks around the doorway. Sadie approached with tentative steps. She’d had no need for the lights to be on when she’d been sorting through files that afternoon, and she’d left the door open when she’d left for the picnic. Hugh’s file was sitting on the desk; she couldn’t leave without it.

  She pressed her ear to the door and listened carefully. She could hear tapping—typing, maybe—but little else. If there was more than one person in there, they would probably be talking. She continued listening while debating her options. She could go in and confront whoever was in there, which was her first inclination, or she could wait for them to come out. This wasn’t her house, so she had little authority to make a complaint, but that led her to the realization that this wasn’t anyone’s house. She, therefore, had as much right as anyone else to confront an intruder.

  Weapons. She knew from previous experience it was unwise to face confrontations of this nature unarmed. She tiptoed back into the kitchen and considered ways to arm herself, wishing she’d thought to bring her blackjack. A knife was out of the question because she couldn’t imagine stabbing anyone if it came down to it. Blunt force, however, she could live with. She carefully pulled open drawers, frowning when she found the marble rolling pin—too heavy and brutal for Sadie’s tastes. She would have to settle for something else, but what? A cookie sheet? Perhaps a glass mixing bowl? The unwillingness to use knives limited her options. She was weighing out the merit of the pan versus the bowl—literally, which was easier to wield—when she heard shuffling footsteps in the hallway. She looked up in time to see what at first appeared to be a very old woman turn the corner of the kitchen. She came up short when she saw Sadie standing there, a cookie sheet in one hand and a large mixing bowl in the other.

  “Oh,” they both said in unison.

  They then both paused in unison as well. It took Sadie only a moment to realize she was likely looking at Jolene, who was supposed to have been picked up by her husband well over an hour ago. While Jolene looked older than Sadie, she realized, upon further inspection, that Jolene’s appearance was deceptive due to her illness. She wore a scarf tied over her head, and her skin was pallid and her face had an emaciated look to it. Wireless glasses balanced on her nose, and she pushed them back against her face with one hand. Her thin shoulders pulled inward, causing her to appear somewhat hunched. Though Jolene was probably in her forties, Lois exuded more health and well-being than this woman did; she did not look to be on the road to recovery. Oh, this poor family.

  Sadie lowered the pan and bowl, grateful beyond words that she hadn’t stormed into the study with either one of the kitchen items raised over her head in attack. She didn’t imagine that would be a healthy event for Jolene. “I’m Sadie. May’s friend.”

  “Is May here?” Jolene said, making a cursory scan of the kitchen.

  “She stayed at the picnic,” Sadie said. “I was going to head back to my hotel, but I needed to get my things.”

  Jolene looked at the cookie sheet and mixing bowl with confusion.

  “And . . . I was putting away some dishes,” Sadie added before doing just that, sliding the cookie sheet and the mixing bowl in the cupboards from where she’d removed them. “Um, I’m assuming you’re Jolene?” Her voice raised at the end, making it a question.

  Jolene nodded. “I had to walk around a little. I’ve been in that bed all day and couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  Sadie smiled sympathetically. “I can imagine,” she said, wondering if she should share her sympathies. It seemed out of place, since they’d only just met. “Can I get you something?” she asked.

  Jolene waved the offer away and took a step toward the hallway that led to her room. “Oh, I don’t mean to bother—”

  “It’s no bother,” Sadie assured her. “Truly. I could make some scrambled eggs, maybe, or open a soda for you.”

  Jolene hesitated, and Sadie hurried to the fridge, pulling open the door. “We’ve got grapes, some yogurt, and some Jell-O cups.” She looked at Jolene over the door of the refrigerator. “Do any of those sound good?”

  “Is there any red Jell-O?”

  Sadie nodded and reached for a cup. “One red Jell-O, coming up.” She pulled off the foil lid and found a spoon, placing the cup on the counter as Jolene slid into one of the three barstools pushed up against the overhang of the island. Sadie turned to the cupboard, only to realize all the glasses were packed away. No matter. She went to the closest box and unwrapped a glass before rinsing it and then filling it with water from the fridge. Hydration was an important element of healing. She set the glass down in front of Jolene and watched as Jolene raised a spoonful of gelatin to her mouth.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Sadie asked, busying herself with wiping down the counter so that Jolene wouldn’t feel like Sadie was hovering.

  “This is fine,” Jolene said. “Thank you.” Sadie wiped the counters some more until Jolene finally broke the silence. “It’s sure nice of you to come up here and help May. I wish I had more to offer.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Sadie said. “My dad passed away a few years ago, so I understand the difficulty of . . . putting . . . things . . . in order.” She swallowed and berated herself for talking about death to a woman who was sick.

  Jolene peered at her from behind her glasses, a knowing look in her eye. “Please don’t abridge conversation on my account,” she said. “I know it doesn’t look it, but I’m actually beating this thing. The doctors are very optimistic.”


  “Really?” Sadie said, then cleared her throat when she realized she sounded a bit too surprised. “I mean, I’m so glad to hear that.”

  Jolene smiled, creases capturing her mouth in parenthesis. “Me too,” she said. “I’m sure May’s filled you in on our family’s up close and personal relationship with cancer.”

  Well, May hadn’t, but everyone else had, and Sadie assumed that counted. “I honestly can’t imagine it,” she said quietly. “Your family has been through a lot. I’m relieved that they won’t have to go through it again with you.”

  Jolene looked away. “Not soon, anyway,” she said. “In fact, my husband and I are going on an Alaskan cruise next month; it’s something we’ve been planning for a long time.”

  “I’ve heard that’s a fabulous cruise. Did you know they have midnight buffets on cruises? Can you imagine? All the food you can eat, all day and night?” Sadie shook her head in wonderment at the whole thing. “Incredible.”