The spices zinged exactly as they should, and she savored every bite, knowing she dared not have more than three cookies. Maybe four. She’d managed to lose seven pounds over the last several weeks and didn’t want to undo her progress by getting carried away.
Then again, this was a unique situation. A five-cookie situation, perhaps.
Or six.
After finishing the final cookie, her stomach rebelled at the thought of more. She obeyed, and put the rest of the cookies on a plate. Eric had liked them, and she’d promised him the recipe. As Pete had suggested, she imagined that Eric did need a friend about now. Her stomach flip-flopped, and not because of the cookies. Was visiting Eric appropriate after what had happened earlier? And yet, didn’t ignoring his situation make her uncompassionate?
Besides, if these cookies stayed in the house much longer she’d eat the rest.
On the drive to Eric’s house, she attempted to calm her rising anxiety using every approach she could think of. She tried to talk herself out of it, blaming her discomfort on having eaten too many cookies. And then she berated herself for being such a silly woman about it in the first place. In the end, when she pulled up in front of his house, she was assaulted by memories of the last time she had been there, two months earlier. It had been such a strange night, and yet Eric had helped her in every way he could—ending up with community service for his efforts. Didn’t she owe him something now that he was the one facing a difficult situation?
After taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, locked it, and headed up his front steps. She glanced only briefly at the tangled bushes she was all too familiar with and then knocked on the door.
She heard the locks click. She straightened, and, when Eric opened the door, held up the plate of cookies. He looked at her first, then the cookies, and then back at her. But Sadie’s attention was drawn to a suitcase a few feet behind him. She stared at it for a moment before meeting Eric’s eyes.
“You’re leaving?”
Eric looked over his shoulder at the suitcase and then back at Sadie before inviting her in. As she stepped inside she realized the house was cleaner than she remembered it, but that wasn’t saying much. There was still a general cluttered look about the house. Piles of newspapers, jackets thrown over chairs, and a hundred and one things that didn’t belong in the living room. Like the teapot sitting on the ottoman. How did he stand it? Could people with such different expectations of home and cleanliness make a relationship work?
“They won’t have an answer for me until Friday,” Eric said, interrupting her thoughts and pulling her attention away from the messy house. “There’s a red-eye out of Denver tonight.”
“What if it’s not her?” Sadie asked.
“What if it is?”
“What about your work?”
“I’m not the only locksmith in town,” Eric said with a one-shoulder shrug. “I already talked to The Lock Shop. They can do the rekey I have scheduled for tomorrow; we cover for each other.”
Sadie was out of arguments, but didn’t want him to go. Why not? It made sense that he should. If Sadie were in his place, she’d go.
“Maybe you can take these with you, then,” she said. “Do they confiscate cookies at security now?”
Eric smiled. “I’ll put them in my suitcase so they get checked.” He looked from the plate to Sadie’s face. “Thank you.”
“I only wish I could do more.”
Eric cocked his head to the side. “Do you really?”
“Of course,” Sadie said, but even as she said it, she wondered what she could possibly do.
“Then come with me.”
Sadie felt her mouth drop open. “Wh—what?”
Eric took a step closer. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
Sadie stared at him, at those deep blue eyes that wouldn’t let her go. Hadn’t she wondered what it was like to be Eric, facing such a difficult situation alone? And now he was reaching out, asking her to help him through it. And yet there were so many warning bells going off in her mind she couldn’t hear anything else. She had broken up with Pete less than an hour ago.
Eric reached up and ran his thumb along her jaw. She held her breath and then got control of herself and took a step backward. “I can’t, Eric,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting about the spring fund-raiser for the high school tomorrow, and I volunteer with Meals on Wheels on Friday, and the Renaissance dinner with Gayle is on Saturday—”
“It’s okay,” Eric cut in, but the disappointment was obvious. He turned back to his suitcase and fiddled with something on the zipper. “I knew it was a long shot.”
Sadie’s own words rang back to her: “I only wish I could do more.” And yet she’d said no when he asked her for help. But how could she say yes?
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling exceptionally lame.
“It’s okay,” Eric said, offering her a forgiving smile. He straightened and looked at his watch. “I’d better get going. Thanks for the cookies.”
Oh yeah, cookies. That was all she could do to help? Really? “Do you have a Zip-loc or Tupperware or something? It will make them easier to pack.”
“Sure,” Eric said. “I can take care of it.” He took the plate, brushing her fingers in the process.
“I’m sorry I can’t go,” she said again, aware of how pathetic she sounded even as she searched for absolution.
“I said it’s okay,” Eric said. Then he smiled. She smiled back. They stood for a few more seconds.
“Well, I, uh, better go,” Sadie said. Eric just nodded. Should she ask him to call her and tell her what he found out? Was that rude in light of the fact that she was refusing to help him in the one way he’d asked her to?
“Drive safe,” he said, showing her to the door.
“You drive safe,” Sadie said. He was the one catching a flight at Denver International. She was going home. Where she’d worry about him all night long. “Are you leaving your car at the airport?” she asked. Should she offer him a ride? But it was almost three hours to Denver—six hours round-trip. That seemed . . . inappropriate somehow.
“I’ve got a buddy in Denver,” he said, pulling the door open. “I’m going to his place first and he’ll take me to the airport so I don’t have to worry about my car.”
Sadie turned. “That’s good. Um, if you need . . . anything else . . . let me know.”
Lame! Could she be any lamer?
“I will,” he said.
Sadie nodded, not wanting to delay him any longer as she headed for the porch steps. She heard the door shut softly behind her and the locks fit back into place as she headed for her car.
Even though she felt sure that refusing the invitation was the right thing to do, she felt horrible about it. She knew she had a very long night ahead of her. Not as long as Eric’s, though. Once again she pondered on what it would be like to be him right now.
Chapter 5
It took hours for Sadie to fall asleep. To distract herself after returning home, she cleaned, then did some laundry, and then reorganized her spice cupboard. She’d managed to collect three containers of basil since the last time she cleaned it out.
At midnight she imagined that Eric’s plane was just leaving, or had just left, or was just about to leave, and the guilt hit her hard. But imagining what it would have been like if she’d accepted Eric’s offer made her shake her head. What would people say if she’d left town with him? What would Pete think? Her reputation had been damaged after the library shooting; she couldn’t afford to chip away at it any more than she already had.
Around two o’clock she fell asleep, certain she would have dreams about Eric since he was all she’d thought about in the hours before she went to bed. Instead she dreamed she was doing a Lysol commercial and couldn’t say the word contamination. Go figure.
The ringing of the phone next to the bed woke her up, but she was surprised to find her bedroom filled with daylight when she opened her eyes. She reached for the ha
ndset while looking at the digital clock. The numbers read 9:09! Sadie couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past eight and therefore never bothered to set an alarm. She was supposed to be at the high school by ten.
“Hello?” she said into the phone as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, making herself a little dizzy in the process.
“Sadie?”
It only took a moment to recognize the voice. “Eric!” she said, gripping the phone tighter as a warm shiver ran down her spine. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Eric said quickly. “I’m in Florida. I need a favor.”
Sadie’s stomach sank. Was he going to ask her to go to Florida again? Would he understand if she tried to explain the whole reputation thing?
“Actually, two favors,” he added.
“O–kay,” Sadie said, hesitation in her voice.
“Remember how back in February you said you’d clean my house after you brought those stinky files into it?”
“Ye–es,” Sadie said, carefully. She’d reminded him of it a few times, but he always winked and said he’d let her know when he was ready. He was going to collect on that now?
“Well, I’m wondering if I can trade you for something else.”
Trade? What did he need more than some housekeeping?
“Clean my trailer instead,” Eric said. “I just listed it in the paper, which means people will start calling on it tomorrow morning. My neighbor agreed to show it, but he doesn’t know glass cleaner from furniture polish. I know you’re busy, but—”
“Sure, it’s not a problem,” Sadie said, relieved. This was something she could do, and it would help ease her guilty conscience. “I can work on it this afternoon. Is the trailer unlocked?”
“No,” Eric said. “But the key to the trailer is in the house, hanging by the back door. The house key is inside the second cabinet on your left inside the garage, and the key to the garage is around the back of the shed, underneath the third stepping-stone.”
Sadie scrambled for paper and a pen in the drawer of her nightstand. “You’ll need to repeat that,” she said, holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder. She had to test three pens before finding one that worked. It was time to clean out her bedside table drawers.
Eric repeated the instructions, and Sadie kept her questions about the over-complication of his key hiding to herself. “Okay,” she said after repeating the instructions back to him, finally finding a pause in her thoughts long enough to let a question take root. “Why are you listing the trailer now?”
Eric paused. “I need a little cash.”
“Why?”
“Um, the second favor is a little easier,” he said, ignoring her question. “There’s a box in the corner of my bedroom closet; I need it shipped to me overnight. I can pay you back when I get home.”
“What’s in the box?” Sadie asked. She looked at the clock again. He’d only been in Florida a few hours. “What’s going on, Eric?”
He ignored her questions. “Could you send me that box as soon as possible? I think it needs to be to FedEx by two in order to make it overnight.”
Sadie tapped the pen on the notepad. “Eric,” she said, slow and calculated. “What’s going on?”
He was quiet. “I really need your help with this, Sadie,” he said.
Sadie waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He needed money and the contents of a box and he wasn’t going to tell her why. But he had called her for help. “What does the box look like?”
Eric let out an audible sigh of relief. “It’s an old Sunkist Orange box,” he said. “FedEx said they’d either rebox it or reinforce the existing one if necessary so you don’t need to do anything special. I’ll text you the address where I’m staying, okay? I really appreciate this, Sadie.”
“I’m glad to help,” Sadie said. In fact, she was fairly itching to help. How long would it take to open that box and have a look at whatever was inside?
Chapter 6
Unfortunately Sadie didn’t have time to get to Eric’s before her meeting at the high school. She took copious notes on the information discussed, but her head was across town, trying to imagine what was in that box. The meeting ended at 11:30; she made an excuse for why she couldn’t grab lunch with a couple of the other committee members and made a beeline for Eric’s house.
Sadie found the rock that hid the garage key and then the key to the house which let her inside. The hinge creaked when she opened the door, but she didn’t even pause as she went inside, worried that if she acted hesitant a neighbor might call the police on her. She peeked around doorways until she found what had to be Eric’s bedroom. She paused at the threshold, vastly uncomfortable with the idea of entering. She looked to her left and her right, as though someone might be watching, then lifted her chin, smoothed her shirt and walked into the room, feigning confidence she didn’t feel. His bed was unmade—big surprise—and she tried to ignore it while reminding herself that she was a grown woman. What was there to be uncomfortable with?
There were piles of laundry on the floor and a stack of books on the bedside table. She gave them both a mere glance—intent on her destination.
It took a little digging, but within a couple minutes, Sadie found the box. It took another minute to wrestle it out of the corner of the narrow closet, and she was cursing every pack rat she’d ever met by the time she finally dragged the box into the room. She was sweating, and she rolled her shoulder, which had begun to rebel against the efforts. She’d still clean the trailer, but one day she was going to get her hands on Eric’s house as well. It needed some serious attention. If the thought created a deeper concern about their personal compatibility, she ignored it for now. There were only so many things a woman could worry about at one time.
The box demanded all of her attention, and anxiety settled in her stomach as she looked at it. It didn’t belong to her, and Eric had asked her simply to ship it. And yet, she’d be the one signing off that it didn’t contain anything hazardous. It would be irresponsible to ship something without any idea of what that something was, right? Plus, Eric had said FedEx might have to repack the items. On the one hand, that meant he knew other people might see what was in the box. On the other hand, that meant the contents were probably not hazardous. Sadie sighed, her curiosity burning. He hadn’t told her not to look.
That final thought was all the encouragement she needed. She squatted and, using her legs as instructed by every exercise DVD she’d ever watched, hefted the box, only to find it wasn’t that heavy. It was still big, however, and she carried it to the unmade bed and put it down on an area relatively free of rumpled bedding. It would be easier to look through the box while standing.
She began to wrestle the top half of the box off, then stopped and pushed the comforter and top sheet farther away, giving her a flat surface on which she could lay out the contents. She returned to the box, slid the top off, and prepared herself for what she would find inside.
A red sweater. Two three-ring binders—one for a class on Shakespearean literature and another labeled Math 1050. The dates on the pages of notes were from three years earlier and the name typed on a returned assignment in the front pocket of one of the binders read “Megan Burton.” A chill ran down Sadie’s back as she realized she held Eric’s missing daughter’s things, but it also compounded the questions in her mind. Eric needed these items? Why?
Sadie had planned to take only a peek at the contents, but that was forgotten as she continued unloading the box, carefully placing everything on the bed in search of what Eric might need so badly. There was a box of checks—half full of new checkbooks and two used booklets that held only the duplicates of checks already written. There were two pairs of flip-flops, a Zip-loc baggie full of hair stuff: bobby pins, a hair brush, elastics, and a couple stretchy headbands. She pulled out a square tea tin about six inches tall and four inches wide containing miscellaneous receipts, some refrigerator magnets, and a couple
of photos; the meager contents didn’t fill it up by any means.
The Sunkist box also held a couple pairs of jeans, a black bra, two yoga DVDs, and a music box that looked as though it belonged to a six-year-old—ballerinas in pink tutus pirouetted around the sides. Sadie opened the music box and watched the ballerina inside spin around while a tinny version of “Swan Lake” filled the room. The contents of the music box seemed to be several single earrings, a silver necklace, and a few beaded bracelets.
That’s it? Sadie wondered as she looked at the bare cardboard of the bottom of the box. No journals, planners, unopened mail? There wasn’t even an address book or old cell phone. It was just . . . dregs, leftover items that seemed to have no value, no purpose—especially three years after the owner of the items had disappeared.
Sadie’s eyes were drawn back to the tea tin and she removed the lid again, pulling out the three photos and fanning them in her hand. One was of a redheaded girl making a face: her cheeks were blown out, her lips pursed, and her eyes crossed to the extent that it was difficult to determine what she really looked like. Sadie considered that it could be Megan, but the next photo seemed a more likely possibility. In this one a dark-haired girl with bright blue eyes looked back at the camera while she leaned against the chest of a young man whose arms were draped protectively around the girl’s waist. They were on a dock or a boat or something, the ocean stretching behind them and wind blowing through their hair. Both of them were strangers to Sadie, of course, but the blue eyes of the girl looked very much like Eric’s.
The third picture was of a cat: a gray Persian. It looked up from a tiled floor with a red bow tied onto a lock of fur on its head. Sadie had never seen a cat with a bow in its hair before; she thought that was usually reserved for little yippy dogs.
Sadie looked at the other papers in the tin box and picked up a yellow credit card receipt from Texaco. At the bottom was a signature: Megan Burton. The M was fancy, almost like calligraphy, hinting at a personality behind what was otherwise just a name on a gas receipt. Sadie rubbed her thumb over the fancy lettering and wondered what had happened to this girl. She’d had a life, she was in college, and yet her ambition and goals led her nowhere. So much life now resigned to a box. Sadie wondered how many people had holes in their lives where Megan had once been.
Key Lime Pie Page 3
