Blackberry Crumble (44 page)

Increase heat to medium and gradually add milk, stirring constantly until mixture is thick and bubbly.

Add potatoes, salt, pepper, half of the green onions, half of the bacon, and 1 cup of cheddar cheese. Cook until thoroughly heated. Stir in sour cream (add extra if necessary for desired thickness).

Serve soup with remaining portion of onions, bacon, and cheese sprinkled on top. Serves 6.

*To make soup from scratch rather than with leftovers: Wash raw potatoes and bake in the oven at 400 degrees for about 1 hour or until done. Be careful not to overcook them and make them too mushy. Let potatoes cool before cutting. Scoop out insides of potatoes and set aside. Then follow the recipe using the freshly baked potatoes.

Acknowledgments

In 2009, Deseret Book sponsored me on a book tour throughout the western United States with my friend Julie Wright (
Cross My Heart,
Covenant, 2010). Along the tour was my first and only visit to Portland, Oregon, and I knew immediately I wanted to set a book there.

I came home, toiled and whined far more than was warranted, and eventually handed the book over to my publisher. A big thank you to that Deseret Book team who made this a reality: 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).

Thanks, too, to my sisters, Cindy Ellsworth and Crystal White, who joined my friend Melanie Jacobsen in the pre-reading phase of this book—and boy, was it rough when it went to them! Thank you to Tawnya Gibson and my cousin-in-law Alisa Watson for some of the Portland weirdness I was not getting on my own. And thank you to Gregg Luke (
Blink of an Eye,
Covenant, 2010), who gave me some medical facts that, while they didn’t all end up in this book, have been saved for later use, they were
that
good.

Once again, I couldn’t have done this without my test kitchen bakers: Annie Funk (Annie’s Triple-Berry Summer Salad), Michelle Jefferies (Loaded Bread Dip), Don Carey, Danyelle Ferguson (Second-Chance Baked Potato Soup), Laree Ipson, Megan O’Neill, Whit Larsen, Sandra Sorenson, and our newest member, Lisa Swinton. Thanks goes out to Luisa Perkins for making up the Salmon and Wild Mushroom Casserole recipe for me and my good friend Cindy Voorhees, who also donated the Marvelous Bran Muffin recipe. Without the help of such wonderful cooks, I could never pull this off. Thank you, guys.

Thank you to my family, friends, and fans who have loved Sadie and sent me notes about how much they’ve enjoyed the series. Every one of those notes adds a drop to my lamp of motivation, and I so appreciate every thought that is shared. Thank you to my “girls”: Annette Lyon, Heather Moore, and Julie Wright. They become increasingly more important to me every year, both in writing and in life. Thanks, gals, for “getting” me.

Thank you to my fabulous writing group: Nancy Campbell Allen (
Isabelle Webb, Vol. 2,
Covenant, 2011), Becki Clayson, Jody Durfee, and Ronda Hinrichsen (
Trapped,
Walnut Springs, 2010) for reviewing the first fifty pages again and again, only to miss the ending every time. I’m blessed to have your friendship and your patience as well; Sadie would not be who she is without you.

Thank you to each of my children for their patience, but also for their enthusiastic support. One day they will know how hard it is for me to choose how to spend my time, but for now they simply know that my writing is important to me and therefore important to them. It is my greatest hope and prayer that the sacrifice is worth it and that my support of their talents and passions equalizes the strangeness I bring into their lives. Someday the words might run out and the ideas may run dry, and I am grateful to know that should that change come to pass, I will always have you.

Thank you to my husband, Lee, who has believed in me every step of the way. He is the answer to so many of my questions, the strength to my many weaknesses, and the soft place I’m always eager to return to. Thank you, Lee, for reminding me every day that I “fit” and for giving me a life where I can spread my wings and see just how far I can fly.

For all of this, a final thank you to my Father in Heaven, for giving me the measure I’m trying to live up to, for helping me find the words when I feel abandoned, for taking the words when I’ve abandoned something else, and for leading me to the understanding that there is a plan for each one of us, and that every gift, every passion, every opportunity we face in life is here to make us better and happier and closer to Him.

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 credits 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.
Blackberry Crumble
is Josi’s thirteenth novel and the fifth 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 a 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 [email protected].

Enjoy this sneak peek of Pumpkin Roll

Coming Fall 2011

Chapter 1

So, what’s the difference between a sociopath and psychopath?” Sadie Hoffmiller asked as she put the last plate in the dishwasher.

Pete Cunningham, Sadie’s boyfriend—though that was such a juvenile term—looked up from where he was replacing a hinge on the flat-fronted cabinet. “One starts with an S and the other starts with a P,” he said before going back to the task at hand—one of the two dozen items from his self-imposed honey-do list. They were in a suburb of Boston, watching Pete’s grandsons while Pete’s son and daughter-in-law, Jared and Heather, spent five days in Texas, where Jared had just accepted a residency following his completion of medical school at Boston University.

“Funny. I meant in a psychological way. How are the disorders different from one another?” She sat down on one of the cheap kitchen chairs that went with the cheap kitchen table; Jared and Heather had been poor college kids for ten years, during which time they’d had three children. The din of little boys playing in the other room was at a moderate level, giving Sadie and Pete a rare chance at adult conversation.

Pete turned the final screw and stepped back to shut the cabinet, which now hung perfectly. “This question wasn’t inspired by my grandchildren, was it?”

As if waiting for an invitation, three redheaded boys, graduating in height from tallest to shortest, ran into the kitchen. Kalan, the oldest, darted behind Pete, while Chance and Fig—a nickname somehow derived from Finnegan—held plastic swords above their heads, trumpeting a war cry in pursuit of their brother. All three boys had taken off their shirts to further emphasize their warrior physiques as only a six-, four-, and three-year-old could.

“Get ’em, Grandpa! Get ’em good,” Kalan yelled.

Sadie smiled as she watched the show; it was her favorite—Grandpa Pete.

After using a series of karate chop actions to fend off the blows, Pete grabbed the plastic blade of one sword and then the other.

“I cut your hand off!” Chance yelled, tugging at his sword.

“Hand!” Fig repeated, pulling on his sword as hard as he could.

Pete lifted both swords until the boys had no choice but to let go. They stared at him with angry pouts.

“Gib it back!” Fig demanded.

Pete hadn’t stopped smiling. “I can’t.”

“Yeth you can.” Fig held out his hand. “Gib it back!”

“It’s almost time for bed.” Pete put the swords on the counter behind him.

All three boys immediately began whining in protest.

“If you get ready by yourselves, we’ll have dessert before story time.”

Sadie lifted her eyebrows, and Kalan yelled, “Dessert!”

“Ice cweam!” Fig yelled.

“Not ice cream,” Pete said, pulling open the refrigerator door. “Aunt Sadie made a Pumpkin Roll.”

“Bread?” Chance asked, crinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue.

“Not bread—cake,” Pete said as he pulled out the platter of rolled cake with cream cheese filling.

“Cake!” all three boys said at once.

“But you’ve got to get ready for bed first,” Pete said, lifting the platter out of their reach and looking to Sadie for help.

She turned to Kalan. “Will you help your brothers put on their pajamas?”

Kalan was only six, but he understood what it meant to be the big brother, so he grabbed each younger boy by one of their arms and began pulling them out of the room.

“Are you sure cake before bed is a good idea?” she said. It was after eight o’clock, and the dessert was supposed to chill for a few hours—it had barely been two.

“What’s the fun of having Grandpa stay over if you can’t have cake right before bed?”

It was hard to argue with such logic.

“I should have asked you first, though, it’s your cake,” Pete said, holding the platter with both hands as though trying to determine what to do with it now. “Sorry.”

It was easy to forgive. Sadie stood up from the table and kissed his cheek. “You’re a fabulous grandfather,” she said, pointing for him to put the platter on the table while she headed for the newly repaired cabinet to retrieve some plates.

“I don’t know about that,” Pete said, setting down the platter and watching her busy about the kitchen. “This may turn out to be the longest five days of my life.”

Sadie laughed and grabbed a knife to slice the roll. “Haven’t you ever played Grandpa full-time?”

“No,” Pete said, moving to the sink to wash his hands. “Pat went a few times when the kids went on vacations or had babies or whatnot, and we had Brooke’s kids for a weekend here and there, but I haven’t been called upon since Pat died.”

Sadie looked up at the casual mention of his late wife, liking that he was becoming more comfortable merging his old life with the new possibilities of their relationship. “Well, then, I’m glad I could be a part of this new experience,” she said. “And rest assured, you’re doing wonderfully—cake before bed notwithstanding.” She grinned at him as she carefully sliced the cake.

“I appreciate the validation,” Pete said with a nod, leaning against the counter as he dried his hands with a dish towel. “Even if I don’t really deserve it.”

Sadie carefully lifted each spiral of cake and cream cheese filling before putting it on a plate. A moment later, Pete’s arms snaked around her middle and his lips pressed against her neck, sending a tingle down and then back up her spine. She turned in his arms, holding the knife out to the side so as not to appear threatening.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he said in a tender voice. “Aunt Sadie is amazing with these kids.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Sadie said. She’d been very uncomfortable with the idea when Pete had first invited her. Staying in the same house didn’t seem right, and her reputation had already suffered some painful blows in recent months. But the more she considered the possibility, the more she wondered why she cared so much what people thought of her. She
was
a woman of high standards, and the people who truly cared about her knew that. A phone call with Heather had assured her that the boys could share one room, which would leave a guest room for Sadie.

It had been nice to have so much uninterrupted time with Pete, and she’d always loved New England in the fall. They had arrived two days early so the boys could get used to them before their parents left for Texas. “It’s been fun getting to know Jared and his family from the inside-out,” she added, looking up at Pete and trying not to get lost in his hazel eyes.

“And they love you,” Pete said. He leaned in for a quick kiss before eyeing the knife still in her hand. “Maybe I should let you get back to work before one of us gets hurt.”

Sadie laughed and turned back to serving.

Pete pulled out a chair. “So, why the interest in psychopaths and sociopaths?”

Sadie shrugged, but easily made the shift in the topic of conversation. “I caught part of a
Law & Order
episode the other day. They seemed to be using the two terms interchangeably in the show.”

“Well,” Pete said, folding his arms over his chest, “they’re both antisocial personality disorders, which means they function 100 percent on what they want.”

“So, that means they have no moral code, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Pete said. “Many of them still live by a moral code, but only because it gets them what they want. Generally, a sociopath is classified as such because they exist on the fringe of society; they don’t fit in very well with normal people. A psychopath, on the other hand, has an uncanny ability to mimic the way normal people act. Neither of them has a conscience—but one group can pretend that they do.”