Key Lime Pie

by Josi S. Kilpack

  As soon as the plane came to a stop, passengers began popping open luggage compartments and fighting to be the first ones off. Sadie didn’t even stand, content to let the plane clear out and therefore avoid the chaos. She was in no hurry.

  Finally, when the plane was nearly empty, she stood and threw her purse over her arm, glad she’d checked her bag instead of carrying it on with her. She walked through the airport in a daze, not smiling at the people she passed, not browsing the magazines or books like she usually did. The only stop she made was to buy a ridiculously expensive multicolored silk scarf she immediately looped around her neck so that she didn’t feel so self-conscious about the bruises. She’d looked for one at the Miami airport, but apparently scarves weren’t in high demand when it was 85 degrees outside.

  By the time she arrived at the baggage carousel, there were only a couple suitcases left. It was easy to spot hers—bright blue with an orange poppy painted on the front pocket. She’d painted the poppy herself a couple years ago after returning from a trip only to find herself with someone else’s suitcase.

  Not wanting to chase the bag, she simply waited for it to make the round and come back to her. When it was a few feet away, she stepped forward. Then she felt a hand on her arm.

  “Let me get that for you.”

  Sadie turned and felt her mouth fall open as Pete smiled at her. Immediately her hands went to her scarf-covered neck, and she wished she’d reapplied her lipstick before getting off the plane. “Pete,” she said in her raspy voice. “Wh—what are you doing here?”

  “Making sure you arrived safely, of course.”

  Sadie blinked at him and felt the tears well up in her eyes. “You came all the way down from Garrison for me?”

  “I took the airport shuttle,” he said with a nod. “I figured after all that’s happened you might not be fit to drive.” He pulled her scarf a few inches away from her neck, making a sympathetic face as he looked at the evidence of what had happened in Florida.

  Sadie moved the scarf back into place, smiling sheepishly as she did so. She hated him seeing her broken, and yet . . . he was here.

  She met his eyes again and felt warmth and longing begin filling her head and chest. She wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, glancing away, embarrassed.

  Pete reached down and lifted her chin so she was looking at him. “Are you okay?” he asked in a tender voice.

  Sadie didn’t nod, she didn’t blink; she only stared at him and realized that whatever she’d thought she felt for Eric was almost silly compared to this moment. Pete had been the same man in every situation she’d seen him in. He was solid, he was trustworthy, and he was here even though he had every reason not to be. Gayle came to mind, and Sadie felt conflicted. She’d given her blessing . . . but Pete had come to Denver. Even after everything that had happened.

  “Gayle said you never got a decent piece of key lime pie,” Pete said, interrupting Sadie’s thoughts by nudging a grocery bag near his feet that seemed to be holding a bakery box of some kind.

  “I guess I’d forgotten about that,” Sadie said. The last two days were a blur.

  “Well, Gayle made one for you and insisted I bring it with me. She thought we might like to have a slice while we . . . talk.”

  Sadie felt her eyes widen and her chest expand with the dangerous emotion of hope. “Gayle knew you were coming to meet me?”

  Pete held her eyes. “Gayle knows.”

  They were simple words, but Sadie thought she heard a deeper meaning in them than Gayle simply knowing he had come to the airport.

  “She’s not really my type, Sadie,” Pete said in a low voice.

  Sadie’s cheeks heated up; he knew she’d given Gayle the green light to spend time with Pete. She didn’t know how to explain herself, especially since she regretted ever having done it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought . . .” She’d thought so many things she didn’t know where to start.

  “So can we talk?” Pete asked. “Over pie.”

  Sadie looked up into his face and the thoughts she’d been having about him exploded into words. The setting was all wrong, and yet that didn’t stop her. It had to be said.

  “Maybe I was afraid of how I felt,” she began, “or maybe I just wasn’t ready to admit it, but either way I didn’t trust you the way I should have and didn’t give us a fair chance. I’m sorry.” For a moment, he just looked at her.

  “So . . . what happened with Eric?” Pete said, and she saw him pull back a little bit. Maybe not physically, but he was guarding his emotions, protecting himself. She knew what he was afraid of. Had Sadie explored a relationship with Eric only to come running back to Pete when she was disappointed? Perhaps in a sense she had, but not like he thought.

  “I saw the big picture,” Sadie said. Eric had seemed mysterious, flattering, and adventurous. Now she realized that though he might be in his late forties, he had a lot of growing up to do. “I wish him only good things, but he’s not the kind of man I want to spend my life with.”

  Pete held her eyes, questions still lingering in his face. “You sound so certain.”

  “What I had with Neil and what you had with Pat was powerful, and maybe we both thought we could never find that again. Maybe we can’t. But we’ve been there, Pete. We have loved that much, and we have been loved that much in return. Who else could understand that the way we can? Who better to make it happen again?” She was still whispering, but he was listening intently.

  Pete watched her carefully for a few seconds. “I’m not willing to settle for anything less than that,” he said.

  She lifted both her hands, ignoring the protest of her left shoulder, and put them on either side of Pete’s face. He was tall, so she rose up on her tiptoes and then waited for him to come down to her. If they were going to try to have a relationship that moved toward a life together, she was done driving in the slow lane.

  “I don’t know when it happened,” Sadie said, feeling his breath on her face as she stared into his eyes. She had to clear her throat before continuing; she was getting raspier by the minute. “And I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but somewhere along the crooked path we’ve taken, I fell in love with you.”

  “Sadie,” he whispered.

  Sadie stared up at him, hoping to tell him with her eyes the things words couldn’t say. Yet she braced herself as the events of the last few days marched through her mind. Eric, Florida, Gayle. He had so many reasons to say no, but she prayed he wouldn’t.

  There were a hundred other things she wanted to say—about seeing firsthand how quickly lives could change, about how much hurt there was in the world, about how certain she was that she could prove herself to him—but she didn’t say any of those things. She watched his eyes and waited. This was up to him now, and she’d have to live with whatever choice he made.

  He watched her carefully, and she held her breath, waiting for his answer and trying to ignore the ache developing in the balls of her feet as she continued to stand on her toes so that their faces were as close to one another as she could possibly make them. She’d about given up when he leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips against hers that had parted slightly in surprise by the time he reached her.

  Any fear that had lingered between them was banished in an instant. Sadie wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him close and forgetting everything—and everyone—else. The creaking of the baggage carousel disappeared, and the people around them were inconsequential.

  As the kiss deepened and warmth spread through her body only one word came to mind.

  Fireworks.

  Key Lime Pie

  4 ounces cream cheese, softened to room temperature

  1 tablespoon grated lime zest

  1⁄2 teaspoon salt

  1 can sweetened condensed milk

  1 egg yolk

  1⁄2 cup fresh lime juice (about 4 limes; if using key limes, use about 1⁄3 cup of juice, add more to taste)

  whippe
d cream (for garnish)

  sliced limes (for garnish)

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

  Using electric beaters, mix cream cheese, zest, and salt until creamy. Add sweetened condensed milk and mix until incorporated. Add egg yolk, mix until combined. Add lime juice and stir until well blended. Mixture will thicken slightly. Pour filling into your choice of prepared crust (pastry, crumb, sugar cookie) and bake until set, about 20 to 30 minutes. Cool to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate 2 hours before serving. Garnish with whipped cream and sliced limes.

  Serves 8.

  Sadie’s Favorite Crumb-Crust

  1 1⁄2 cups animal cracker crumbs (not the frosted kind)

  3 tablespoons brown sugar

  6 tablespoons butter, melted

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Mix ingredients together and press into a 9-inch pie tin. Bake 18 to 20 minutes or until golden brown.

  Acknowledgments

  This book will forever stand as a reminder not to procrastinate my deadlines. Many sacrifices by many people made it possible.

  First and foremost: my husband, Lee. When I told him I had six weeks to write two-thirds of the book, he didn’t blink an eye and simply asked what he could do to help. That help resulted in my being out of the house two to three nights/days a week while he chauffeured kids, made meals, orchestrated household things, and kept up with his work schedule. The kids were equally supportive, looking out for each other when I was gone for full days while Lee was out of town, leaving me alone when I locked myself in the basement, and acting quite pleased to be having frozen pizza for dinner . . . again. Much thanks to Schwan’s and Costco for the part they played in my family’s survival.

  I had asked five friends to edit the manuscript for me, only it wasn’t completed by the time I’d arranged. Every one of them agreed to read it unfinished and help where they could. Every one of them edited it in less than five days; a couple of them did it in less than forty-eight hours, which meant their kids were having frozen pizza too. I would never have been able to finish the story and say what I wanted to say the right way without them: Crystal White (my friend and my sister), Heather Moore, Julie Wright, Annette Lyon, and Melanie Jacobsen. Thank you, ladies! You better let me repay this one!

  Throughout the writing process, Sadie’s Test Kitchen was crankin’ and my friends and chefs continue to be an absolutely vital part of this series, both for helping perfect the recipes I come up with, and for offering up some of their favorites. Danyelle Ferguson (Fruity Pasta Salad), Whit Larsen (Southern BBQ Slow-Cooked Chicken and Super Sausage Gravy), Laree Ipson, Michelle Jeffries, Don Carey, Barbara Dallon, Annie Funk, and our new baker, Megan O’Neill, were absolutely priceless.

  Once all these people finished helping me with the writing, the book moved into the ever-competent hands of the Deseret Book staff. Big thanks to Jana Erickson, product director; Lisa Mangum, editor; Shauna Gibby, designer; Rachael Ward, typographer; and the dozens of other Deseret Book employees who had a hand in taking the story and making it into a book. Once it’s in book form, Roberta Stout and Leigh Dethman do their magic. Thank you, thank you.

  Beyond all these hands, I am most grateful to my Father in Heaven, for bringing these people into my life and for giving me more than I ever dreamed of.

  Enjoy this sneak peek of

  Blackberry Crumble

  Coming Spring 2011

  Chapter 1

  Quiz me,” Sadie said, straightening the row of cherry chocolate chip cookies she’d laid out on the platter. Pete Cunningham, her absolutely-certain boyfriend, was also laying out cookies—blueberry muffin tops to be exact. The Fourth of July had been several weeks ago, but she’d chosen the color scheme of red, white, and blue for the annual Latham Club summer picnic, which made the cookies a perfect fit.

  “Okay,” Pete said in his rich voice, placing a final cookie in his row—you couldn’t really stack or layer blueberry muffin tops, but he was doing a wonderful job of arranging them as attractively as possible. More points in his favor, though he didn’t need extra credit. Their relationship had moved to a new level over the last few months, and Pete had proved himself a hundred times since then. “How many exits?”

  “Three,” Sadie said with confidence; that was an easy one. She popped open a plastic clamshell container of chocolate chip cookies and tried not to be offended. She’d have made more cookies if she’d known the other people on the food committee were bringing store-bought desserts. “Double doors straight ahead, single doors to the close left and far right. The doors behind us don’t count because they lead to the kitchen, which leads to the fenced parking lot.”

  “Good,” Pete said. “But always assume you’re in the six position on a clock and specify exit locations by the hours they represent. That would make the double doors eleven o’clock, since they are slightly right of straight ahead. The single doors would then be at eight and two.”

  “Got it,” Sadie said, a little thrill of discovery rushing through her. People said you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks—and at the age of fifty-six Sadie could certainly be considered a mature student—but she was proving the cliché wrong under Pete’s excellent tutelage. “What else?”

  “How many chairs are along the walls?” Pete asked. “That will give you an idea of how many people are expected to be here.”

  “About seventy,” Sadie said, glancing quickly at the left wall and estimating that there were twenty-something chairs lined up. Two other walls had what looked like equal numbers of chairs, and the fourth wall had the tables for the food. However, since she’d helped plan the event, she already knew how many people were expected. Originally, the annual picnic-style dinner was supposed to be held outside, but Garrison, Colorado, was in the grip of a hot spell so the event had been moved to the city hall—a former elementary school with a nice-sized gymnasium and overzealous air conditioning system. It was 5:30 in the evening, ninety degrees outside, and yet Sadie had goose bumps since it was a chilly sixty-five degrees inside.

  “And where are your keys?”

  Sadie’s head snapped to the side, and she looked at Pete in surprise. “My keys?” she asked, confused. In the weeks since she’d started asking him to quiz her about her surroundings—honing her skills of observation—he’d never asked about anything other than the place they were at or the people they were with.

  Pete glanced at her as he straightened the row of M&M’s cookies he’d been putting out and then wiped the crumbs off on his apron. Sadie thought he looked very cute in the apron. “If you had to leave in a hurry, you’d need your keys. Where are they?”

  “Um, in my purse.”

  “And where is your purse?” Pete asked, turning to face her and crossing his arms over his chest. His silver hair caught the light streaming in through the high windows, but Sadie was in no mind to appreciate it the way she normally would.

  “In the kitchen,” she said, defeated. “With the other half a dozen people helping with the food.”

  “Not to mention anyone who can come in through the back door, which is unlocked to make it easier for helpers to come in and out.” He gave her an understanding smile, but didn’t stop there. “I counted three other purses on the counter next to yours, each one of them likely holding wallets and keys. With no one specifically assigned to stay in the kitchen at all times—not that that’s foolproof either—there’s no one to keep an eye on those purses. They’re a prime target for theft, especially since the gate is open, and Goose Park, a common hangout for transients and drug users, is right across the street.”

  Sadie’s shoulders fell. “It’s not fair,” she said, suddenly petulant. “I don’t have any pockets. Even if I wanted to keep my keys with me, I can’t.”

  “Don’t you have a code on the door of your car? You can leave your purse in the trunk of your car where it’s safer.”

  “That’s gotten me in trouble before. I need to keep my cell phone close by.”

  “So keep your phone on your
person.”

  “Pockets,” Sadie reminded him, lifting the sides of her skirt to demonstrate how pocketless she was.

  Pete shrugged and smiled at her. “Then wear clothing with pockets when you know you’ll be unable to keep your purse with you.”

  Sadie narrowed her eyes at him. “Easy for you to say,” she said, half serious and half playful. “You’re a man. Everything you buy comes with pockets.”

  Pete grinned back at her in a superior way. “I believe, however, that men’s clothing doesn’t have a corner on the market.”

  “But some styles don’t offer a pocket option,” Sadie continued, reflecting on the women’s clothing industry as a whole. Because of the patriotic theme that had helped her choose the types of cookies to bring, she was wearing what she called her Betsy Ross dress—a navy blue, cotton sundress sprinkled with white polka dots. Upon closer inspection, however, the dots revealed themselves as stars. The bodice fit well, with a wide, navy blue belt that set off her waist, even if it did make her hips look a little more prominent. Pockets on a dress like this would pad her hips even more and keep the A-line skirt from falling correctly.

  “Then don’t buy those styles,” Pete said. He took a step closer to her, and Sadie felt the now-familiar zing as the protons between them started dancing. She loved the zing, something she hadn’t felt between them for too long. Now, however, was not the moment for protons.

  “O-okay,” Sadie said, finding it hard to stay focused as Pete moved even closer. His hand brushed her arm as he tucked her hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her jaw and neck. Her breath shuddered slightly at his touch even as she felt herself leaning into him. They were alone for the moment, creating the perfect moment for him to steal a kiss . . . or three. The rest of the food committee could be heard through the door behind them; they were all in the kitchen. The scent of Pete’s cologne mingled with the smell of cookies—was there a more perfect combination than baked goods and Peter Cunningham?