Page 52 of Pickled
Shaking my head, I opened the door. He held up the cooler. “It’s food.”
“Food?” I followed Ace into the kitchen. “Is there a note?”
Ace piled the glass casserole dishes on the counter. The ice packs that had kept the meals cold sat melting in the kitchen sink. “A-ha.” There was a ripping sound, and he held up an envelope. “This note taped to the back. Do you think that it’s from the team?” He stuck his finger in to rip it open.
“Give me that.” I snatched the envelope from his hands. “What if it’s, I don’t know, some weirdo who cooks with arsenic? This isn’t rural Michigan. People don’t just drop by with casseroles for their neighbors.”
Ace’s eyes widened. “Ohhhhh.” He poked me in the gut. “I know who it’s from.”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb, Gideon. It’s from your neighbor, the hot one.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s not. Why would she make lasagna and whatever this is.” I took off one of the plastic lids and inspected the casseroles. They looked and smelled amazing.
Ace opened another. “Ooh, this one is apple crisp.” (make them have a discussion about apple crisp earlier in the book) We both inhaled the spicy cinnamon and apple dish.
Piper knew that I loved apple crisp, but why would she leave a care package for someone she didn’t care about?
Ace grabbed a wooden spoon from the container beside the stove and proceeded to dig into the dessert. “I don’t care if it’s laced with laxatives. It smells amazing.” He shoveled a huge bite into his mouth. “It is amazing.” He spoke through a full mouth.
“Get a proper spoon.” I opened a drawer and handed him an appropriate piece of silverware. Although I had to agree, it smelled incredible—and I wanted to eat it. To do that, I needed to confirm that it wasn’t left by a serial killer baker. I opened the letter.
Gideon,
Heat up the casseroles at 350 for thirty minutes. Same with the dessert. Studies show that apple crisp has healing properties? They don’t, but I figure it can’t hurt (winky face). If you want some vanilla ice cream to go with it let me know. I can have some hand delivered. (another winky face). When you’re feeling up for a visitor, there’s something I need to tell you.
P.
I turned over the page, but it was blank. “What the hell is this?”
Ace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why are you angry? This is really good. That was really nice of her, Gideon. I think Piper is a keeper.”
Furrowing my brow, I put the dishes in the fridge and read the note again. “She’s giving very mixed signals. She didn’t even show up at the game last night.”
This time, it was Ace who looked confused. “What are you talking about. She was there.”
Was Ace trying to make me feel like I was losing my mind? I didn’t want to count the number of times I’d looked at the empty seats. It had to be in the hundreds. Piper hadn’t shown. “Um, no, dude. She wasn’t there.”
Ace got a beer from the fridge, cracked it open, and took a swig. He grimaced. “Coors doesn’t really go with apples and cinnamon.” Then he took another sip. “Dude, she was at the game. She also came to the hospital.”
I blinked. “The seats. They were empty the entire game.”
Ace laughed. “Oh, you didn’t hear what happened.”
“Of course I didn’t hear what happened, Acer. I was kind of occupied by, you know, a bunch of doctors making a big deal out of nothing.” Then I remembered that Goldie wasn’t in the seats either. “What… happened?”
Ace returned to the apple crisp with the giant spoon. “Some dudes were being assholes, and Piper’s old lady friend put them in their place.”
Old lady friend?
“They were moved to one of the boxes up top. She was there for the entire game. She saw you score the goals, which was impressive, by the way.” He took a bite from the heaping portion on the spoon, like a little kid. “She sat with Goldie all night. Goldie gives her stamp of approval, by the way. And you know how good Goldie is at judging character.”
I nodded. She had an uncanny ability to know what people were thinking. “Witchy Woman,” the Eagles song, started to play from the back pocket of Ace’s jeans. “Speak of the Devil.” He grinnedand answered the call. While he chatted with his wife, I ran my fingertip over the note. Piper’s wrote in lower case, no capitals.
My mind raced as I wondered what she wanted to talk to me about. My heart thumped with the thought of my cute neighbor showing up in her workout clothes, a tub of vanilla ice cream in her arms, biting her lip as she told me that our deal was stupid.
I’d tell her that I wanted to see her, and only her.
