Lemon Tart by Josi S. Kilpack Read Free Book Online Page B

they had class and work. Not to mention she didn’t know what to say or how
much to tell them. She’d wait just a little while—until she had
more answers.
    When the floors were vacuumed, the counters scrubbed, and the
second batch of applesauce finished, Sadie took a deep breath and looked at the
clock—something she’d determined not to do once Ron had shut
the door behind him.
    It was 11:53. Ron’s hour was up.
    “What do I do now?” she said out loud. Then she took a deep
breath to get extra oxygen to her brain. She needed to think—something
she’d been trying to avoid. In order to better facilitate her concentration,
she went into the living room and sat in her favorite chair—an
armchair she’d given to Neil on their last Father’s Day. Three months later,
when she’d come back from the hospital alone, she’d curled up in that chair and
just smelled him. Later that night, after getting the kids to sleep, she’d gone
back to the chair, crying, sobbing, letting her heart break into a million
pieces. Sometimes she felt like her heart was still in this chair, still
connected to Neil in some weird, metaphysical way. But whatever her romantic
notions, the chair was the furniture version of comfort food. She needed
anything she could get, so she curled into the soft, brown suede-type
material—rubbed smooth on the seat and the arms—closed
her eyes and just thought.
    Ron and Anne—what possible reason would he have
to go see her? Sadie knew the obvious suspicion but the thought made her sick.
Anne was young and beautiful. Ron wasn’t either one, but he had a certain
appeal; Sadie had certainly fallen for him. She shook her head. Surely there
were perfectly reasonable explanations for Ron to be at Anne’s house . . .
late at night . . . without Sadie’s knowledge.
    She’d introduced Anne and Ron a couple weeks after Anne had
moved in, and they’d run into each other at Sadie’s house often enough to be
considered acquaintances. She’d never noticed anything between them. Had she
been so lovesick over Ron that she’d missed something? She shook her head
again. It wasn’t possible. She’d have known. She might be a romantic, but she
wasn’t an idiot.
    Wouldn’t she have known?
    Growling out loud, she lost patience with her pondering, got up
and went to the phone, dialing Ron’s cell-phone number by memory.
She’d given him his hour and now she needed answers before she made herself
crazy. The phone rang four times before his chipper voice asked her to leave a
message. She slammed down the phone and stared out the front window. It would
be foolish to withhold information from the police—that would
only put her at risk of further suspicion. And yet as she grabbed her jacket
from the back of the couch, the heaviness in her heart slowed her hands. Tears
came to her eyes and she took a deep breath, willing herself to do what she
knew had to be done.
    “You’re stronger than this, Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said to
herself, the whisper sounding loud in the silent house. “And you know what the
right thing to do is.”
    With that, she put on her jacket, said a little prayer, and
headed out the front door.

Chapter 7

    When Sadie and Neil bought their corner lot, Old Man
Tilly owned all the land. He’d lived there for years and grown alfalfa until he
reached his seventies, at which time subdivisions made more money than hay.
Spurred by one of his sons, he’d developed the cul-de-sac,
putting his house on a paved road for the very first time. The land around the
cul-de-sac was divided into eight lots and the remaining acreage
was left for future development that never happened. Tilly lost interested in
developing a subdivision once he had sold the second lot to Jack and Carrie,
leaving two empty lots to the west of them, and three empty lots east of his
house as well.
    The lots remained vacant as incentive for his children to move
closer to him. The incentive become an inheritance once Forrest Tilly