Death by Chocolate

As a friend/employee she
went way beyond the call of duty. “Go home,” she told her.
    “Really? Mother, may I?”
    “Get. Now. Call me on your
cell phone when you’re outta sight.”
    Savannah was barely out of
the gates and on the highway when her cell phone rang. It was a much relieved
Tammy.
    “Wow, that was a speedy
escape,” Savannah said.
    “I resisted the temptation
to run out of the house screaming,” she replied. “I just walked... really
fast!”
    “I’m so proud. Driving you
nuts, was she?”
    “Good grief! She’s really
got some heavy problems. She was telling me about all these support groups she
belongs to: Victims of This, Survivors of That, Ten Steps to Another Thing.
She’s got more support than Playtex! ”
    “Eh, Cordele’s still
searching.”
    “For what?”
    “She’s not sure. That’s
what makes it particularly challenging.” Savannah turned off the highway and
headed downtown. ‘Tell me something, kiddo.... what exactly does somebody who
only eats ‘healthy’ crap have for dinner?” She listened for a moment. “Yuck.
All right, where do I buy some of that?”
     
     
    About forty-five minutes
later, Savannah walked into her house. She found Cordele curled in her big,
cushy chair, the two cats on the ottoman next to her feet. She was deeply
engrossed in a mystery novel from Savannah’s bookshelves.
    For a moment, Savannah
thought of all the times she had seen her sister hunched over a book. It was her
primary memory of Cordele as a child. Of the nine Reid siblings, Cordele had
been the most avid reader, the best student in school, the quiet, somber one of
a rowdy group.
    Seeing her sister there in
her own favorite chair, the cats warming her feet, the light from the lamp
shining on the chestnut highlights in her hair—the same dark color as her
own—Savannah felt a tug of familial connection and affection. She was glad she
had made the decision to spend the evening with her rather than working on the case
with Dirk.
    She cleared her throat, and
Cordele looked up from her book, startled. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” she
said.
    Savannah smiled at her and
was relieved when it was returned. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
    “No. Have you?”
    “Nope. Come on.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “You’ll see. Bring a
sweater.”
     
     
    The sun was nearly setting
when Savannah pulled the Mustang into the beach parking lot. The turquoise
skies, streaked with clouds of coral, slate gray, and white, provided the
perfect ambiance for a seaside picnic. The palm trees that lined the beach were
black, stately silhouettes against the marbled sky. They dipped and swayed in
the evening breeze, their dry fronds rustling as they danced.
    “Wow, this is cool,”
Cordele said as they got out of the car. “A picnic at the beach! That’s a great
idea!” See, big sisters can occasionally do something right, Savannah thought.
But she said nothing as she reached into the backseat for an old army blanket
she kept there and the bags of food she had purchased at a local restaurant
that catered to the “nutrition-conscious.”
    “What have you got there?”
Cordele asked, trying to peek into the bags.
    “Nothing. Here, you take
the blanket and let’s go before it gets any darker.”
    They settled on a stretch
of sand where they could see the roller skaters on the boardwalk and some kids
playing on a set of swings nearby.
    Cordele spread the blanket,
and they both plopped down on it. They slipped out of their shoes, and Cordele
wriggled her toes into the sand.
    “Let’s see.... what do we
have here?” Savannah pulled out a wrapper and offered it to her sister. “I
believe it’s a whole-wheat pita stuffed with grilled chicken breast, avocado
slices, alfalfa sprouts, tomato, and spinach.” Cordele’s eyes widened. “Really?
You got that special for me?”
    “Well, I got one for
myself, too.” She rummaged around in the bag. “And here’s some yogurt-based
sauce for dipping, if you like. And some bottles of cranberry-apple juice.
Isn’t that one of your favorites?”
    Cordele took the bottle and
blinked rapidly a couple of times as though she had gotten a grain or two of
sand in her eyes. ‘You remembered,” she said.
    “Of course I remember.” She
produced a couple of plastic wineglasses, filled both, and handed one to her
sister. “Because it’s a special occasion,” she said. “Here’s to the Reid
girls.”
    Cordele toasted her, drank,
and then