Mariska stared at the bag. Is it a bomb?
Crystal walked down the driveway to the street.
“Wait, do you want any of this back?” called Mariska.
Crystal nodded without turning around. “I’ll come get the paper tomorrow. You can keep the yeast.”
The yeast?
Mariska watched the girl continue down the street toward her house until she disappeared from view. Leaning down and wincing with trepidation, Mariska flicked open the top of the plastic bag. Inside, were the three jars of yeast starter Alice had asked her to choose from before making the stollen. She recognized the yellow glass lids.
Why would she give these to me?
Mariska collected the bag, went inside and locked the door.
That girl is strange. She’s probably hopped-up on the goofballs.
Clucking her tongue, she sat down at her kitchen table and pulled her reading glasses down from her head. She opened the paper and flattened it on the table before beginning to read.
By the fourth line, she felt her eyes begin to tear. Her hand raised to her mouth.
She finished and scanned back to the top to read twice more before staring at the wall, allowing the message to absorb. Her phone chimed a text alert.
Fumbling in the pocket of her house dress, she located her ancient flip phone.
The message was from Charlotte: U up?
Mariska called her.
Charlotte skipped ‘hello.’ “I know it’s late but I think I have some idea what happed to Alice.”
Mariska took a deep breath. “I’m glad you texted.”
“Why? Are you okay? You sound funny.”
“I’m fine, but I have something here you need to see.”
“Now? You’re scaring me.”
“It’s nothing bad. It’s about Alice. Crystal just stopped by.”
“She did? What did she say?”
“Just come over.”
Charlotte knocked on the door a moment later.
Chapter Thirty
“I was halfway across the street by the time you hung up,” said Charlotte, entering. “You scared me.”
Mariska led her to her kitchen table and pointed at a pink piece of paper lying there. Covered with creases, it appeared to have been crumpled into a ball and then flattened.
“Crystal left that with me,” said Mariska.
Charlotte realized the color of the paper looked familiar. “That’s the paper I saw in Crystal’s hand the night we were in her house. I think that’s what she was reading when she cried herself to sleep.”
Mariska nodded. “I’m sure it is. Read it.”
Charlotte sat down and read the letter. Written in a tight, wobbly cursive, the message covered both sides of the paper.
Dear Crystal,
My beautiful girl. I know we haven’t always gotten along. I want you to know I don’t hold that against you. What happened to you and your family wasn’t your fault. I want you to know all I ever wanted to do is take care of you. I love you more than anything in the world.
I left this letter where only you would find it. I thought the box you thought I didn’t know about would be the perfect place.
Now that I’m gone, there are things you need to know.
First, don’t show this letter to anyone except one person—my bread elf. I don’t know who it was, because I put this note in your box every year. I take it back the next morning after I eat a piece of stollen. You will know who the elf was. I always make sure to tell you even though I know you don’t care. It’s important though, because I only ever pick people I know will protect you.
Each year I let the bread elf pick from three starter yeasts. One of them is full of almond flour. I don’t watch which they pick. If I eat their stollen the next morning and my nut allergy doesn’t kill me, I know they didn’t pick that one.
I can’t take the pain of my illness anymore, so I give myself this one chance each year. This is why I never let you help me with the stollen. It has to look like an accident. My insurance won’t pay if they think it was suicide and I want you to have that money.
Tell the bread elf it isn’t her fault. You have to make them understand that this was my choice. They’ve done me a favor.
Please take care of yourself. You’re my precious little girl and you always will be. You have your whole life ahead of you. I hope my insurance payout will help you start your new life. Don’t throw this chance away.
All my love forever,
Grandma
PS: Dump Mark. He’s a terrible person.
Charlotte set down the letter. “Alice killed herself by random draw.”
“I picked the wrong one,” said Mariska, her eyes welling with tears.
Charlotte wrapped her arms around her. “No—you picked the right one. This is what she wanted.”
“Why didn’t she just ask me?”
“Would you have fed her nuts if she asked you to?”
Mariska sniffed. “No.”
“See?”
Mariska pulled a chair out from the dining room table and sat.
“On the phone you said you figured something out. Was this it?”
Charlotte nodded. “Once I thought the letter was left by Alice, it hit me who leaves notes.”
“Suicides.”
“Exactly. Then I started thinking about how her grandmother forbade her to help with the stollen. It occurred to me maybe she didn’t want the girl involved because she knew what could happen. She didn’t want her to feel responsible.”
Mariska scowled. “But it was okay for me to feel responsible?”
“You’re an adult. You’re a friend and not a granddaughter. You can logically understand what happened without everything clouded by youth or guilt over how you may have treated her.”
“I suppose. I don’t feel very logical right
