“It’s really not necessary, but okay, here’s my card.” Penelope handed her one of her business cards with her email and cell phone number. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Before they could mention paying her back again, Penelope hurried away, sliding out through the automatic doors and back into the overcrowded parking lot.
Chapter 13
The morning of Thanksgiving, Penelope woke up early, the excitement for the holiday not allowing her to sleep one more minute past five. The night before she and Arlena and Sam had ordered takeout from their favorite Peruvian chicken place and had turned in early. Penelope because she knew she had a big dinner party to put on the next day, and Arlena and Sam because they were making up for a lot of lost time.
Penelope pulled the turkey from its brining liquid in the refrigerator and patted it dry, then buttered the whole bird and stuffed fresh herbs under the skin. She had the big guy in the oven by six, and her mouth began to water thinking about the roast turkey smell that would be permeating the air in just a matter of hours.
Next she set about baking her pies. Although she had graduated culinary school as a savory chef, Penelope still loved to bake, especially during the holidays and on special occasions. It was a different skill and mindset all together, and she’d studied alongside pastry chefs who she couldn’t match when it came to gravity defying works of spun sugar art, but she could still cook a mean pie and please a crowd.
When her pumpkin and apple pies were in the oven, Penelope pulled out her prep list from the kitchen drawer and began making notes, crossing off items. Next up were the sides, so she sorted through the fridge and pulled out all of her veggies and pantry items and set to work.
* * *
“Hey, there she is!” Max Madison stepped through the back door. He was ladened with a shopping bag decorated with pictures of wine bottles in one hand and a large pastry box in the other.
“Hi, Max,” Penelope said. She had just come back downstairs after taking a shower and drying her long blonde hair, which she had up in a ponytail. She’d pulled on jeans and a black V-neck sweater for their casual Thanksgiving Day dinner. The kitchen was humming along nicely, and everything was on target to be on time and perfect. “Ooh, Ferrara pastry!”
“Yeah, it’s Dad’s favorite,” Max said. “Are they here yet?”
“Nope,” Penelope said, glancing at the clock over the double oven. “I expect them any minute.”
“Oh, sorry, hey, this is Ashley,” Max said as the back door opened. “Ashley, this is Penelope.”
Penelope wondered what Max’s new girlfriend would look like. He normally preferred tall, dark-haired girls, but then again, she’d seen him date a lot of shorter blondes and redheads too.
“Hi,” Penelope said. A young man stepped through the door and clapped Max on the shoulder. “You forgot these,” he said, holding out a bag from Ferrara’s, dinner rolls, from what they smelled like.
“Thanks, I’ll take those,” Penelope said, reaching for the bag.
“Thanks for including me,” Ashley said, handing her the rolls. “Max goes on and on about your cooking.”
Penelope blushed. “Oh, that’s sweet of you. I was expecting…”
“Us to be earlier?” Max asked. “We had to hit the bakery. You know how it goes. Then traffic over the bridge from the city. There’s a big parade today, maybe you heard about it?”
“Yeah,” Penelope said with a laugh. “Actually, I was going to put it on in the library for the kids while I ice down some drinks.”
“We’re here to help,” Ashley said. “Put me to work.”
“Okay, well, there’s some beer outside on the patio,” Penelope said, nodding. “You can get it in the coolers for me and then grab the ice bags from the freezer in the garage.”
“Done,” Ashley said with a smile. His teeth were bright white next to his winter-tanned skin, and his blond good looks belonged in a fashion spread in a magazine. He propped two fingers at his brow and gave her a mock salute, then stepped toward the door. “I’m on the Red Carpet Catering crew today,” he said before stepping outside.
Max watched him go and chuckled. “Where’s Arlena?”
“They’re getting dressed,” Penelope said, eyeing the pastry boxes on the counter. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, Ash,” Max said. “I met him in that improv class I just took. He’s auditioning, living in the city near me, just got called up for his first film. We’ve been hanging out. He’s from out of town so I asked him over for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, cool,” Penelope said. “I was expecting…”
“A lady friend like every year?” Max asked. He walked to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. “I’m taking a break from dating.”
“Really?” Penelope asked, following him. She nudged him aside and pulled out a few blocks of cheese, some pâté, cured meats, and caviar she had placed on a platter. “That doesn’t sound like the Max I know.”
“It’s not forever,” Max said. “The holidays are a lot of pressure. And it’s a weird time to start up a relationship. That’s best for the new year. I’m tired of having ex-girlfriends in family photos taken at Christmas, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Penelope said.
Max rubbed his hands together as he eyed the platter. “Charcuterie? Let me do this for you,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Penelope asked.
“Of course,” Max said. “If I know you, and I think I do, you’ve been up since dawn cooking for all of us. Let me do this easy bit.”
“Okay, no excessive snacking,” Penelope said, placing two French loaves on the kitchen island. “You can have some cheese but no dipping into the caviar until all the guests have arrived and had a chance at it. Company rule.”
“I like it when you boss me around,” Max said with a wriggle of his dark eyebrows.
“Stop,” Penelope said.
The back door opened again and Randall Madison appeared in the kitchen.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” he bellowed.
“Daddy!” Arlena said, appearing from the hallway. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a bright red sweater, which set off her shiny black hair and olive skin perfectly.
Randall crushed his daughter in a hug, lifting her slightly off the ground like a big, leather-jacket wearing bear.
“Rand, can you take these?” Sybil Wilde stepped through the door, holding out two bottles of champagne.
“Of course, dear,” Randall said, taking them from her and setting them on the counter. Once she was inside he helped her with her coat. “Where are the kids?”
“They’re getting a soda from the guy outside,” Sybil said, shaking out her hands. A smile spread across her face when she saw Arlena.
“Soda?” Penelope asked. When she had been catering the movie and was responsible for feeding the children, she knew soft drinks were on the definitely not list.
“Hello, Penelope,” Sybil said with a laugh. She waved her manicured hand in the air breezily. “It’s the holidays. Hello, my dear,” Sybil said, grasping Arlena’s hands and air kissing her on both cheeks.
“Hello, Sybil,” Arlena said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
The door clattered open and Jackson and Dakota burst inside, holding their sodas in their hands. They wore matching sweaters, both brown with orange turkeys knitted on the front.
“Hey guys,” Penelope said, stepping over to the kids. “You’ve grown a foot each since I’ve seen you.”
“Not really a foot,” Dakota said in a serious tone. “Some inches maybe.”
“Don’t correct Miss Penelope, sweetie,” Sybil said.
Penelope winked at Sybil and knelt down to give them both a hug at the same time. “I’m so glad we’re having Thanksgiving together,” she whispered in their ears.
Jackson pulled away and focused on the bottle
in his hand.
The door opened once more and Detective Joseph Baglioni, Penelope’s boyfriend, stepped inside. Penelope looked up from her crouching position on the floor and smiled.
“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Joey said.
Although the kitchen was spacious, it was getting crowded.
“Why don’t you all go to the library and watch the parade, and we’ll have cocktails and appetizers in a little bit,” Penelope said. The crowd slowly filed out of the room and headed for the back of the house where the large TV sat over the white marble fireplace. The whole room was done in white: white rugs, white sofas, white tables. She hoped no one had an accident and spilled caviar on Arlena’s pristine furniture. But seeing how happy she was at that moment, Penelope guessed she wouldn’t care.
When they’d all left except Max, who was busy assembling the meat and cheese board, Penelope grabbed Joey’s hand and led him to the front foyer, out of sight of the kitchen.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Penelope whispered.
Joey looped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug. She breathed in the familiar scent of sandalwood.
“You look beautiful, and that turkey smells great,” Joey said. He bent down and kissed her, which caused her stomach to do a little flip. “What did I do to deserve you?” he murmured in her ear.
Penelope laughed and hugged him tighter. “I don’t know, but keep doing it.”
Dakota skipped into the foyer and tugged on Joey’s sleeve. He reluctantly pulled away from Penelope and looked down at the little girl.
“Are you a police officer?” Dakota asked.
Joey bent down and put his hands on his knees. “I sure am. I’m a detective right here in New Jersey.”
“We live in New Jersey too,” Dakota said shyly. “Can I see your badge?”
“Dakota!” Sybil called from the other room.
Joey pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, revealing his gold shield. He winked at Dakota, who squealed then tore off back to the library.
Joey stood back up and his expression turned serious. “How are you doing, really?”
“Oh,” Penelope said. “I’ve been trying not to think about…everything that happened at the theater. I know that sounds selfish, but Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.”
“I know,” Joey said. “It’s not selfish. We all want to be festive regardless of what is happening in the world around us. That’s normal.”
“Or otherwise it would be too depressing,” Penelope said. She crossed her arms tightly and shifted her weight. “But it’s hard to think about her family ever enjoying the holiday again. They will always be reminded of her dying.”
“Hey,” Joey said. “Enough. I’m sorry I brought it up. I just wanted you to know, I called a friend of mine who works out of Manhattan North to see if there were updates.”
“And were there any?” Penelope asked hesitantly.
“Yeah. Elspeth Connor was stabbed, but cause of death was strangulation. There were signs of sexual activity, too, but they’re not sure if it was consensual or not.”
Penelope put a hand over her mouth and stared at him. A bitter taste covered her tongue and she closed her eyes for a beat. “But it’s possible she was sexually assaulted on top of everything else?”
“Or she was intimate with someone before she was attacked. Either one is possible.”
“Her roommate is pretty adamant she wasn’t seeing anyone,” Penelope said. “I really hope she wasn’t…” Penelope trailed off, not wanting to think about everything the poor girl had been through. “Do they have any idea who might have done this?”
“No suspects yet,” Joey said. “But I’m going to keep an ear out, especially with you working around that theater. I want you to promise me that you will be extra careful.”
“I know,” Penelope said. “I’m always careful.”
Joey smiled and shook his head. “You’re not, but I still love you.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Who would think that kind of thing would happen in midtown, in the Theater District of all places in the city? It’s tourist central, where people go to enjoy themselves.”
“It’s New York City, Penny,” Joey said. “Bad things have a way of happening, no matter what neighborhood you’re in.”
Chapter 14
When it was time for dinner, Sam sat at one end of the table and Arlena at the other. Normally Randall was in the seat of honor, but Sam and Arlena had been serious for over two years now. Penelope loved seeing them so happy, even through their extended time apart when they were working on different projects. They were making it work. Penelope held Joey’s hand under the table after they all got settled, and he leaned his head slightly over to touch hers.
Randall and Sybil sat across from them, flanked on either side by one of the kids. And Max and his friend Ashley sat next to Joey, rounding out the table.
“I’d like to wish you all, my family,” Arlena’s eyes landed on Ashley, who smiled widely in return, “old and new,” she continued, “a very happy Thanksgiving. May the bounty of our table fill you with love and happiness.”
Randall picked up his wine glass and said, “Cheers to that!”
“Very nicely put, sis,” Max said, taking a sip of Sauvignon Blanc. “Especially the new friends part.”
Sam stood and picked up the carving knife, then tugged the sleeves of his sweater back. Penelope had offered to carve the turkey in the kitchen after everyone had seen it, but Sam insisted on doing it at the table in front of everyone.
Penelope watched him, holding her breath slightly, as the knife and fork descended onto the bird. She exhaled when the first slice went smoothly and she could see the breast was plump and juicy. Sam’s expression relaxed a bit too.
“Arlena and I are very happy you could all join us today,” Sam said as he cut off another slice. He almost dropped the piece of turkey, but recovered and made it onto the platter. “We’ve been looking forward to having the family together for a while. And we’d like to invite you all,” his eyes flicked to the newcomer next to Max, then he continued, “to a special holiday party we’re hosting.”
“Party?” Max asked.
“We’d like to celebrate with you all,” Arlena said. “Sam thought it would be nice if we had a formal gathering, all of us together.”
“How much turkey can I have?” Jackson asked. Sybil shushed him and smiled at Sam to continue.
“Yes, a Christmas party,” Sam said. He sliced another piece of turkey, then inched over to focus on a leg. He was getting the hang of the carving, Penelope noticed, and sliced into a thigh with more confidence. “A celebration.”
“Sounds good, Sam,” Randall said. “When’s this soiree happening?”
“On the twenty-third,” Sam said. “Two days before Christmas. I promise, you’re not going to want to miss it.”
Sam bent over and looked into the bird’s cavity. “What’s this?” he asked, a look of confusion on his face.
Penelope’s heart picked up a beat as she watched him. Did she forget to remove the gizzards? No, impossible. She’d used them to make the gravy. Her legs tensed and she thought about standing up.
“That’s weird,” Sam said, bending down further.
“What’s in there?” Dakota asked, craning her neck to see.
“Now, how did this get here?” Sam asked.
“What?” several people asked at once.
Sam stood up and held a small box in the air. The distinctive teal blue hue told everyone exactly where it had come from.
“Sam,” Arlena said, her voice quavering, her eyes jumping from his face to the box. “What are you up to?”
Sam smiled widely, set down the carving knife and walked to the other end of the table. Max pulled out his phone and began recording. Randall stared, his mouth s
lightly open, in complete surprise.
Sam got down on one knee, gracefully, as if he’d practiced it many times before. “Arlena Sofia Madison, will you marry me?”
Chapter 15
“Yes!” Arlena cried, then clapped both hands over her mouth. Her eyes grew even wider as she looked at the blue box in Sam’s palm. He opened the it slowly and Arlena’s gaze drifted from his eyes to the large diamond ring inside.
“Oh, Sam, it’s beautiful,” Arlena said. She slipped the ring on her finger and threw her arms around his neck.
Randall began to clap as Sam and Arlena stood and embraced next to her chair. “Congratulations, you two,” he said. He took Sybil’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. She smiled at him in return.
“That was some surprise, Sam,” Joey said appreciatively. He put his arm around Penelope’s shoulders and hugged her close. Dakota giggled and Jackson rolled his eyes, then looked longingly at the turkey.
Arlena finally let go of Sam and he set the box on the table next to her plate. Arlena shot a glance at Penelope, then looked down at her hand, tilting it from side to side to admire the square cut gem.
“It’s so perfect, Sam,” Arlena said.
“So, the party I was talking about before,” Sam said, “is actually our engagement party. Luckily Arlena said yes, so I won’t lose the deposit I put on the place.” A few chuckles went around the table.
“Daddy?” Arlena asked.
Randall stood up from his chair and shook hands with Sam. “I had no idea you were going to do it today, during Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You knew what he was up to?” Arlena asked, taking her seat and eyeing her ring again.
“Sam very kindly called and asked for my blessing. But that was over a month ago,” Randall said. “Well played, young man.”
“You might tell them our news too,” Sybil said, “since we’re all celebrating.”
“News?” Penelope asked.
“Sybil and I are getting married too,” Randall said, nodding. He sat back down and held her hand again. Jackson sighed and crossed his arms at his chest, still staring at the bird in the center of the table.
MURDER WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS Page 7