Turkey, Pies and Alibis (Sweetfern Harbor Mystery Book 5)

by Wendy Meadows

  “Dad, I want you to meet Detective Mac Rivers, the man I will soon be marrying. This is Detective Bryce Jones who works with him at the police station, who is also dating Mac’s daughter Jenny. We are all good friends and I am glad you’re getting to meet Bryce, too.” She strove to keep her voice steady and didn’t look at Bryce and Mac.

  Tim Sheffield did not reciprocate when Mac extended his hand to him. Brenda cringed at her father’s ill manners.

  “I hope you had a good trip to Sweetfern Harbor,” Mac said. When he flashed his smile, anyone else would have been swept up, but not Tim Sheffield.

  “It was satisfactory. So, you’re a cop?”

  “He holds the rank of Detective,” Bryce corrected him. “And a fine one at that.” He locked eyes with Tim briefly. Tim looked back at his daughter’s fiancé. “Mac has lived here all of his life and is well respected in the town and surrounding area.” Mac sent him a look to hold back on the compliments. Tim didn’t say a word in reply to Bryce’s words.

  “I’ll get coffee and whatever everyone wants to drink,” Phyllis said to break the tension.

  Brenda gave her a grateful smile. Her housekeeper knew the preferences of Mac, Bryce and herself. “Would you like coffee, Dad, or something cold to drink?”

  “Coffee is fine,” he said.

  They moved into the sitting room and sat down. A split second of awkwardness passed until Mac spoke. “Brenda told me you drove a truck for a living. I’ve often admired truckers, who have to be on the road for long periods of time.”

  “I retired from the trucking business several years ago and never regretted it.” Tim shuffled in his seat until comfortable. “Looking back, I should have opted for a better career, but I didn’t have opportunities like young people today have. My parents couldn’t afford to send me to college and I couldn’t wait to get away from home, so I chose trucking.”

  Brenda gaped. She had never heard her father speak his feelings like this. Never did she imagine he was bitter about his lack of higher education.

  “You made a good living for Mom and me, Dad. We were always proud of you.” Brenda hoped to touch on something deep within her father so he would recall the pleasant home he helped create.

  “It was a good living, Brenda, but not what your mother deserved.” Tim looked at Mac pointedly. “Why would you go to a police academy instead of a university? You seem like a smart enough man. You narrowed your options when you didn’t have to.”

  “I decided to become a police officer because that was the field I was drawn to. I know it doesn’t pay top dollar, Mr. Sheffield, but I make a good living. If you are wondering how I’ll support your daughter, I own my own home, debt-free, have raised my daughter Jenny alone since her mother died ten years ago and do very well for myself. I’m not a millionaire but I live comfortably when it comes to finances.”

  Bryce crossed his ankle over one knee and then put his foot back down. His discomfort stemmed from two people in their forties having to explain their actions to the grown woman’s father. He finally cleared his throat. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with Brenda and Mac getting ready to live the rest of their lives together. They are both adults and surely can make their own decisions.” There was a strained silence.

  Brenda was aware of how often Bryce failed to hold back judgments. He was outspoken and never afraid to speak up when he felt his opinion was necessary. She glanced at her father. It appeared he had no words in reply to the young detective, or not yet.

  Phyllis hesitated at the doorway with the tray of drinks and small cakes on a china plate. Inwardly, she admired Bryce for speaking up. Perhaps this was what it took for Brenda’s stubborn father to see how happy she and Mac were. It seemed like everyone in the room held their breath, waiting for his reply.

  Tim finally stood up and then stalked from the room without a word. Bryce spoke. “I’m sorry, Brenda, I know I was out of line, once again.”

  She smiled at him briefly, waving away his apology. “But you are right, Bryce. I am an adult and I don’t need his permission. But I plan to have a long talk with my father. This is a man I have not seen or known before. He is pretty much a stranger at this point. I apologize for his bad manners.” How many more times would she have to apologize for her father’s behavior?

  They drank their tea and soft drinks and then Mac said quietly to her, “Brenda, perhaps you should have that talk with your father now. There are clear signs that something more than our upcoming marriage is bothering him.” Brenda nodded in agreement. She could not let it go on one second more.

  When they walked out into the foyer, Tim stood gazing through the glass panes of the entry door.

  “Mac and Brenda, I have a large envelope that just arrived from your travel agency,” Allie said from behind the front desk. “It looks like your honeymoon trip to Italy is sealed and ready.”

  Tim started to turn around and then changed his mind. Instead, he opened the door and walked outside. Mac took the large envelope from Allie and then nodded toward Brenda to follow her father. Brenda was determined not to let the moment pass without getting to the bottom of the matter.

  Chapter Five

  Continuing Conflicts

  Brenda caught up with her father, who strode across the lawn, ignoring the winds of November that scattered leaves all around them. “We have to get things out in the air,” she said, crossing her arms for warmth. “Bryce was right when he spoke up and we both know that. Why did you come here, Dad?”

  He stopped and gazed out at the restless, gray sea before replying. “I came because I was tired of getting your letters begging me to come. And I wanted to see what it was that drew you here in the first place. You had a good life in Michigan, you were an assistant to that private investigator, even though I always knew you chose that work until something better came along. I just couldn’t believe you would choose…this.” He gestured at the broad lawn and the Queen Anne mansion, seemingly disgusted by it. Brenda was flabbergasted.

  “I loved my job in Michigan. I once hoped to become a private investigator myself one day, but the man I worked for seemed to conveniently forget that I was the one doing some of the most important work for him, sometimes. I would make key breakthroughs on his cases and he would present them to clients as his work – and he’d call me his secretary, not his assistant. When I learned the inn was left to me, I decided I needed a change in scenery at the very least. I thought that if it wasn’t for me, at least I could spend a year here and get it ready for sale. But Dad, I surprised myself. Once I got here and met everyone, I knew this was what I was meant to do.”

  Tim was unmoved. He shrugged. “I don’t understand it, Brenda. We gave you a good education and it seems you threw it all away on this stupid dream of your uncle’s.”

  Brenda realized she had failed to convince her father and decided to change the subject. Her heart ached over it. Perhaps it was simply best to let him see more of Sweetfern Harbor. “Mac thought you may like to go down to Wally’s workshop this evening where everyone is working on their floats. We’re putting ideas together and plan to start either tonight or tomorrow on it.”

  “I’ll take a look,” he said begrudgingly, staring out at the ocean again. “But don’t expect me to make as much of it as you seem to be doing.”

  Brenda ignored his remark. “When Mac comes back this evening, we can walk downtown together. A lot of tourists are in town to celebrate Thanksgiving. I hope you plan to stay through the holiday.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She tried again. “Do you want to take a walk now and visit some of the shops along Main Street?”

  “I just want to take a walk down to the beach right now. Alone, if you don’t mind, Brenda. I’m sure you have your work to do. Maybe I’ll meet you and Mac later.”

  As he set off towards the stone steps that led down toward the beach, Brenda turned resolutely back towards Sheffield House and tried to take a calming breath as she walked. When she came back in
side, Phyllis hurried to her. “How did it go?”

  “I may be melting something in him, but I’m not getting my hopes up yet. If he agrees to stay through Thanksgiving, I know he will see things clearly that he blocks out right now.” She laughed. “Did you hear Bryce scold my father in the sitting room before?”

  “Just like him to do that,” Phyllis said, shaking her head. “I hope he didn’t go too far.”

  “I think he gave my father something to think about. After all, he’s right. Mac and I aren’t teenagers asking permission to marry.”

  Mac called Brenda later and she told him her father had reluctantly agreed to visit Wally’s with them to view the floats in progress.

  “William told me about an artist who is staying at his house through the holidays,” Mac said. “He’s offered to construct a small version of the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. I thought if you agree, we could put it at the end of the float. Maybe you can come up with something original that will be in full view of the crowd that depicts something about your inn.”

  Brenda loved the idea and right away she decided to somehow recreate the dining room. “What do you think about a large turkey on a platter in the middle of the table? We could have Thanksgiving décor on the rest of the float. I think I could even convince Phyllis and William to sit at the table as if eating the big dinner. Get your whittling skills ready.”

  “Now you’re thinking, Brenda. I think that will work. I’ll mention this to the artist. I believe his name is Peter. He’s getting excited about helping out, apparently. To be honest, William hinted that Peter has already started carving the bed and breakfast.”

  “That’s a huge relief, since I can come up with ideas, but I’m not someone who knows how to make them into a reality.”

  “I’m feeling a lot better about this plan now,” Mac said. “Peter will meet us down there tonight. I’ll pick up materials to build the rest of the float. Do you want me to come by and pick you and your dad up, or will you meet us down at the shop?”

  “It may save time if we just meet you down there,” Brenda said. Privately, she wasn’t sure she could stand the silence in Mac’s truck if the three of them had to drive together. “Anyway, there’s a lot of work to do on it, this way you can get started right away and not worry about us.”

  That evening, Brenda and Tim walked down to Wally’s. Along the way, several people greeted Brenda and she introduced her father to them, though he continued his stiff manner. She tried to ignore him and simply enjoy the crisp autumn air and the cozy sight of the lights glowing through the windows of the Main Street shops.

  When they arrived at the workshop, whiffs of paint and newly sawn wood greeted them. Mac waved them over to the corner where he and another man were securing the replica of the inn onto the back of the platform. Brenda realized the other man must be the artist, Peter. Brenda walked up to inspect it closely and marveled as she saw how every detail of the front of her bed and breakfast was depicted. She looked at the outside walls and they matched the real structure perfectly, down to the carved wooden beams on the porch and the pretty curlicue trim that decorated the roofline. Peter had left the back of the building open, so it would lead into the dining room area on the main platform of the float. Even the foyer was exactly the same when one looked into the small version of the bed and breakfast’s front door.

  “It’s perfect,” Brenda said. She looked at her father for his reaction.

  “It does look like the real thing,” he said gruffly. He stood aside while his daughter and Mac discussed the rest of the plans with the man called Peter. Then he looked around. The workroom was huge, and several floats were in the midst of construction. He shook his head, seeming to take issue with the frivolity of the activity and decorations, but Brenda did not respond to his glare of disapproval, and instead focused on the work at hand.

  Finally, Brenda and Mac stood back and looked at their creation. Mac nodded proudly as he inspected the strength of the platform and confirmed it was sturdy enough to support the float’s weight. Tim seemed surprised to see how much progress they made in the short time they were there.

  “Let’s go down to Morning Sun Coffee and get something to drink,” Mac said. He asked Peter to join them. He declined and told them he would be back to put the finishing touches on the bed and breakfast the next day. Peter planned to mix paint in the exact shades to match the house’s colors so that the replica would look even more lifelike. They shook hands with the artist, thanked him profusely for his work and said goodnight, then turned to walk to the coffee shop.

  Tim said nothing as he walked alongside his daughter and Mac until they arrived at the coffee shop. Molly waved to them and then came over to their table to be introduced to the man whom her mother, Phyllis, had already clued her in on.

  “This is my housekeeper Phyllis’s daughter, Molly Lindsey,” Brenda said. “She is the owner of this coffee shop.”

  Tim acknowledged the introduction with a nod but said nothing, seeming uncomfortable with the attention. Just then, a new group of customers entered the shop and Molly said she would be happy to take their orders before she got back to work behind the counter. Brenda and Mac ordered lattés while Tim stuck with his usual black coffee. Some minutes later, Molly returned to the table with their coffee drinks, as well as ham and roasted turkey sandwiches.

  “I thought you may be hungry after all the work on your float,” she said with a smile as they thanked her, and wiped her hands on her apron before attending to the next table.

  They dived in to the small platter of sandwiches. “Which kind do you like, Mr. Sheffield?” Mac asked.

  “I’ll take the turkey.” He looked through the window and then back into the shop, which was bustling as usual. “I don’t see what brings all of these people to this small town. It’s getting late and they still come. I don’t get it.” His voice was a little sour and Brenda tensed up.

  “Many are on vacation and like the salt air here. Our Thanksgiving festivities are well known, and some come for that reason only.” Mac’s voice was smooth and respectful.

  Brenda wanted to add that her bed and breakfast was always filled whenever Sweetfern Harbor celebrated anything, but she refrained. She thought if she mentioned that, Tim would take offense and blame her again for not having a room ready for him. It wasn’t fair or logical, but she was sure those would be his thoughts. Instead, she enjoyed her latté and sandwich in silence.

  As they finished their refreshments, Mac looked at his watch. “I have to get back to the police office. I’m on duty tonight and have some cases that need to be looked in to.”

  When they stepped outside, Brenda saw Rachel and Nick Bernard walking toward her on the sidewalk. Her eyes met Rachel’s, but the woman looked away quickly. Nick’s face reverted to the scowl she had seen when they were evicted from their room at the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. The couple brushed past them and both looked at the man standing behind Brenda with appraising eyes, as if they knew he was the reason they were forced from their room. Brenda was simply glad they kept going and did not choose to make a scene on the sidewalk. Mac and Tim did not seem to notice anything had happened at all.

  Mac told Brenda and Tim goodnight and left for his job. It was nine-thirty and stars blanketed the night skies. Brenda recalled how her father used to love to star-gaze with her. She pointed out the brilliant starlit sky above and he grunted in brief acknowledgement, but didn’t enter into the subject at all. Not like when she was a child, when a starry night would have prompted a long discussion of which star was which, or what planet was visible this night. She shivered in the cold wind.

  They walked back to the bed and breakfast in silence. Inside the door, Brenda bid her father goodnight and he answered the same. She watched him ascend the stairs and noticed for the first time that he had a slight stoop in his shoulders. He was indeed getting old. She made a quick decision and followed him up the stairs.

  “I know it’s getting late, but I wonder if we
can talk a little more.”

  He stopped on the landing and turned to look at her. “It’s been a long day, Brenda.”

  “I know, but just a few minutes, Dad.” She was determined.

  When they got to his room he reluctantly ushered her inside. “I wondered what your opinion of our float is,” Brenda said. “I wanted to impress you, we’ve worked so hard on it. Did you like it?”

  He rolled his eyes, shrugged in exasperation and said, “What do you want me to say?”

  Brenda was stunned. “I have bent over backward for you. Do you realize I had to evict guests to accommodate you here? You arrived without any warning, never answering my many invitations, and demanded to stay here. You persist in your rudeness toward all my friends. We have all done everything in our power to make you feel welcome, but you appear aloof and show disdain for my staff and entire life.”

  “Brenda, I’m making the best of a bad situation. You know what I wanted for you – something better than this. If you had taken my advice and moved to a city like New York after college, you would have had better opportunities. By now you would have your own career, you would be married to a stock broker or a high-powered lawyer. I would have beautiful grandchildren and I would be proud of how things turned out for you. As it is, you chose a dead-end place and a dead-end job and now you’re going to marry a dead-end cop.”

  Brenda could find no words. She felt a lump rising in her throat and fought to suppress bitter tears of humiliation. Finally, she said, “If you are so disappointed with me, why did you even come here?”

  “I’m wondering that myself, Brenda. I hoped that maybe my presence would help snap you back to reality. Instead, you are living in la-la land, engaged to a bumbling detective who has his own loudmouth sidekick…”

  That was enough for Brenda. “You have no right to criticize good men like Mac and Bryce. Why are you bent on destroying my happiness?” She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, determined that he wouldn’t get the best of her. “If you have such a strong distaste for Sweetfern Harbor, my friends and my lifestyle, you can leave. Don’t come to Thanksgiving dinner with us. Don’t bother coming to our wedding, either.” She stood trembling and waited to see if he would reply.