by Judy M. Kerr
“Few more minutes.” Barb backed closer into MC.
MC pulled the blanket up over them and held tight to her partner. Her mind resumed processing, the details a tsunami in her head.
She’d received a short email from Agent Ferndale on Tuesday. They wanted to re-interview Gavin Thomson but had been unable to locate him. The last anyone had seen him was at some hoopla at Stennard’s private residence on Lake Minnetonka on Saturday night.
Contact had been made with Michael Stennard, who claimed he’d been suffering from some undisclosed illness and hadn’t seen his business partner since late Saturday night.
Ferndale said they’d continue to pursue the Thomson thread. He thought the guy was acting too slick.
MC felt justified in her involvement in finding Arty’s killer because of the tie-in to the fraud.
But today she was ready to let go of work, for a day anyway. She and Barb would prepare their Thanksgiving feast and watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV. Neither of them was a huge football fan, but they’d probably turn on whatever game was televised. She eagerly anticipated a quiet day with her love.
And now was as good a time as any to wake Barb, in a special holiday way. She nuzzled her nose gently in Barb’s exposed ear and placed a soft kiss on her neck. “Wakey. Wakey.”
“I’m definitely awake.” Barb rolled onto her back and pulled MC in for a warm hug. “Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”
By eight, they’d emerged from their cocoon ready to take on the day.
MC switched her work cell phone to ring instead of vibrate and set it on the coffee table in the living room. The joy of being on-call on a holiday.
“I’ll get the paper.” She opened the front door, and a lash of cold slapped her. “Feels like the North Pole.” She hauled the newspaper in from the front stoop and slammed the door on the arctic air. “I swear there are more sales ads than actual newspaper in this edition. This thing must weigh fifty pounds.” She hefted the Minneapolis Star Tribune in both hands and dropped it on the coffee table with a thunk, then slumped onto the couch.
She picked up the remote and found the channel broadcasting the parade.
The south-facing picture window behind the TV framed a sky quickly filling with grayish white clouds. The pallid sun, barely risen, was fading quickly. Shadows hunkered down for a lengthy stay.
Barb came through the dining room carrying two steaming cups of coffee. “That sky is downright apocalyptic.” She handed a cup to MC, leaned in for a kiss and sat next to her on the sofa. “Here’s to an already wonderful morning, despite the impending gloom.”
“No gloom in here. We’ve got nothing but rays of sunshine and rainbows going on.” MC clinked her mug against Barb’s. “Although, I think I may need a dose of pain reliever. That newspaper weighed as much as a ship’s anchor.” She propped her slippered feet on the coffee table.
“Oh, the hyperbole.” Barb rolled her eyes and reached for the paper. “Let’s see what sales I’ll be hitting tomorrow.” She set her mug on a coaster on the side table and dug into the three-inch stack.
“Good God, how many ads can there possibly be?”
“Not nearly enough.” Barb was giddy with delight. “L.L.Bean, Eddie Bauer, Macy’s.”
MC laid a hand over her chest. “Be still my heart.”
“You should be happy instead of making fun. You’ll benefit the most from my forays.”
“True. Too bad I have to work or I could go with you.” MC sipped her coffee and pulled the local news section from under the stack of colored glossies.
“As if. You hate shopping. I don’t understand how anyone can hate shopping.”
“I hate crowds and getting trampled in order to save a couple of bucks.” MC glanced at the TV. “Underdog. I loved Underdog when I was a kid. Did you know the first year this cartoon character appeared in the parade was the same year we were born—1965? The cartoon debuted on TV in 1964 with Minnesota’s own General Mills as the primary sponsor.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Barb rummaged in the drawer of the end table. “Is there a Sharpie in the table next to you?”
MC checked. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Barb uncapped the marker and began circling items in large black swoops.
“You approach shopping like a well-plotted attack.”
“I need to know where I’m going and what I want at each place. The best defense is a good offense, right?” She raised an eyebrow at MC.
“Um, yeah, sure.”
“Think about it like a game plan for football. You always see the coaches on the sidelines holding shiny play cards with X’s and arrows and whatnot. And you spout things about bootlicks and drags.”
MC laughed. “You mean bootlegs and draws?”
“Yes. Those. These pages with circles are my bootlegs and draws. They get me in and out of stores, hopefully unharmed. I don’t hear you complaining when I come home with new clothes for you.”
“You take very good care of me, and I appreciate all you do.”
Barb eyeballed her. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious. You’re the best. I totally don’t deserve you.”
“A bit over the top, but I love you, too.” Barb focused on the ads again.
MC watched her, head bent over the stack of flyers, black marker whisking across pages. Her heart swelled with love. The past nineteen years had been the best of her life, and she counted her blessings every day. Without Barb she’d have a lot less light and love. She’d either have drunk herself into oblivion or immersed herself so deep in her job her social life would’ve been nonexistent.
Now would be the perfect time to surprise Barb by proposing. Saying to her, easy-peasey, let’s get hitched. Let’s have a celebration because I love you to the moon and back.
She set the newspaper aside, having no desire to read about the latest homicide, rape, or political jousting match. The colorful parade of balloons, floats, and marching bands engendered a sense of lighthearted merriment. Life should always feel this good, she thought. Then she remembered her parents and Cindy. The holidays were difficult for her, even with Barb at her side. She missed Bobby and Patty McCall profoundly, even twenty-five years after their deaths. And suddenly, the sparks of a wedding flamed out, settling into a pile of ashes. She choked down the proposal, the unspoken words an immobile lump in her throat.
The hardest piece to accept was they had been ripped from her life without warning. She’d not had a chance to say good-bye.
MC found a smidgen of solace only in knowing they’d died coming back from the cabin on Lake Superior, which they loved so dearly. She mourned their never having lived long enough to retire and fully enjoy their favorite spot. Surprisingly, MC yearned to be at the cabin as frequently as she could, but they were almost never able to go. Only there did she feel as though she captured the spirit of her parents. The fun. The love. The peace.
She and Barb had taken a chunk of their investment money and renovated the cabin. MC’s parents had installed a heating system sufficient enough to allow for the occasional winter weekend in milder weather, but now the place was ready for living year-round, which was MC and Barb’s grand plan when they retired in a few years. They’d even added an additional suite: bedroom, bathroom, and tiny den so Meg and Dara could come stay with them once in a while. Definitely not full-time, though, because as much as MC loved the couple, having Dara on endless loop would be enough to drive her insane.
Regardless, Barb, Dara and Meg, they were MC’s family now. So why couldn’t she make the leap to the big wedding Barb yearned for?
“Penny for your thoughts.” Barb nudged MC’s foot with her toes.
“What?”
“You were lost there for a while. Everything okay?”
“Just memories.”
Barb huddled closer to MC and wrapped her arms around her. “I know you miss them. But you have me and Dara and Meg. We love you very much.” Barb planted a kiss on her cheek. “Now, let’s watch the rest of this silly pa
rade. I’ll need to get started on our meal soon if we’re shooting for dinner at four.”
“Four’s perfect. And we can have dessert back in here and watch It’s a Wonderful Life on Netflix.”
MC hugged Barb.
“Do we have to watch such a depressing movie?”
“I guess not, but—”
“Thanksgiving tradition.”
“A custom started by my parents. I feel like it’s one last vestige of them. Besides, we can watch Christmas Vacation afterward to cleanse our movie palates. You always laugh, even though it’s stupid.” MC smiled. “The perfect Thanksgiving.”
MC gathered their dirty dishes from the breakfast nook. “Can I get you anything?” She rinsed the bowls and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“No, thanks. I’ll get started on the pie. It’s almost noon.” Barb pulled a cookbook from a cupboard shelf above the stove.
“What can I do to help?”
“Go watch TV or read or something.” Barb paged through the cookbook until she found the recipe she needed.
“I could get potatoes ready. Or chop veggies for salad.”
“No. Really. I can handle this. We’d be tripping over each other.” She herded MC back toward the living room. “And I enjoy my cooking therapy.”
“Like you need therapy.” MC squeezed Barb’s hand. “I think I’ll go for a run before I vegetate. With work being so crazy the past couple weeks, I haven’t had time to get out. I need to get back on track. That’s my therapy.”
“Bundle up.”
MC grabbed her work phone from the living room and tapped the weather app. Cloudy and twenty-four degrees. North winds five to ten miles per hour. Definitely brisk.
She went upstairs and changed into running tights, thermal running shirt, and dug her Saucony running shoes from the closet floor. She pulled on her balaclava and a jacket to ward off the wind.
MC went back down to the kitchen and stuck her hands into a pair of gloves. “I should be back in forty-five minutes or so.”
“You’re positively villainous. Hopefully you won’t freak out any of the neighbors.”
“I’m more likely to be stopped by a local patrol than one of our neighbors. I’ve got my work phone on me.” She patted her jacket pocket.
“Enjoy your run.”
MC did a few quick stretches in the driveway before heading down the alley. Her head cleared with each puff of air she exhaled.
She jogged over to Highland Parkway and followed it down to Mississippi River Boulevard. The burn in her quads was a stark reminder she’d gone far too long without exercise. The brown river gurgled on her left.
MC dangled her arms loosely at her sides to relax her form for a few strides before shaking them out and resuming her normal running position. She followed the frosted asphalt path along the river to Summit Avenue and headed east on Summit to Cleveland. Going south on Cleveland. From there she traversed the west side of the St. Catherine University campus to the homestretch back along Pinehurst.
At the mouth of the alley she slowed her pace. Back in her own driveway she bent over, hands planted on her knees, and sucked in crystalline air, clearing her lungs. She checked her phone. The run had taken her forty-seven minutes. Not bad for being off her normal routine.
After a few post-run stretches, she found the back door locked. She knocked, and Barb was there in an instant, disengaging the deadbolt.
Warm pumpkin and spices welcomed her home.
“Smells yummy.” She kicked her shoes off onto the all-weather mat inside the door, pulled the balaclava from her head, and ran her hand over her sweat-flattened hair.
“Pie’s in the oven. How was your run?” Barb leaned over the sink and washed a ceramic mixing bowl. Steam painted patterns on the window above the sink.
“Good. I was off pace, though. And my quads screamed before I was even halfway through the run.” MC stuffed her gloves inside the balaclava. “I need a glass of water and a warm shower.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and stood waiting for Barb to finish rinsing the bowl and utensils.
She filled the glass and leaned back against the counter, drinking water and wiggling her toes to warm them.
“The pie has another forty minutes. I’ll prep the turkey breast and work on the sweet potatoes.”
“I can pitch in after my shower.” MC rinsed her glass and put it in the dishwasher.
“I have it covered. You rest and get warm.”
“Holler if you change your mind.” MC gave Barb a quick peck on her cheek.
Freshly showered, dressed in jeans and a clean flannel shirt, MC sprawled across the couch and surfed the TV channels. Against her better judgment she decided to give football a chance and selected the Chicago Bears and Detroit Lions game.
At halftime, MC punched the remote until she landed on reruns of The Big Bang Theory, one of her favorite shows. The motley group of nerds never failed to make her laugh.
She related to their patched together family. Penny was in the middle of serenading Sheldon with “Soft Kitty” while applying vapor rub to his chest when MC’s cell emitted an annoying old-fashioned ringtone. She reached over the arm of the couch and grabbed her personal cell. “Barb, it’s Dara on FaceTime.”
“Hey, Dara.”
“How you doing, buddy? Happy gobble gobble day and all that happy crap.” Dara panned the phone and Meg appeared on the tiny screen.
“Hi, MC.” Meg waved. “Happy Thanksgiving. Where’s Barb?”
“I’m here!” Barb ran into the room wiping her hands on a towel. “I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen while MC lounges in front of the TV eating bonbons.”
“Some things never change,” Dara said.
“Ease up will ya? I did go for a run earlier. What have you done?” MC asked.
Dara said, “I’ve been working at retaining my sanity, which is a brain drain of epic proportions. We needed a break from my folks, so we snuck into my old room, which, as you can see, is now my mother’s sewing room slash reading hideaway.” Dara shifted the phone to give them a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the ten-by-twelve-foot room. A sewing machine was shoved in one corner and a giant plush recliner, reading lamp, and table sat in the center of the room. Every wall was lined with bookcases crammed full of books and magazines.
“Your mom sure has a lot of books. How’s the family time?” MC asked. “You two don’t appear too worse for wear.”
“Ha ha,” Dara said. “You’re a real card, McCall. Actually, they’ve been pretty okay. My dad’s only referred to Meg as my friend once.”
“I’m slowly winning him over,” Meg said. “Give me another ten years, and I’ll have him calling me his daughter-in-law.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Dara said. “How’re you two? Are you watching the Bears-Lions game? Boring. Chicago can’t stop turning over the damn ball.”
“You got that right,” MC said, “I watched the last couple minutes before halftime. I was less than impressed.”
“She’s so unimpressed she’s now watching The Big Bang Theory.” Barb piloted the phone in MC’s hand so Dara and Meg could see the TV.
“Wow, so butch.” Dara clicked her tongue.
“What? Penny’s hot, for a straight girl,” MC said.
Barb scooched in front of the phone’s camera. “Have you already had dinner?”
“Nah. We’re supposed to eat around four. What about you guys?”
Barb perched on the arm of the couch. “My goal is four. One big meal, then we’ll relax for the rest of the evening.”
A door opened behind Dara and Meg, and some muffled commotion ensued.
“Okay, Mom. We’ll be right there. Say hello to MC and Barb.” Dara shifted her phone and a short stout woman filled the screen dressed in brown slacks and a hideous bright orange sweater with a giant turkey embroidered on the front.
She pushed her face closer to the device and yelled, “Hi! I’m sorry you girls couldn’t join us for dinner. Maybe next year? We lo
ve having Dara’s friends over for the holidays.”
“We appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Hodges, and would’ve come, but I’m on-call for work. But, yes, maybe next year.” MC crossed her fingers behind her back as Mrs. Hodges disappeared from the screen.
Barb smacked her in the arm. “You’re like a ten-year-old,” she whispered.
“Okay kiddos,” Dara said. “I guess we gotta go help Mom. Enjoy your peaceful feast. See you in a couple of days.” Dara and Meg waved and blew kisses.
“Drive safe,” Barb said. “We love you.”
“Ditto what my better half said. Enjoy. See you soon.” MC ended the call.
“Can you believe Dara’s dad still refers to Meg as Dara’s friend?” MC said. “After twenty years you’d think the guy would get a clue.”
“Some people don’t ever change. I think Meg is holding up pretty darn good.” She planted a kiss on the top of MC’s head. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen or we won’t be eating until eight.”
MC reclined into the cushions and watched the remainder of The Big Bang Theory, laughing her butt off. The credits rolled and a side bar showed the cable channel was actually airing a The Big Bang Theory marathon until midnight.
“Beats the stupid Bears game,” MC said aloud. She tucked a pillow under her head and settled in for the long haul.
Four episodes later Barb announced dinner was served.
MC rubbed her eyes. “I think I may have dozed off.” She yawned and peeled herself off the couch.
“Nice ploy to get out of setting the table,” Barb teased.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” MC felt guilty for snoozing while Barb worked so hard preparing their meal.
“Oh, stop it and get yourself to the table. Do you want a glass of wine with dinner?”
“I better not, in case I get a call.” MC shut off the TV.
Barb had covered the dining room table with an autumnal patterned tablecloth—burnt orange, brown, and gold leaves interspersed with scattered acorns. The centerpiece was a giant cornucopia with two ivory candles set on either end.
Two place settings, one on the end and the other at the first chair to the right, waited for them. Barb set out two orange Fiestaware plates to coordinate with the rest of the table decor. One wineglass stood guard over the place at the head of the table.