* * *
At a quarter to three, we packed up Meredith’s car. Aimee and I would drive over in my car with our non-doctored butternut squash, our official contribution to the dinner. Couldn’t show up empty-handed. Meredith and Eva would drive there separately with all the other food.
The plan was simple: Aimee would lure Janet from the kitchen, and I would help Meredith and Eva slip in the back door and substitute our bad dishes for Janet’s good ones. After they finished stowing the stolen food in Meredith’s car, Eva and Meredith would come in the front door, officially arriving. So glad the spunky gene hadn’t skipped a generation.
Feeling joyful as mad scientists, Aimee and I took off. Janet and her husband, Keith, lived just ten minutes away, but they were a long ten minutes. Granted, we didn’t have to travel over any rivers or through any woods, but we did have to enter the ritzy part of town. The girls and I lived in a perfectly nice house that their father had been kind enough to let us keep after he found greener pastures elsewhere—he’d get his another day. But Janet lived in McMansionville, where the houses had nearly an acre of land and mature trees between them. Space enough that the neighbors wouldn’t hear you scream if your stock portfolio took a nose dive, or see if your relatives tried to sneak food in the back door.
Several cars were parked out front when we got there. Meredith drove farther down the block, where her car shouldn’t be spotted, to wait for our signal.
“You ready?” I asked Aimee as we unbuckled our seat belts.
“You bet.” She flashed a bright smile. “My cell phone battery is fully charged. Operation Knock Her Down a Peg is on.”
I patted her knee, then we got out of the car. My nose immediately chilled. A cold front had swept in overnight, and now the orange- and yellow-leafed trees were dancing in the wind, their branches swaying and their leaves popping off and swirling around. I could smell a delicious fire from someone’s chimney nearby. It all felt so cozy, exactly why I’d always loved Thanksgiving.
When we reached Janet’s front door, the inside wooden door was ajar, so we opened the storm door, walked in, and called out hello. We were greeted by the scrumptious smells of butter and onion, but no people. I heard chatter farther inside the house. We hung our coats in the hall closet and wandered toward the noise.
More than a dozen relatives from Janet’s side of the family were hanging out in the living room, sitting close as sardines on the sienna-brown leather couches or sprawled out on the maroon and cream rug. Their eyes were all glued to a football game on the big-screen TV. Aimee and I stood there for nearly a minute, unnoticed, as I missed my own parents and wished they were still here to enjoy family gatherings like this. Finally a commercial came on.
“Look who’s here,” my aunt Sherry said, as if coming out of a trance.
She wore a smart camel-colored sweater that complemented her amber eyes. Her face had a few more wrinkles than the last time I’d seen her, but she carried them well. I’d always been very fond of Janet’s mom and felt a tug of regret about my plan.
Everyone rose to give us hugs and hellos, remarking on Aimee’s recent growth spurt and asking about Eva and Meredith.
“They’ll be along soon,” I said. “Where’s Janet?”
“She’s in the study, talking with somebody from the network,” Aunt Sherry said. “She should be out soon.”
Somebody from the network. My stomach churned, and my regret disappeared. Oh, Operation Knock Her Down a Peg was definitely on.
“What’s that you brought?” Aunt Sherry asked, nodding at the tinfoil-covered dish in my hands. “It smells wonderful.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s butternut squash.”
“Mmm,” she said. “Well, I should probably check on things in the kitchen. I can take it back there for you.”
“The commercials just finished, and I can tell how much you’re enjoying the game. Why don’t you let Aimee and me take care of things in the kitchen?”
She seemed to waver as everyone flopped back onto their seats, once again mesmerized by the TV. “Are you sure, Cathleen dear?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Definitely.”
“Well, then, okay. You holler if you need any help.”
Could this be any easier?
Aimee and I headed into the kitchen. She texted Meredith that the coast was clear while I unlocked the back door. Then I took a look around. Janet’s immaculate kitchen always made me jealous. She had state-of-the-art everything with cream-colored maple cabinets, glossy red-oak floors, mocha-colored granite countertops, and Tuscan furnishings. Every cooktop burner was covered with stainless-steel pots, each warming something that surely would taste delectable. Her enormous island was filled with salads and pies. I switched on the top oven light. The turkey was basting in its own juices. In the oven below, casseroles were warming. The room could have come straight from Better Homes and Gardens. No dirty dishes in the sink. No spills on the floor. I thought back to the mess we’d left in my kitchen and wondered how Janet always managed to keep this room spotless.
“I’ve got things under control here,” I told Aimee. “Go hang out in the living room with everyone else. Try to keep them all in there. If you can’t, text me. And most important, if Janet leaves her study, loudly say hello to her and distract her as long as you can.”
“I know, Mom. Will do.”
Aimee scurried out of the room. I headed back to the ovens. I shut off the lower one—appliances can be so temperamental—so my “marshmallow” packing peanuts would maintain their appearance once our casserole was stowed in there, and every dish in that oven would start to cool, further ruining their taste. Next I walked to the stove. In the third pot, I found the pumpkin soup, so hearty-looking, with a spicy scent of nutmeg that made my mouth water. I was tempted to taste it, but then, from the corner of my eye, I spotted Meredith and Eva through the window, running across the lawn. The wind had kicked up even more, and their long hair was flying about. I hurried to the kitchen door and pulled it open for them, glad they wore coats and oven mitts.
“What’ve you got?” I whispered.
“Green beans,” Eva said.
“And sweet potatoes,” Meredith added.
I waved the girls in. “Unwrap them while I grab the originals.” My heart started beating fast as I donned my own oven mitts. No turning back now.
I pulled the green-bean casserole from the oven and set it on the counter. The sweet-potato version quickly followed. Meredith handed me the duplicates to put in the oven, while Eva covered the food Janet had cooked with the tinfoil from our original dishes.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked.
“They smell so good,” Eva said. “No use wasting them. We can eat them when we get home. It’s so cold out, the car will act as a refrigerator.”
Smart girl.
“We’ll bring the soup and pie next,” Meredith said on their way out the door. “And save the turkey for last.”
I nodded. It would be heavy.
While I waited for them to return, I shut off the burner beneath Janet’s pumpkin soup. Then I poured all of it down the sink. Such a waste, but necessary. The girls could run to the car if they didn’t have to worry about spilling Janet’s soup. As I set the empty pot back on the cooktop, I prayed Janet wouldn’t come to check on the soup before I could put the replacement on the stove. Of course, praying didn’t take very long, so I paced some. Finally I texted Aimee, simply to have something to do.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“All clear,” she responded.
I went to the back door, afraid something had gone wrong. Where were they? Then I spotted them through door’s window. Eva was walking carefully, carrying the soup. Oh, no. Meredith should have taken it. She’s much stronger. The pot wobbled in Eva’s hands. Be careful, sweetheart. Don’t spill it.
I yanked open the door. Several yellow leaves skittered inside, landing underneath the round stone breakfast table. Darn it. I’d have to pick
them all up or Janet would wonder how they’d gotten in, and if she figured out I’d open the door, she’d wonder why. I had no good reason to do it.
Eva carried my soup straight toward the stove. Just before she reached it, the living room erupted in touchdown cheers. Eva jumped at the noise, and some of the soup slopped over the side of the pot, onto the floor.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up.”
But first I pulled Janet’s empty pumpkin soup pot off the cooktop so Eva could set our mostly full one on it, and I turned the burner on again. Eva released a big sigh as she took Janet’s empty pot. Her arms were clearly tiring, and the turkey was still in the car. But she was a trouper. No complaining. Meredith had already switched the pecan pies so the girls rushed off once more.
I grabbed a sponge and wiped the side of the soup pot, then I dropped to my knees to clean the floor. While I was down there, I realized I’d best get those leaves. I crawled to the table and crept under it, and had just grabbed an orange leaf when my phone chimed. Aimee’s signal. Startled, I raised my head, banging it on the tabletop. Ow. Tentacles of pain slithered over my skull as I crawled backward.
“Lose something, Cathleen?” Janet’s husband, Keith, asked.
Ummm. “An earring,” I said as I stood, shoving the wet sponge in my pocket while I crushed the leaf I’d picked up in my other fist, all the while trying to block Keith’s view of the remaining leaves, and hoping to God the girls were taking their time with that turkey.
Keith tilted his head, examining me, so I examined back. He wore a crisp black blazer over a white cotton shirt and clean black jeans. The epitome of dressy casual.
“Both of them?” he finally asked about my earrings.
When had he become so observant? I hadn’t worn any jewelry today. I hadn’t wanted to worry about anything while we all sped around.
“Oh, no, have I lost them both? It must have happened when we came in from the car. It’s pretty windy out there. Don’t worry. They’re not expensive.”
He shrugged and pulled a beer from the fridge. I eyed the window. No Meredith and Eva, but surely they’d appear soon.
Time to leave, Keith. I sent him a mental command. Football awaits. And I needed to get that disgusting wet sponge out of my pocket.
He popped open the beer and leaned against the fridge. So much for football—and my pants.
“How come you’re hanging out in here instead of watching the game with us?” he asked.
Wow, I couldn’t remember him ever being this chatty. “I have a headache so I thought a little quiet time would do me good.” That headache line was true enough. It was coming on strong.
“I hope you feel better,” he said. “Let me know if you need some Advil.”
“Thanks.”
Keith left the room. Sighing, I pulled the soggy sponge from my pocket, rinsed it quickly in the sink, set it back in its holder, and then finally dashed to the door. Meredith and Eva were about a minute away, struggling with that huge turkey and—oh no—a small yapping dog that was nipping at Meredith’s leg. She kept trying to shake him off. The roasting pan started to tip. No!
I darted outside and clutched Meredith’s side of the pan. But I pushed it up too quickly, causing Eva to nearly lose her grip. The pan began to tip the other way. Eva’s eyes bugged out as turkey juice spilled onto the grass. Meredith ran to Eva’s side to help steady the pan, the dog ran between our legs to lick up the juice, and my heart threatened to run out of my chest and head on home, where I had apparently left my good sense. We all stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, panting hard, while we steadied the turkey, which felt as if it had gained twenty pounds.
“Let’s bring it in,” I said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
We inched toward the door. Please let the coast remain clear. Please. I poked my head inside. The kitchen was empty. Thank you, God.
We heaved the turkey onto the counter. Eva rolled her bony shoulders as I sprinted to the oven. Mitts on. Door open. Turkey removed. Meredith and I lifted our dry turkey, slid it in the oven, and I quietly closed the door. It took all my strength not to slam it.
I looked at the girls. “Go, go, go.” There was no time anymore for tinfoil. Janet’s luscious bird would have to be sacrificed. A casualty of war.
Meredith and Eva grabbed Janet’s uncovered turkey pan, and a small cry escaped Eva’s lips as they hoisted it up. They hurried the best they could into the yard. I followed to close the door. And then I could hardly believe my eyes as I stood in the open doorway. Now three dogs were slurping up the spilled turkey juice, two little ones and one big one.
“Watch out,” I called as the big one spotted the turkey and jumped on Eva’s legs. She squealed, lost her grip, and the turkey tumbled out of the pan, slamming onto the grass.
The big dog, a German shepherd, practically smiled as he lunged at the turkey. He and the two yappers began ripping the bird to shreds. Well, at least someone was enjoying Janet’s turkey. Eva and Meredith stared at me for guidance, but I was at a loss. We couldn’t leave the eventual turkey carcass on the lawn like that. It would be a dead giveaway. But I was afraid the dogs would turn on us if we tried to pry the bird from them. I twirled around. If I could lure the dogs away, the girls could pick up what remained of the bird and make a break for it. Was there something in Janet’s kitchen I could use to entice the dogs from the turkey? Pies. Salads. Gravy. Soup. I couldn’t use any of them. If I did, Janet would wonder what happened to the dish and might grow suspicious and—
“Mom,” Meredith called.
I turned back. The shepherd had gotten a good grip on the turkey, his jaws clamped down over its breast. He began trotting off with it, the two small dogs following on his heels. I made a small prayer to the gods of Thanksgiving as Eva and Meredith went back to the car one last time to stow the roasting pan and I started to shut the door. Of course, right at that moment, a gust of wind blew another dozen leaves inside.
I glanced up. Which is it, God? Are you helping me or punishing me? Make up your mind.
I blew out a deep breath, dropped to the floor, snatched up every last leaf, and shoved them in my pocket. Then I stood, put our turkey’s leftover tinfoil in the trash, and surveyed the kitchen once more. Amazingly, everything looked just right. Wow. We’d actually pulled it off.
“Cousin Janet,” I heard Aimee say extra loudly. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
And not a moment too soon. Wiping my hands on my trousers, I headed to the living room. Aunt Sherry and Aimee were chatting with Janet. Her honey-colored hair with auburn highlights was newly styled, flipping out at her shoulders. She wore a belted maroon cashmere tunic over black skinny jeans. Janet looked like the star she was.
Then Meredith and Eva walked in. They were red-faced, disheveled, and their hair might as well have been in a tornado. Eva’s even had a leaf in it. So much for our side of the family.
Janet stared at them a moment, her thin eyebrows arching high. “My, my,” she said. “What have you girls been up to?”
“Touch football with some friends,” Eva said.
“It got a little more touchy than we expected,” Meredith added, plucking the leaf from Eva’s hair.
I’ll say.
“Well, it’s good to stay active,” Janet said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Eva and Meredith said in unison; then they each gave Janet and Aunt Sherry a kiss on the cheek. We’d talked about it in advance. We all had to act normal. Well, as normal as we could pull off.
“I second that,” I said. “Happy Thanksgiving, Janet.”
She paused and smiled at me. It appeared to be a real smile. It reached her eyes.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Cathleen,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
A tall woman walked toward us from the powder room. She was in her mid-thirties. Wore a beautiful silver silk blouse and a black skirt that flirted with her knees. Her lon
g brown hair was tied back, allowing her dangling earrings to sparkle in the light.
“Have you met Risa Rispoli from the network?” Janet asked me. “She’s the new head of programming.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” But you clearly have, Janet.
The new executive shook my hand as Janet introduced me.
“Good to meet you,” she said.
“Risa and I just had a long discussion about our future at the network,” Janet said. “I probably should have talked with you about this first, Cathleen…”
I steeled myself. Janet was actually going to dump me right here in front of all these people. Our family. This new network exec. My children.
“Well,” Janet said. “Risa approached me a couple weeks ago about starting a new show. A second show. In addition to Cooking Cousins. One involving audience participation. Something to really involve the fans. The network just wanted me at first, but—”
Risa barked a laugh. “But she put us in our place. Janet wouldn’t agree to any new show without you in it.”
What?
Janet sighed. “I can see from your face you must have read that nasty gossip column. That reporter got it all wrong.” She grasped my hand. “We’re in this together, Cuz, as always.”
A lump grew in my throat as the pounding in my head increased.
“Yep, it’s a done deal,” Risa said, “assuming I’m happy with the food today, which I’m sure I will be. Janet sold me on you, Cathleen, because of your recipes. I’m really looking forward to eating this Thanksgiving meal.”
“You’re going to love it, Risa.” Janet squeezed my hand, smiling again. “I used Cathleen’s recipes for every single dish.”
A Pig in a Poke
By Herschel Cozine
My cousin Lem ain’t exactly one of them geniuses you hear about. And I guess I’m about as dumb as a toadstool, too, for lettin’ him talk me into stealin’ that pig from Jeb Barlow’s place. It wasn’t one of the smartest things I ever done, and I done some pretty stupid things in my life, I reckon. Come to think of it, considerin’ we didn’t even get the pig, it was about a dumb a thing as I ever did. But with Thanksgivin’ comin’ and all, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Thanksgivin’ is one of them special days when the President says we gotta give thanks fer all of our blessin’s and such. But I ain’t been blessed since the day Ellie May was born. Now I ain’t even sure about that.
The Killer Wore Cranberry Page 5