| |
Jenny pulled a fresh batch of muffins out of the oven, thinking about the missing turkey.
“Dreaming about a date with Adam?” a voice giggled.
Heather Morse was an attractive brunette who was ten years younger than Jenny. She was part of the group of women Jenny was beginning to rely on.
“Don’t be silly. Unlike you, I am not interested in thinking about men.”
“Not even tall, handsome, brooding ones? The Heathcliff types?”
Heather was referring to the local sheriff, Adam Hopkins. He wasn’t very happy with Jenny’s amateur sleuthing and the two had butted heads several times. But Adam found Jenny attractive and had been trying to ask her out.
Jenny handed over a plate of warm pumpkin chocolate chip muffins and followed with a pot of fresh coffee.
Betty Sue Morse sat at their favorite table on the deck, chatting with Star. Her hands were busy knitting something red and green. A lanky young woman wearing thick Coke bottle glasses sat with them, trying to follow the conversation. Petunia completed the circle.
Jenny’s face stretched into a wide smile as she joined her friends. Morning coffee with these women had become a ritual she looked forward to each day. Heather had insisted they christen themselves the Magnolias, inspired by her favorite film.
“Have you come to a decision?” Betty Sue boomed.
Betty Sue was the fourth generation descendant of James Morse, the original founder of the island. It had been called Morse Isle then. He had traveled south with his wife and children in 1837 and bought the island for $125. He sent for his friends after he settled down and they in turn spread the word.
The tiny island community flourished over the years. Over a century later, the Great Storm of 1962 wreaked havoc in the area. A large amount of land was submerged forever. People from the surrounding areas sought refuge on the island. A new town emerged and was named Pelican Cove.
Betty Sue wielded a lot of power on the island. Jenny was eager to learn what she thought of the Poultry Prince.
“You don’t think the turkey just flew away?” she smiled.
Heather wanted to know more. Jenny told them about her strange visitor while they made quick work of the muffins.
“His face used to be plastered across those giant billboards, remember?” Star prompted. “He wore some kind of silly crown and held a chick in his palm.”
“Haven’t seen those around in a while.” Molly picked out the chocolate chips from her muffin and licked her fingers. “Kind of creepy, if you ask me.”
“Tacky, more like.” Heather offered her two cents.
“Wow!” Jenny laughed. “So none of you like him.”
Betty Sue put her needles down and began slicing her muffin.
“They are just being unkind. What did he ever do to you, girls?” She shook her head and slathered butter over the muffin.
Jenny sensed Betty Sue was just warming up.
“Harrison Webster was the Poultry Prince. The name suited him. He minted money with those chickens and generated a lot of jobs for the locals. This was long before the big poultry companies discovered the Eastern Shore.”
She paused to take a bite and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
“One dark day, one of those bird viruses infected his chickens. The whole stock died. The big corporations swooped in soon after. Harrison never got back up. He raises a few birds in his yard now, just for old times’ sakes.”
“What about this turkey?” Star asked. “He sounds pretty attached to it.”
“I don’t understand why he came to me,” Jenny grumbled. “And what’s Eddie Cotton doing, telling people I’m a detective?”
“Face it, Jenny!” Heather winked. “You’re famous!”
“Our very own local celebrity,” Molly nodded vigorously.
She stood up and gathered her books. Molly didn’t go anywhere without them.
“Hold on a bit, Molly,” Star said. “We need to finalize our Thanksgiving plans. Jenny and I need to start working on the menus.”
Betty Sue wanted to invite everyone to the Bayview Inn. Petunia suggested having a big dinner at the café with all their friends. They were so engrossed in the discussion that nobody noticed the two women who came up the café steps.
“Yoooohoooo!”
The Magnolias spun around and stared at the rosy cheeked woman beaming at them. She wore a string of pearls around her neck and a thin sheen of perspiration dotted her upper lip. A trim young woman dressed in a business suit stood next to her, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Hello Barb!” Jenny greeted her warmly.
“What do you want?” Star cut in.
“Why aren’t you in Florida yet?” Betty Sue thundered.
Barb Norton was the local busybody. She sat on various committees and made sure all the town events were executed smoothly. Despite her overtures of friendship, Betty Sue and Star often gave her the cold shoulder. They had told Jenny that Barb Norton would never be one of them.
“I don’t go south until after Thanksgiving.” Barb patted her bob and launched into her plans for the winter. She couldn’t wait to visit her daughter and grandkids.
Her companion steered her back on track.
“Tell them about the contest, Barb.”
Heather folded her arms and stared at the prim young woman.
“I thought you were gone for good, Mandy.”
Mandy James was a hotshot consultant who had helped the town win the title of Prettiest Small Town in America. But she hadn’t endeared herself to anyone in the process.
“Mandy’s helping me with our Thanksgiving celebrations,” Barb declared. “We’re going to put up the best show on the Eastern Shore.”
Betty Sue’s chest heaved indignantly.
“Why do I not know about this? You cannot make this kind of decision without my approval.”
“Relax, Betty Sue.” Barb sat down next to her and gazed longingly at the plate of muffins.
Jenny urged her to take one. Barb thanked her and bit into the sweet treat without wasting any time.
“It’s like this,” she began. “We are holding a contest for Best Turkey. Cooked, of course.” Barb giggled. “It will be held in the town square on Thanksgiving Day. It’s going to make us famous.”
Betty Sue’s snort could be heard a quarter mile down the boardwalk.
“And people are going to leave their own Thanksgiving dinner to come watch this competition?”
