Turkey Day Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

were all there. At the parade, like she said they would be.”
    â€œReally? You saw them in New York?”
    â€œYeah, Mom. Isn’t that cool? She told me in school yesterday, to look for her, and I did and I saw her! I can’t wait to tell her.”
    â€œThat is pretty cool,” said Lucy. “Is the parade almost over?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œGood, because it’s almost time for the game. Would you tell the others so they can get ready to go?”
    â€œSure thing, Mom.”
    A miracle. A small miracle. She’d asked one of her children to do something and she’d done it willingly. Treasure the moment, Lucy told herself as she checked the dining room table.
    Everything was in place: the linen tablecloth and napkins, the cornucopia of fresh fruit and nuts, the twelve place settings with assorted flatware. Three pies—pumpkin, apple, and mince—were sitting on the sideboard along with dessert plates and coffee cups and saucers. It all looked very nice, she thought, pausing to admire the new wallpaper.
    In the kitchen, the turkey was stuffed and roasting in the oven; it would be almost done when they got home. The brown rice casserole only needed a few minutes in the microwave; the potatoes were peeled and in the pot, covered with water and ready to cook. Cranberry sauce, pickles, and celery with olives were arranged on crystal dishes and covered with plastic wrap, cooling in the refrigerator. So was the wine, and the coffeepot was set up and ready to go.
    And so was she. Ready to go and cheer for the home team at the football game.
    Taking her place beside Bill in the Subaru, Lucy firmly pushed all thoughts of Toby and his friends from her mind. They had transportation. They could come to the game if they wanted to. She wasn’t going to worry about them. She and Bill and the two younger girls would have a lovely time on their own. Elizabeth, never a big football fan, had offered to stay home and keep an eye on the turkey. What a contrast to her thoughtless, irresponsible, selfish brother!
    â€œIt’s a perfect day for football,” said Bill, interrupting her thoughts.
    Lucy considered. The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky, there was no wind to speak of, and there was just a slight nip in the air.
    â€œIt’s perfect,” Lucy agreed, hoping that Toby and his friends wouldn’t miss the game. It would be a shame, on such a nice day, to stay cooped up in the house.
    Instead of going straight into town, Bill took the long way round on the shore road. There, big, old-fashioned, gray-shingled “cottages” stood on the bluff overlooking the cove. The trees were bare, and brown leaves had drifted into the road, but tall, pointed fir trees provided a touch of green here and there. Beyond the houses they could see the sea, deep blue with a scattering of tiny whitecaps. Farther out, on the horizon, they could see the humped shape of Metinnicut Island.
    â€œSee the seals!” exclaimed Sara, pointing to a small cluster of rocks.
    Bill pulled off the road and stopped the car. Lucy took a closer look and saw several seals lounging in the sun. As she watched, one slid into the water.
    â€œIt’s not a bad place to live,” said Bill as they turned back onto the road.
    â€œNot bad at all,” agreed Lucy, resolving to concentrate on her many blessings rather than dwelling on her problems with Toby. After all, he was in college. It wasn’t as if he were in jail or unemployed or working at a dead-end job somewhere.
    Traffic grew heavier as they approached the field, so Bill decided to park alongside the road rather than try to find a spot in the parking lot. They climbed out and joined the crowd of walkers on the sidewalk.
    As they marched along, Lucy kicked the dry brown leaves that covered the sidewalk and sniffed their sharp, musky scent. She grinned at the girls and slipped her arm through Bill’s. When they turned the