“I think I smell snow in the air,” Charlie said.
“It’s not gonna snow,” came the gruff voice of Mr. Wilberson from the kitchen. “My joints aren’t aching enough.”
Charlie grinned and called back, “You know, joint pain predicting the weather has never been proven to be real, Mr. Wilberson.”
A few moments of silence passed before the old man poked his head out of the kitchen and fixed an eye on Charlie. “You calling me a liar?” he said and frowned.
Charlie, being the smart man that he was, backtracked like crazy. “Uh, no, not at all. Just making conversation. It probably won’t snow.”
Mr. Wilberson glared at him for a moment longer before grunting and disappearing back into the kitchen. When he did so, Charlie gave an exaggerated look of relief and quietly wiped his forehead. Reggie, Lanie, and Robert all grinned back before following him into the living room.
“Welcome!” Hazel said, coming up to each of them and hugging them. Even Reggie, who barely knew anyone, received the warm welcome and smiled because of it. “Please, take a seat. You’re just in time, dinner is about to be served.”
The table was an old, oak antique but was large enough to seat everyone with comfort. When Kat had built the house, she’d made the living and dining room large enough to accommodate people without having to squeeze them in. From the few stories she’d heard about Kat Morgan, it seemed like she was antisocial and unwelcoming, but the size of the common rooms belied that and made Abby wonder.
She stood, watching everyone gather for dinner and smiled. Gabe came up behind her, reaching around her and hugging her as she leaned back against him. It was a beautiful Christmas. One of the first ones in a long time where she’d felt right at home.
Chapter 19
“That was one of the best-cooked turkeys I’ve ever had,” Earl said, before looking at his wife. “Except for yours, of course, dear.”
Janice laughed and patted him on the arm. “No, Earl, I think that was better than mine, but Mrs. Morgan has been cooking just a bit longer than I have. I’m not too proud to admit it.”
“I’ve found that friends and family spice up a dinner quite nicely,” Hazel said graciously as she stood up. “Now, who wants some cherry pie? Or we have apple as well, along with some ice-cream from Butters.”
Everyone smiled as Hazel went into the kitchen, but all of them were wondering if they’d have room for dessert except for perhaps Reggie. He glanced at the ham but decided to wait until after pie, turning to the table instead. “We did one of those deep-fried turkeys last year. It took me a month to regrow my eyebrows, but boy was it good. I don’t recommend doing that unless you have a large, concrete area outside.”
Robert laughed. “I’ve heard that about fried turkey. Can’t say I’ve been brave enough to try it, though. Did you really burn off your eyebrows?”
Reggie chuckled and shook his head. “No, but I came close to it. That much oil isn’t anything to mess with. What kind of Christmas dinners do you do in Chicago with your family, Robert?”
“Same as this,” Robert answered. “Except my mother makes this great mashed cauliflower recipe. She puts three kinds of cheese into it, and it tastes great even if I’ve never heard of anyone else making it.”
“So why aren’t you back in Chicago for Christmas, Mr. Carrington?” Abby asked.
Robert turned to her and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Business, I’m afraid. I wish I could be back there right now, but duty is very high on my and my father’s responsibilities list.” The man was only a few years older than Abby, but as he sighed, he seemed to add a few years.
“But it’s Christmas time,” Abby pushed. “What duty could be so insistent? Surely flying back for a few days wouldn’t be impossible.”
“Are you saying I didn’t put on enough cologne this morning, Mrs. Morgan?” Robert said, smiling.
“No, of course not, but you have to admit it’s just a little odd.” Abby paused, then looking around at the rest of them. “Maybe I'm just paranoid. So much has happened I guess I’m just naturally suspicious.”
Robert smiled and reached over, patting Abby’s hand. “I forgive you, but I do understand. What’s an obviously wealthy, well-to-do lawyer doing in a small town on Christmas? That’s not a bad question. The answer is, I’m here to protect a client.”
“A client?” Abby asked. “Do we know this client?”
Robert grinned but didn’t answer. However, at that moment, Hazel came back in carrying one of the pies and placed it on the table. It had already been cut into pieces and Gabe, who was closest, began putting pieces on plates and holding them up for whoever wanted that particular pie.
“We’re the clients, Abby,” Hazel said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “How do you think I’ve kept Senator Clark at bay all of these years?”
Abby blinked, and from everyone else’s expressions, they were equally as surprised. “But how?” Abby asked, then turned to Robert. “Unless you’re doing your work pro-bono, or whatever that word is.”
“I can’t disclose anything to you, Abby,” Robert said. “Any information you get will have to come from Hazel.”
Abby looked from Robert to Hazel, but her Grandmother didn’t seem inclined to speak. In fact, she’d turned and was about to head into the kitchen when Becky spoke. “It’s the treasure!” she said, excitedly. “It’s real, isn’t it!?”
Hazel turned and gave Becky a disapproving stare before she continued into the kitchen, but Becky wasn’t going to let it dampen her spirits. Instead, the fiery red-head bounced in her seat, causing Cheerio to come over and yip excitedly. “I knew it! I knew it was real!”
“You don’t know it’s real, Becky,” Abby said. You’re just reading things into this. They didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, come on, Abby,” Becky said, pointing at Robert. “Look at how much he’s not saying anything. He’s practically screaming that there’s a Morgan Family Treasure!”
Abby saw Robert quietly roll his eyes and shake his head, but that could be for many reasons. Even if it weren’t true, something was going on that Abby wanted to get to the bottom of.
She was interrupted from her reverie by Reggie who looked completely lost. “Uh, what treasure are you all talking about?” Reggie asked.
“Don’t let em pull your leg, son,” Earl said, grinning at the big man. “There’s some rumor about treasure and Kat Morgan, Hazel’s ancestor that came to town and built this house a hundred years ago. The story goes, she blew up a U.S. Army base back in the old west that was guarding a bunch of gold and then made off with it.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Charlie piped in. “I heard that she robbed a circus, then made off with the elephants who carried the gold for her.”
Mr. Wilberson rolled his eyes and glared at them all. “Would you all stop talking about it? I have to chase off at least ten people a year from the island during the summer because of that foolish talk,” he said, pulling a piece of ham off of his plate and holding it under the table for Cheerio to nibble. The dog moved over and obliged the old man though not as energetically as he had at the beginning of the meal. Even Cheerio was feeling full.
Reggie chuckled. “Wow, you have your own family treasure thing going on? I feel like I’m on the set of The Goonies or something.” He suddenly straightened and held his hand up. “I solemnly swear I won’t tell a soul, though. I don’t need a dead pirate haunting me.”
Abby looked over at Robert who was doing an excellent job of ignoring the conversation. It was clear they weren’t going to get any real answers out of the man, or Hazel for that matter, but it only spiced up Abby’s curiosity. She decided to talk to her Grandmother about it, but later. If there really was a family secret, she doubted Hazel wanted to talk about it in front of everyone.
“So, Mr. Carrington, I’ll stop prying about why you have an interest in protecting Hazel. I can sympathize with that, but can you tell me what you’re protecting her from?�
��
Robert put his fork down and looked up at Abby, raising an eyebrow. “You already know who and what. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“The senator,” Abby breathed. The entire table had gone quiet, though Reggie was still shoveling some pie into his mouth as he listened. “And this Foundation, right?”
Robert nodded. “Exactly right. We know it’s a threat though we’re still not sure how, yet.”
“It’s obvious,” Earl said. “They’re attacking our liberties and trying to control the town. This Association of Don’s is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Robert nodded, “That could be, Mr. Huygens, but I’m still not convinced that’s the real thrust of it. Though it’s a threat, I think much of it is just smoke and mirrors, though I could be wrong. There have been plenty of communities that have been ruined by over-eager managers. Even that barrier out on the bridge just seems to be petty harassment.”
“Petty harassment?” Mr. Wilberson bristled. “You call blocking our rights to enter and exit our property just petty harassment?”
Robert nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said simply. “They haven’t blocked your ability to enter or exit the island, they’ve just blocked one avenue of it. Granted, it’s a giant pile of horse droppings, but that’s all it is. This issue is being resolved, if a bit slowly. They can’t keep it blocked forever.”
So, they’re after something else?” Abby asked.
Robert nodded. “I think so, and the only way to find out what the senator might be up to is to talk to the people that are being used as his pawns.”
“The council members,” Gabe said, leaning forward. “It’s the council members, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but the trick will be in how to approach them, so they aren’t immediately on their guard.”
“That’s easy,” Hazel said, smiling. At their blank looks, she shrugged and waved her Christmas-themed hand towel at them. “Oh, come now. It’s Christmas time! Who doesn’t like a few, home-baked cookies!”
They all grinned at each other before Becky rubbed her hands together. “I like it. Sneaky old lady cookies! They won’t know what hit them!”
Chapter 20
Abby and Gabe drove slowly onto the road that led up to the Carthridge Feed and Grain store. It was the twenty-sixth, and while most places had been closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, some of them opened up the day after.
The feed and grain store was one of the stores that opened for which Abby was grateful. Not knowing the Carthridge family, she would have felt odd just driving up to their house with cookies. This made it a lot easier, and they’d brought plenty. Abby glanced back at Cheerio who was sitting next to a several more plates full of the various kinds her Grandmother had made. Cheerio looked at them every now and again, but she was thankful her dog knew the difference between treats for him and people food.
“Looks like they’re doing some work around the old place,” Gabe said without emotion.
Abby took a deep breath and nodded. No one was outside working since it was just after Christmas, but they could see new siding applied recently. Abby suspected there would be more outside work if it hadn’t been in the middle of winter or around Christmas. As she understood it, some things could still be done through December, but once January hit, the rains usually came which stalled most outside work.
“Maybe they’re just using their own money,” Abby said, though by the tone of her voice, she didn’t believe a word of what she’d just said. If they was taking money from the senator’s Foundation, it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that they were on the side of Don Buckshire, but it wasn’t a good sign.
The truck stopped, and Abby shut off the engine, exchanging a look with Gabe before they both stepped out of the car. Gabe opened the back door, letting Cheerio bound out before reaching in and picking up one of the plates of cookies.
It was a festive affair, being all greens, reds, and whites with a Christmas theme. The variety of cookies only added to the gaiety. Despite their ulterior motives, Abby was pleased to be bringing cookies out to the people of Red Pine Falls. They planned to stop not only at the council members’ places of business but others as well.
Abby held the door for Gabe, listening to the happy tinkling of the bell that announced their presence. Abby breathed in, taking in the earthy odors that assaulted her senses. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the many strong smells, but it was still pleasant, having most of the good and few of the bad aromas of a farm.
Inside was a middle-aged man wearing an orange and black trucker’s hat who smiled at them as they came in. “Well! What’s this?” he said, grinning and eying the cookies they held.
“Gabe smiled back. “Got some cookies for you and your wife, Red. Figured we’d make Christmas last just a bit longer if we could. How’s business?”
Red grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Slow, but that’s expected. I’m powerful happy about cookies, though.” He looked at Abby. “Please tell me you made these. I’ve heard Gabe is great with fish, but I’ve never heard of him making cookies before.”
Abby smiled and shook her head. “Nope! Hazel Morgan made these, so you know they are going to be good.” She held her hand out. “My name is Abby Morgan; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Abby Morgan? I’ve heard that name before,” Red said, taking his hat off and scratching his balding, pale blond hair. Then he turned his attention to the plate of cookies and began peeling the plastic wrap off. “I love Hazel’s cooking, though. It sounds like you're related?”
Abby was dumbfounded but thankful that someone didn’t call her Hurricane Abby right off the bat. She pointed at one of the peanut butter oatmeal cookies. “These are my favorites,” she said, then looked around as Red picked up that cookie and took a bite. There was more work being done on the inside with several shelves being remodeled and obviously brand new paint gracing the walls.
As if reading her mind, Gabe cleared his throat as Red was enjoying the cookie. “Lots of work being done around the old place, Red. It looks good. Are you taking advantage of that Foundation that’s been advertising around town?”
Red nodded, still chewing on the last of the cookie and swallowing before he spoke again. “Yep. Got to strike while the iron is hot, I say. It’s already making everything look better, and people could use the work.”
“And it will all look good together thanks to the Urban Renewal Association,” came a woman’s voice from behind them. Abby and Gabe turned to see a woman carrying a box in from the outside. She was middle-aged like Red, but where Red seemed to have an eternal smile on his face, his wife had a frown and was leveling her narrowed gaze at Abby. “You’re Abby Morgan, aren’t you? The description fits.”
Abby was taken aback and for once was at a loss for words. Cheerio had his paws up on the counter, but at the unfriendly words, he dropped and turned, watching the new woman carefully. It was clear the woman had heard of her and seemed to have an attitude before they’d even been introduced. Still, Abby stepped forward and held her hand out as the woman put the box down on top of some others. “Yes, I’m Abby Morgan. Are you Francine?”
The woman straightened but didn’t hold her hand out. Instead, she crossed her arms under her bosom and gave Abby an unfriendly look. “Yes, I am Francine, and I’ve heard all about you from Don and some other folks. It seems you have a habit of sticking your nose into other people’s business. How long have you been in town?”
Abby frowned and dropped her hand. “A few months,” she said softly.
“A few months too long, I think,” Francine said coldly.
“Francine, come on now,” Red said to his wife, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her icy stare firmly on Abby.
But Abby had had enough. She put her hands on her own hips and returned the look. “I’m sorry if you think I’m sticking my nose in anywhere, Mrs. Carthridge. Can you tell me exactly which action it is you find objectionable?”
“The Association, of
course,” Francine said. “I hear you don’t agree with it and have talked several townsfolks out of registering for it. Don’t you know it’s there to make sure our town prospers? We’re trying to make Red Pine Falls successful, and the way I hear it, you're fear mongering. You and your Grandmother can’t even keep your own home in repair. Why should anyone listen to you?”
“I haven't talked anyone out of anything, Mrs. Carthridge,” Abby said, coldly. She didn’t like how this woman was talking about her home or her Grandmother. “Just who is it I’m supposed to have talked out of joining your Association?”
“The Calem sisters, and the new manager for McGradys. There are several other people who won’t join the Association and Don says it’s because of your interference,” Francine said, then lowered her voice even further. “I think you should just consider moving out of our town, Mrs. Morgan. We don’t want you here.”
Abby gritted her teeth but managed to keep her temper, if only barely. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’ve not actually convinced any of those people to do anything. They were already set against it. Most likely because it’s a bad idea being led by a power-hungry megalomaniac and his sycophants.”
Francine stepped back and put her hand over her heart, clearly offended. “Well, I never!” she said and began sputtering. Right about then, Red came over and stepped between them, putting his hands on either side of Francine’s shoulder and blocking her view of Abby. He turned his head to them, looking sad but determined. “You should probably go.”
Abby frowned but nodded. Red, at least, had been pleasant and she didn’t want to cause him any further issues. She and Gabe left, followed closely by Cheerio. They looked at each other with concern as they got into Gabe’s truck and drove away.
“Well, that went spectacularly,” Gabe said cheerfully. “I think we have a fairly good idea on where Francine falls on the matter. Who’s next? There’s John Tillsdale and Gini Moore. Both are in town, though Gini’s is closest. I’m not sure if either of them will be open today.
Dead Reckoning and Murderous Intent, A Red Pine Falls Cozy Mystery (Red Pine Falls Cozy Mysteries Book 4) Page 8
