The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2) (7 page)

“Thanksgiving. This year it’s Zoe’s turn to host, so we’ll all meet here.”

Zak looked at me before answering.

“I’d planned to ask you. You can bring the wine,” I joked, as I accepted the bottles he’d brought with him. Sure enough, I was certain one of them retailed for over a hundred dollars.

“I’d love to come,” Zak said.

“I may bring someone as well,” Ellie added. “Do you think there’ll be room?”

I did a mental calculation. My dad and Pappy, Levi and Barbie, Ellie, her mother, and her mystery date, Zak and me, and the small pack of dogs we owned among us. It was going to be tight.

“How about we have the dinner at my place?” Zak offered. “I’ve wanted to have everyone over for a housewarming of sorts.”

Zak is in the process of buying my maternal grandfather’s estate, a huge residence that hugs the shoreline just around the bend from my little boathouse. Zak had mentioned that my grandfather didn’t want to bother with moving the furniture, so they’d made everything right down to the linens part of the deal. I knew the dining room table would seat at least twenty-five, and with twenty-thousand square feet of living space, tripping over each other wouldn’t be a problem.

“You don’t mind?” I asked.

“Not at all. I’d love to host the event. I have plenty of room to stretch out, and tons of room for the dogs to run around and play without being underfoot.”

“I’ll come by early and help you with the cooking,” I offered.

“I’ll have coffee and sticky buns,” Zak promised.

“Awesome.” Levi clapped. “It looks like we have a plan. I wanted to bring Barbie to the community dinner, but she wasn’t into it. A feast in Zak’s mansion is definitely more up her alley.”

“Speaking of the community dinner,” I decided to change the subject, “I heard the committee voted to change it from the Wednesday to the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.”

Ellie, Levi, and I are members of the Ashton Falls Events Committee, a community group formed to oversee the planning and implementation of the myriad celebrations and events designed to bring the almighty tourist dollar from the large cities below, up the mountain to our tiny alpine town. Each month there’s a major fund-raising effort, without which the volunteer fire department, free public library, afterschool sports and activities programs, and subsidized day care, wouldn’t be possible. Up until two weeks ago, when the county fired me and decided to close the animal control and rehabilitation facility, a good portion of my own job funding had come from fund-raising as well. With the closure of the facility, I was unsure whether I’d remain on the committee, and I’d missed the last two meetings.

“I thought I’d mentioned it,” Ellie confirmed. “The group is hoping there’ll be less of a conflict with everyone’s travel plans. You know,” Ellie looked directly at me, “you really should try to make the next meeting. I realize you no longer need the funding the group provides, but the group could still use your help.”

I winced. Ellie was right. I seriously needed to get over myself and join the living. I knew the committee was depending on me to organize the Christmas event the following month, but I’d been so self-involved that I’d let everyone down. I certainly wasn’t the first person to be fired from a dream job and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. I was tied up with my duty at the turkey farm the following week but promised to help out with the dinner and attend the meeting the week after that.

Since the following day was Sunday and Donovan’s, the store my dad owns and operates, was closed, he volunteered to come over to stay with Maggie. I’d like to go on record as stating that my dad is great. I mean really, really great. Not only did he raise me on his own but he has been there for me every day, loving me, supporting me, and adopting the various hard-to-place animals I end up bringing to his doorstep when no one else seems quite right.

As arranged, he showed up at seven o’clock with his dogs, Tucker and Kiva, in tow.

“So how’s our little mom-to-be?” Dad asked.

“She’s doing well. I can feel the pups moving around, so I figure it won’t be long. I have a birthing box set up for her in my bedroom should the blessed event take place while I’m away, and of course you have Scott’s number.”

“It was nice that you suggested breakfast,” Dad commented. “It’s been a while since we had a chance to catch up.”

“It has,” I agreed as I set a platter with scrambled eggs and toast on the oak dining table. “So what’s new in your life?”

I prayed he’d bring up the subject of my mother so I wouldn’t have to confront him with what I was beginning to consider a major betrayal. Zak had let it slip a few weeks ago that my mother was not only in town but had been for several months and hadn’t bothered to contact me in all that time. To make matters worse, I found out that my dad actually had had dinner with the woman and likewise failed to mention it, even though I see him on an almost daily basis. I’ve been waiting for him to broach the subject but have finally decided if he doesn’t do it this morning, I’m going to bring it up myself.

“Not much,” Dad replied to my question.

“How was your date?”

“Date?”

“The week before Halloween, when I came in to Donovan’s to talk to you about Kiva, we were trying to work out a time to have dinner and you mentioned you had a date on that Monday. I was just wondering how it went. You ended up canceling dinner with me on Tuesday, and we haven’t really had a chance to talk since.”

I noticed that my dad was going out of his way to avoid eye contact. Not a good sign in my book. I’ve gone over the situation again and again in my head but have been unable to make sense of any of it. My dad and I are close, and as far as I know, we never keep secrets from each other. The fact that he’d been in contact with my mother and hadn’t bothered to mention it to me felt like a betrayal of trust.

For the record, for those of you who don’t really know me, I tend to be just a tad OCD when it comes to my most important relationships. While I can go with the flow in many areas of my life, I have a compulsive need to maintain a state of equilibrium in my close relationships. I know this about myself, and in spite of my amateur psychoanalysis of my emotional foible, I’ve been unable to change the insane behavior that follows an imbalance in this desired state.

My dad seemed uncomfortable with my line of questioning, and I knew the kind thing to do was let him off the hook; after all, he was here in my home at seven o’clock in the morning to do me a huge favor.

“I know about Mom,” I blurted out. “How could you know she was in town and not tell me?”

Dad took my hand from across the table. “I know I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?
”  I screeched. See: crazy. “You had dinner with my mother and you’re
sorry
you forgot to mention it?”

“I didn’t forget,” Dad admitted. “It was a complicated situation and I didn’t want to upset you needlessly. I admit I handled it badly.”

“Complicated?” My eyes began to tear up. “How could things be any more complicated than they have my entire life?”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know if you can rein in the drama-queen routine and listen to what I have to say with an open mind.”

Did I mention that my dad knows me well enough to realize when I’m being ridiculously dramatic, which I have to confess is more often than I’d like?

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and dried my eyes. “No more hysterics. I promise.”

My dad fidgeted with his napkin while I pulled myself together. “Your mom came to see me several months ago,” he began. “She was engaged to a prince from some small country I’ve never heard of. As she neared the day of her nuptials, she began to regret some of the choices she’d made in her life. She said that she had lived the life she always thought she wanted: world travel, exotic love affairs, thrilling adventures. Yet, somehow, she felt empty. She began to think about us and realized that maybe what she really wanted was the one thing she’d had all along but had thrown away. She asked me if I could forgive her, if I could make room for her in my life.”

Tears started to trail down my cheeks again, but this time they weren’t tears from Zoe the crazy but Zoe the abandoned child. “She didn’t want to see me?” I whispered.

“She did.” My dad squeezed my hand. “But your mom has hurt you so much already. She’s broken more promises to you than she’s ever kept. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want either of us to get hurt again.”

I knew my dad had loved my mother his whole life. She’d used him and then tossed him aside. But he’d never stopped loving her, which probably explains why he’s never really dated.

“So you had dinner with her?” I prompted.

“I agreed to see her on a limited basis if she agreed to stay away from you until we decided what, if anything, this might mean for us. I love your mother. I always have and I always will. I guess there has always been a part of me waiting for her. When she showed up on my doorstep and offered me my heart’s desire, I wasn’t sure how to react.”

For once in my life I kept my mouth shut and listened to what my father was trying to tell me.

“At first I was reluctant to let her back into my life even a tiny bit, but then she rented a cottage on the beach and I could see she was serious about staying. After a month or so, I agreed to a dinner, and she told me that she wanted to have another chance with me if I’d let her.”

My heart sank. I knew my mother had left town more than two weeks ago, so obviously things hadn’t worked out.

“We went out a few more times and it was,” Dad paused, “perfect. We laughed and we cried. It felt like the woman I’d always loved was back in my life. I was going to tell you. I thought we could finally be a family. But . . .”

“Then she left,” I finished.

“I guess things got too intense for her,” my dad said sadly. “In many ways you’re a lot like your mother. You tend to go a little insane if your most important relationships are disturbed in any way and your mom tends to go a little insane if the people she cares most about get too close. She’s as afraid of letting people in as you are of letting them go.”

I noticed moisture in my dad’s eyes that broke my heart. “Did she go back to her prince?”

My dad shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess. She doesn’t really love him, so she’ll probably be able to marry him.”

I know it sounds insane, but I totally understood where my mom was coming from. The thing we both feared was strong and uncontrolled emotion. We wanted our relationships to be neat and tidy, without any of the messy by-products that come from change or emotional risk. I know that’s why I’ve had such a hard time letting Zak in, and why Ellie’s feelings for Levi scare me to death. There’s a part of me that wants, even needs, to keep things steady and stable.

“I’m sorry.” I got up, walked around the table, and hugged my dad. We both cried for the woman we loved who could never love us back.

“Something wrong?” Jeremy asked as I stood staring at the pens of turkeys.

“Doesn’t it seem like there are fewer birds now than there were yesterday?”

“I don’t know.” Jeremy frowned. “Maybe. Did you think to count them as we checked them over?”

“No; you?”

“No. It didn’t really occur to me to do it. I mean, where are they going to go?”

Jeremy had a point. Still, something felt off.

“Maybe we should count them today,” I suggested. “You mentioned they were inventoried when they were placed in the pens. We can compare the numbers.”

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed.

“Have you seen Zak?” I wondered.

“He was talking to Margaret the last time I saw him. He mentioned something about taking a walk.”

I knew Zak was most likely just pumping Margaret for information, but I couldn’t completely suppress jealous Zoe from rearing her ugly head. Honestly, most of the time I feel like I’m a complete victim to my irrational emotions. In this instance, however, I made a decision to count turkeys with Jeremy and assume Zak was doing exactly what I’d asked him to do and not off flirting with Peggy’s very single daughter.

“We’re short thirty birds,” Jeremy confirmed several hours later.

“Coyotes?” I ventured a guess.

“Possible, but I doubt it. I was never more than hearing distance away and I never heard a ruckus. Besides, if a coyote had attacked, there would be evidence.”

By evidence I knew he meant blood, guts, and feathers.

“Poachers?” I guessed again.

“Maybe. Birds were missing from each of the enclosures, which seems to point to the fact that someone took them but hoped it wouldn’t be noticed. If coyotes were the culprit, they most likely would have attacked a single enclosure.”

“Should we tell someone?”

Jeremy thought about it. “I wouldn’t. Let’s just keep an eye on things to see if any more birds turn up missing. It looks like Zak is coming back. Why don’t you see what he found out and I’ll finish up here.”