Chapter 1
The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a pale glow over the turkey pen. Feathers ruffled as the birds settled in for the evening, their gentle clucks and gobbles filling the air.
“Did you hear the news?” Tom whispered, his voice carrying across the pen. “Gwendolyn’s been chosen for the mayor’s annual Thanksgiving dinner.”
Gasps and excited murmurs rippled through the flock.
Heather looked at Gwendolyn. “You don’t seem very happy about it.”
Gwendolyn flew up to the tree that grew in their pen and perched on the branch, her feathers ruffled. “I don’t want to be someone’s Thanksgiving dinner!”
The other turkeys gasped, their eyes wide. They flapped their wings and paced in the moonlight.
“Not be eaten?” Henrietta clucked. “Whoever heard of such a thing!”
“It’s our destiny,” Wilbur said. “Rodney feeds us all year for this.”
Tina fluttered up to join Gwendolyn, the branch dipping precariously under their combined weight.
“Well, I don’t want to be eaten either!” Tina said.
The turkeys erupted into a frenzy of squawks and flapping.
“This is madness!” Reginald puffed out his chest. “You can’t defy tradition.”
“Easy for you to say,” Gwendolyn retorted. “You’re all scrawny. I heard someone say I’ll fill out a platter nicely.” She shuddered.
Tina nodded. “We have to do something. I don’t want to end up as leftovers!”
The turkeys paced, their claws scratching the dirt. Some murmured in agreement, and others shook their heads.
The turkeys froze at the distant sound of footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves. Their eyes darted back and forth, searching the darkness beyond the pen.
“Someone’s coming!” Wilbur hissed, his voice trembling.
Panic rippled through the flock. More turkeys fluttered up to join Gwendolyn and Tina on the branch, their weight causing it to creak and groan in protest.
The door to the turkey pen squeaked open, the sound piercing the night air. The turkeys huddled together, their whispers urgent and fearful.
“Who is it?” Henrietta asked, her voice barely audible.
“I can’t tell,” Tom replied, squinting into the shadows at the dark figure.
The branch dipped precariously as more turkeys sought refuge in the tree, their claws scrabbling for purchase on the rough bark.
Suddenly, the lights on the porch snapped on, bathing the pen in a harsh glare. The turkeys blinked and squawked, momentarily blinded by the sudden illumination.
Rodney emerged from the house, his pajamas rumpled and his hair sticking up at odd angles. “Who’s there?” he yelled, his voice booming across the pen.
The turkeys’ hearts pounded in their chests as they watched as Rodney scanned the pen, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Can you see who it is?” Tom asked, his voice trembling.
The turkeys inched toward the end of the branch, their necks craning for a better look. But the other person remained just a dark shadow, their features obscured by the night.
Suddenly, the branch beneath them groaned, the wood splintering under their weight. The turkeys squawked in alarm, their wings flapping frantically as they tried to keep their balance.
With a sickening crack, the branch snapped and plummeted to the ground. It struck Rodney on the head with a dull thud, sending him sprawling into the mud.
Chaos erupted in the pen as the turkeys took flight, their wings beating the air in a frenzy. Feathers filled the air like a blizzard, obscuring Gwendolyn’s vision.
Through the swirling feathers, Gwendolyn caught a glimpse of the shadowy figure moving toward Rodney’s prone form. She strained to see what they were doing, but the flurry of activity made it impossible to discern their actions.
“Run!” a turkey yelled, his voice rising above the din. “Run for your lives!”
The turkeys surged toward the open door, their feet pounding the earth as they made their escape. Regina led the charge, her wings pumping as she fled into the woods.
Tina brought up the rear, her pace slowed by something caught on her foot. “Wait up!” she called, her voice breathless with exertion. “I got something stuck on my foot!”
But the others didn’t slow, their instinct for survival propelling them forward into the unknown dangers of the forest. Tina hobbled after them, her foot dragging in the dirt as she struggled to keep up.
Chapter 2
Lexy carefully arranged the last of her specialty Thanksgiving cookies in the glass bakery case at The Cup and Cake. The cookies were an assortment of fall-themed designs—plump pumpkins with curling vines, whimsical turkeys with colorful feathers, quaint pilgrim hats, and intricately detailed autumn leaves in hues of red, orange, and gold.
The bakery itself was adorned with festive decorations. A garland of faux fall foliage lined the window that overlooked the quaint Brooke Ridge Falls main street and the waterfall across the street. A cornucopia overflowing with gourds and mini pumpkins sat atop the counter, and a display of small white pumpkins sat next to the coffee station in the corner.
Lexy’s grandmother, Nans, and her friends—Ruth, Ida, and Helen—stood in front of the case, their eyes sparkling with delight as they surveyed the tantalizing display.
“Lexy, these cookies are almost too pretty to eat,” Nans said, peering into the case.
Ruth chuckled. “Almost but not quite. I’ll take a leaf, please.”
“And I’ll have a pilgrim hat and two turkeys,” Ida chimed in.
Helen gave Ida a raised-brow look indicating she thought Ida might be ordering a bit too much.
Ida shrugged. “Gotta have a snack for later.”
As Lexy pulled out their selections, the conversation turned to Thanksgiving dishes. Lexy and her homicide detective husband, Jack, were hosting a special Thanksgiving dinner for Nans and her friends this year.
“I’m making my famous green bean casserole,” Ruth announced proudly. “It’s a family recipe, passed down for generations.”
“I’ve got a pumpkin pie that’ll knock your socks off,” Ida countered. “Secret ingredient is a splash of bourbon.”
Nans raised an eyebrow. “In the pie, or do you drink it while making it?”
Ida laughed. “That’s my secret, and I’m not telling.”
Helen shook her head, smiling. “I’ll stick with my tried-and-true sweet potato casserole. Marshmallows on top, just the way my grandkids like it.”
“And I,” Nans said, “will be bringing my cranberry sauce. Made from scratch, of course.”
Lexy grinned as she handed each lady her bag of cookies. “Sounds like we’ve got quite the feast lined up. I can’t wait to taste everything.”
The jovial atmosphere in The Cup and Cake was suddenly disrupted when Harriet Granger burst through the door, her face flushed and her eyes wide.
“Have you heard the shocking news?” Harriet exclaimed, nearly out of breath.
“What news?” Lexy asked, setting down the box of cookies she was holding.
Harriet leaned against the counter, catching her breath. “It’s Rodney Hart. He’s dead!”
sized turkeys. In fact, one of them named Gwendolyn was so large that it was slated for the mayor’s annual Thanksgiving gala at the town hall.
“Are you sure?” Ruth asked, her hand covering her mouth in shock.
“That’s not all,” Harriet continued, lowering her voice. “His turkeys have escaped, including Gwendolyn.”
Nans furrowed her brow. “What happened? Tell us everything.”
Harriet leaned in, relishing the attention. ...
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