“No pumpkin pie?” Jenny King erupted. “We can’t have Thanksgiving dinner without pumpkin pie, Star!”
Jenny’s aunt burst into raucous laughter.
“The look on your face!” She chuckled merrily. “Of course there will be pumpkin pie, sweetie. I’m going to make my special whiskey infused pie with the maple cream. Count on it.”
The November sun was bright in the sky over the Atlantic Ocean. A light wind teased tendrils of Jenny’s hair and blew them around her face. Tourists strolled along the boardwalk and some hardy souls bobbed in the water, braving the cold.
The two women sat on the deck of the Boardwalk Café, planning their Thanksgiving menu. A motley assortment of rustic pumpkins were placed across the deck, an ode to the harvest season.
Jenny was looking forward to Thanksgiving in Pelican Cove. The small island town couldn’t be more different than her previous home in the suburbs of Washington DC. Jenny’s life had changed overnight when her husband, a hotshot lawyer, had dumped her for a younger model. She didn’t have many options as a newly divorced woman in her mid forties. Her aunt Star had offered her a lifeline.
Jenny moved to the remote island on the Eastern Shore of Virginia without any expectations. Truth be told, she had shuffled around in a daze for the first few months. Then her aunt had taken her to task. Jenny started working at the local café just to stay busy.
Star’s friend Petunia owned the café and she gave Jenny a free hand. The locals fell in love with the yummy treats Jenny dished up every day. Her fame was gradually spreading far and wide.
Jenny stood up and stretched.
“I need to check on the soup. Why don’t I make a fresh pot of coffee? The girls will be here soon.”
Jenny had barely taken a couple of steps when she halted in her tracks.
“Jenny King!” A short, skinny man with a shiny pate hurried along the boardwalk, waving his hands in the air. “Are you Jenny King?”
He clambered up the café steps and made a beeline for her.
Jenny caught her aunt’s eye and raised a brow in question. Star was looking equally mystified.
“I have a case for you.” The man pulled out a chair and sat down. “You’re my only hope.”
Jenny moved closer to her aunt and gave the man a sympathetic look.
“What case? I don’t understand.”
The man rubbed a hand over his glistening head and peered at her.
“You’re the detective everyone’s talking about, aren’t you? They are saying you’re better than the police.”
Jenny fought a blush.
“I just work at this café. Can I get you a muffin?”
“I’ve seen you somewhere.” Star eyed the man curiously. “Wait a minute! You’re that chicken guy. I remember seeing your face on all those billboards, way back when. It haunted me for years.”
The man had pulled out a couple of paper napkins from a dispenser. He nodded at Star and wiped the sheen of sweat that had formed on his head.
“Where are my manners? I’m Harrison Webster, of course. The Prince of Pelican Cove Poultry, popularly known as the Poultry Prince. ...
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