Roy McAfee asked. His stomach growling, he glanced up from the Saturday edition of The Cedar Cove Chronicle and waited for his wife’s answer. It seemed to him that Corrie had been in the kitchen longer than usual. “Leftovers.” Again? Corrie was an excellent cook but it was the same every Thanksgiving. She chose the largest fresh turkey the store had available and then they ate bird for weeks on end. Really, how much turkey could four people consume? And how many versions of turkey did one man have to eat? Not that Roy was complaining—not really. He’d enjoyed Thanksgiving, and having two of his three children with Corrie and him was special enough. “I’m making turkey pot pie,” she called from the kitchen. “It’ll be out of the oven in a few minutes.” “Okay.” “Mack will be joining us for dinner.” “Good.” Lately Roy and his son had come to an understanding. He’d had high expectations of his only son. Then, as a teenager, Mack had rebelled and they’d been at odds ever since.
