He’d put it in the brine solution yesterday. He remembered helping his mother with holiday turkeys. She used to squeal like a girl when he pulled the neck out of the cavity for her. It’s so gross, she’d cry.
There had been no one around yesterday when he’d prepped the bird.
He realized that he’d missed Thanksgiving with his mom last year. He wished more than anything he could go back in time. He’d have come down the day before Thanksgiving and prepped the bird for his mom. He’d have hung out in the kitchen and helped with the rest of the cooking.
But there were no do-overs.
Maybe that’s why he was still in Cupid Falls. He wanted to do things right with Kennedy and the baby the first time around.
He glanced at the plate of oatmeal cookies Kennedy had left on his porch.
There was no note. Nothing to indicate they were from her. But the minute he’d opened the plastic container he’d known.
