“Just as well, considering everything that’s happening. I heard about the pub. How is your husband?”
After telling him that Bill was recovering from his injuries, Lucy asked if he had any ideas as to who might have torched the pub.
“I heard they arrested two guys, but I haven’t seen them. They’ve been keeping me kind of separate from the others. I think it’s because I’m charged with such a serious crime.”
“How are they treating you?” asked Lucy.
“I don’t have any complaints. The guards seem pretty decent. Of course, I haven’t been convicted. I’m still legally innocent. I’ve got a good lawyer and I’m hoping to get out on bail, though I know it’s a long shot.”
“You seem to be taking all this remarkably well,” said Lucy, struck by his attitude.
“Well, I know I’m innocent. I didn’t kill Ed Franklin, and I’ve got faith in the justice system. Plus, I’ve got a lot of advantages most people accused of crimes don’t have. I’ve got money and can afford a good lawyer, I’ve got family and friends who support me and believe in my innocence, and I’ve got connections to influential people.” He gave her an apologetic shrug. “The system might be rigged, but it’s kind of rigged in my favor.”
Lucy couldn’t help smiling. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“I’m a glass-half-full sorta guy. I doubt I’ll be brought to trial. Dad’s got a private investigator who is working with the lawyer, and I’m sure they’ll turn up something. And Dad’s already working on winning over public opinion. He’s planning a big Thanksgiving dinner for the entire town.”
“That’s a really good idea,” said Lucy. “But how’s he going to pull it off?”
“Not problem. Trust me. If he says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.” Matt paused. “I only hope I get out of here, so I can go.” He licked his lips. “I don’t want to miss my dad’s turkey tacos.”
CHAPTER 19
Lucy had no sooner walked through the door at the Pennysaver before Ted sent her right back out on assignment. “Pam tells me the ladies at the Community Church have volunteered to help Rey with this Mexican Thanksgiving Feast and she wants me to run a story. Can you go over there and see what’s cooking?”
Phyllis, dressed from head to toe in a blaze of autumnal orange, rolled her eyes and groaned at the pun. “I sense a headline: A Recipe for Reconciliation? Cooking Up Cooperation? Stirring Up a Better World?”
“Those are a good start,” said Ted in all seriousness, “but they need work.”
“I was joking,” protested Phyllis, again rolling her eyes. “You know”—she turned to Lucy—“he has absolutely no sense of humor.”
“Oh, I do, believe me,” said Ted. “How else do you think I manage to put up with you two?”
“Well, I’m outta here,” said Lucy. “I’ll leave you guys to your verbal sparring.” She was at the door when the perfect headline came to her. “How about A Feast for the Season?”
* * *
When she reached the church, she was encouraged to see the parking lot was almost full, and when she stepped inside the kitchen, she was met with a wave of delicious odors and a cheerful bustling atmosphere. Rey was clearly in charge, passing out recipe cards and answering questions from cooks who were unfamiliar with the ingredients and techniques. Luisa was there, too, giving a hand.
“You’re sure this sausage goes in the pumpkin soup?” asked Toni Williams, sounding very doubtful. “It’s very spicy.”
“That’s chorizo. It’s delicious,” replied Rey.
“And how exactly do I cut this thing up?” asked Betsy Coolidge, holding up a mango as if it was a hand grenade about to go off.
“I’ll show you,” said Luisa, grabbing a paring knife. “It’s going to make the most delicious mango salsa.”
Lucy snapped a few photos of the volunteers, then approached Rey for a brief interview. “What’s on the menu?”
“Oh, my goodness, everything but the kitchen sink,” he said. “We’ll start with chorizo pumpkin soup, move on to turkey tacos and enchiladas, roast stuffed pork, a variety of salsas, and for dessert, we’ll have flan, bread pudding, and traditional pies like pumpkin and apple. How does that sound?”
“It sounds delicious,” said Lucy. “Am I invited?”
“Everybody’s invited,” said Rey with a big smile. “It struck me, when I realized Matt wouldn’t be able to come home for our family feast, that there are a lot of people who are in similar situations—people who’ve lost loved ones, people who are separated from their families by long distances, old folks who’ve outlived their friends. I thought it would be nice to do something for them, give them an opportunity to enjoy a delicious meal along with good fellowship. We’ll even have some music and dancing afterwards so people can burn off some calories.”
“That sounds great,” said Lucy, who recognized herself in Rey’s description. “You can count on me and Bill. The kids are all away this year and it’s just the two of us.”
“Great. I’ll see you on Thanksgiving,” Rey said, turning his attention to Angie DiBello who had a couple prickly pear paddles in her hands and a puzzled expression on her face.
Lucy didn’t want to leave without saying hi to Pam, and spotted her and Rachel in a far corner of the large hall. The two were unpacking groceries from a number of cardboard boxes and arranging them on a long table where the cooks could find them.
“Thanks for coming, Lucy,” said Pam, as Lucy approached them. “Time is short, Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and we need to get the word out so people will come.”
“Look at all this food,” said Rachel, setting two huge cloth bags of corn meal on the table. “Rey must have spent a fortune on this stuff.”
“Where did it all come from?” asked Lucy, who knew that Marzetti’s IGA did not carry prickly pears, Mexican chocolate, and chorizo, or many of the other items she saw on the table.
“He had it trucked in from some
