Page 1 of Talk Turkey To Me
Chapter One
Most people said their favorite holiday was Christmas, or maybe Halloween. There were a few who might cite others of course but in her twenty-five years of life, Lily Montcrief had never met anyone else who lay claim to the holiday that fell between those big two. She loved Thanksgiving, in all its messy, problematic, drama filled glory.
The idea of it was so simple. A day to give thanks. A day to gather with loved ones and enjoy a meal together. That was what the holiday meant to her and considering she was a cook who had been raised by a cook, she knew better than most that a good meal didn’t just fill a person’s belly. It could fill a person’s soul with renewed hope and happiness too.
That was the part Lily loved.
Her father had taught her that no matter how bad things were going, a good meal could fix it. He’d said the right combination of ingredients could bring pleasure to someone in pain, relief to someone grieving, and comfort to those in need. When she’d been a child, sitting on the counter at her father’s restaurant, she’d listened to him talk as though his recipes were secret potions, turning the whole process into magic for her.
For Lily, foodwasmagic and creating it for others, to help them feel or simply to fill their bellies, made her a magician.
So, of course, Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday. It was the holiday where everything was based around the meal. Turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes and pie, there was nothing better than the classics in her opinion and she couldn’t wait to get home and get her hands in some flour and start the celebration.
Cooking was in her blood. Her love for it had been passed down to her like a family heirloom. Being a chef had been her dream for as long as she could remember, but despite spending all of her time at the five star restaurant where she worked in New Orleans, she’d never felt further from her goal of running her own kitchen.
Nothing she ever did was good enough for the head chef where she worked. He verbally abused her and every other kitchen assistant daily. And when she’d had the nerve to make one of her recipes for him in an attempt to prove her value he’d called it boring, bland and beneath him. Then he’d changed out two ingredients and added it to the menu as if it was his own creation.
That had been the last straw for her. No chef worth his salt stole recipes. Added to her indignation was the fact that he’d refused to grant her vacation request for the fourth straight year, demanding that she stay on to help with the Thanksgiving rush. When she’d realized her own turkey dish was on the menu without him giving her any credit whatsoever, she’d taken off her apron and walked out.
Lily had gone straight home and packed her suitcase, gotten into her car and headed north towards Oklahoma. She had no idea if she would have a job when she got back but she assumed it was unlikely. Living in New Orleans was expensive andwithout a job it would be impossible to keep her apartment, but she told herself that was a worry for a different day.
A day after the holiday. Black Friday or maybe even Cyber Monday. It didn’t matter. Right now all she wanted to focus on was enjoying her favorite holiday with her family at home for the first time in three years.
As her beat up old Volkswagen passed the sign welcoming her back to Compass Creek, Oklahoma, she swore she could feel the tension inside of her release. The tiny town in middle of nowhere northeast Oklahoma would always be home to her no matter where she lived. She loved everything about it and she never would have left if her parents hadn’t insisted she go to college and get a degree, see the world and find herself.
Seven years ago she’d argued that she didn’t need a degree if she was going to take over the family restaurant but her mother, ever the schoolteacher, had insisted, overriding Lily’s father as well. She’d majored in business just to make them happy and by the time she graduated she’d decided to take them up on their offer to see the world. She’d traveled for a year and when she’d eventually found herself in New Orleans, with friends and the opportunity for a job at a first rate restaurant, she’d taken it.
She’d convinced herself it was what she wanted. The fancy restaurant in the cool city. The rooftop parties and weekends on the gulf. But deep down, she’d always known her heart wasn’t really in it, because her heart was here, waiting for her to come home to the life she was always meant to have.
Maybe, she decided as she paused at a four way stop that gave her a glimpse all the way down Main Street, at the little shops with their cute awnings and the park in the middle with the large white gazebo where she’d had her first kiss, just maybe, she’d talk her father into letting her join him in the kitchen at The Mont and then she wouldn’t have to worry about going back to New Orleans.
She turned down the side street and pulled her car into the small parking lot located behind the shops on Main. She had only called her parents an hour ago from the road to let them know she was coming for the holiday weekend after all and they’d wanted to ask her a dozen questions. She’d promised to tell them everything… but only after they stuffed her full of all her favorite items on the menu at The Mont. She knew they’d already be there waiting impatiently for her so she grabbed her purse off the passenger seat and didn’t even bother locking the doors on the old VW Bug as she hurried back onto Main and headed for the entrance to the family restaurant on the opposite corner.
As soon as she opened the oversized wood and glass framed door, the familiar scent of home hit her square in the chest. The Mont looked exactly the same as it had all of her life. Scuffed hardwood floors. Walls filled with colorful art, most of it originals made by local artists. An eclectic mix of tables and chairs in all sizes and shapes. It was warm and welcoming, like walking into a memory preserved in amber, and she felt tears form behind her eyes even before she caught sight of her parents at the nearby table number one, which was always reserved for their family dinners together.
Her father was already standing, arms open and moving towards her so she forced her wobbly legs to work and met him halfway, letting him envelope her in a hug. He had always been a big man, tall and thick with a barrel chest, and his arms were strong as he held her close. She hugged him back as she blinked the tears away and when he held her at arms length she was finally able to return his smile.
“My Lily girl.” His voice boomed, loud and proud, “I’m so glad you could make it home this year.”
“Me too, Dad.”
“You know you’ve got some explaining to do though, you’ve had your mother pacing with worry ever since you called.” His eyebrow tipped up and he opened his mouth as if he was preparing to ask her something but was interrupted.
“Well of course, I’m worried, Alan.” Lily’s mother pushed her way between them. “I’m a mother. It’s what I do.”
“Yes, dear.” Her father smirked but moved aside so her mother could pull her into an embrace as well.
“You should have told us when you got on the road.” She admonished and Lily sighed.
“So you could worry for ten hours instead of just one?”
“Don’t get smart with me young lady.” Dana Montcrief pulled back to study her face. “You look tired.”
“Gee, thanks Mom.”
“She just drove half a day to get here. How about we let her sit down before we give her the third degree?” Her father tugged her mother back towards the table. “After all, the food is getting cold.”
“You ordered without me?” Lily gaped as she followed them to the table and dropped her purse over the back of the seat she’d considered hers since before she was old enough for her feet to touch the ground.
