Free 3.5 Roasted in Christmas River by Meg Muldoon

red with anger, but I tried not to blow my top.
    Instead, I redirected the conversation where I wanted it to go.
    “So that turkey,” I continued, as if I hadn’t heard what she’d just said. “You get it from the grocery store, or did you get it from somewhere else?”
    I looked directly at Hunter when I said it, raising an eyebrow.
    The kid was stone-faced.
    Meredith let out an aggravated sigh.
    “I’m in a hurry. Do you need me to spell it out for you? H-U-R-R…”
    She reached for the paper bag of pies, but I pulled it toward me before her sharp manicured nails could snatch it.  
    “I know how it’s spelled,” I said, between gritted teeth. “I also know that someone’s missing a turkey this Thanksgiving, someone who your son wronged. And I’m just wondering if you know anything about what happened to this turkey.”
    She glanced over at Hunter, whose steely expression had soured into a nasty one. Then she looked back at me.
    I saw the resemblance between the two as Meredith’s expression turned downright nasty.
    “You’re a lunatic, Cinnamon,” she said. “Now give me those pies or we’re going to have a serious problem.”
    “You’re saying that you don’t know Deb Dulany?” I asked.  
    I hadn’t wanted to make this a big deal. In fact, I had wanted to ask her tactfully if she knew anything about a turkey theft in Deb’s neighborhood.
    But here she was, pushing me into realms of rudeness that I didn’t much care to venture into.  
    “Oh, I know her,” Meredith said, her eyes cold as ice. “I know her all right.”
    “Do you know anything about what happened to their turkey, Meredith?” I asked.
    Hunter scoffed loudly, and I thought Meredith’s eyes might just bulge out of her head.
    “Give me those pies,” she said again. “Or so help me, I’ll walk right out of here.”
    “Do you?” I said again.
    “She’s crazy, mom,” Hunter said. “Crazier than a—”
    “Did that accident the other night knock something loose?” Meredith interrupted. “Because I think you’ve lost your mind, Cinnamon. You must be clear out of that little bitty pea brain of yours.”
    She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and then leaned toward me.
    “I didn’t do it. And Hunter couldn’t have taken that turkey,” she said in a low voice. “He’s been grounded all week. But you know, that news about the Dulany turkey just made my day. That backstabbing witch deserves a lot worse, and so does that son of hers. Her and those bratty kids of hers ain’t nothing but pure white tras—”
    I pushed the credit card back toward her abruptly.
    She could say all she wanted about me and about Deb.
    But pulling Frankie and his sister into it, calling them white trash… now that was something I wouldn’t stand for.
    Not in my shop.   
    “You and Hunter should leave now, Meredith,” I said, clutching the bag of pies to my chest and narrowing my eyes at her.
    Meredith’s face turned bright red.
    “Cinnamon, you—”
    “You oughta treat people better, Meredith. You really should.”  
    She stared at me with a kind of rage that could have set whole buildings on fire.
    But I could take it.
    Maybe it was cruel to turn someone away on Thanksgiving. But someone like Meredith didn’t know the meaning of Thanksgiving anyway.
    She just knew how to be mean-spirited, gossipy, and cruel.   
    She balled her hands up into fists at her side.
    “So help me God, Cinnamon, if you don’t give me those pies, I’ll—”
    I stomped in the back, taking my pies with me. I grabbed something from the cupboard and came back out to the front.
    She was still steaming there.
    “Here,” I said, tossing her a bag of pecans. “That’s enough to get you started.”
    “You think you can get away with this,” she said in a low, barely-controlled voice. “But you can’t. I’m going to tell everyone in my circle what you did here today, Cinnamon. And I know people. You just watch your Yelp and Facebook