“You’re welcome, Bear,” she replied.
His face lit up when he saw what was inside. “Po’ Boys.”
“Really?” Cookie said, unwrapping hers as Maris did the same.
Ruth “Cookie” Calderon was a spry and petite seventy-year old. Aunt Glenda’s best friend, she’d been living and cooking at the B&B for decades. Her salt and pepper hair—though mostly salt now—fell straight and was shoulder length. As she regarded her sandwich, her dark eyes glimmered. She looked down at her food with a critical eye that made Maris pause.
“This must be a new menu item,” the chef said.
Though Bear had picked up his sandwich and was poised to take a bite, he paused as well.
“It is,” Maris said, watching the diminutive woman turn the opened wrapper, slowly spinning the sandwich in place.
“Good presentation,” Cookie said.
Barbecued jumbo shrimp with a nice helping of smoky sauce was cradled on pillowy soft New Orleans-style French rolls with paper thin crusts. Thin-sliced heirloom tomatoes were layered on the shrimp, and Delia’s house slaw topped the tomatoes.
The chef picked it up. “Very fresh bread,” she said nodding. “More important to a sandwich than most people realize. But the real test?”
She took a bite—not from the end and not from the middle, but somewhere in-between.
Maris exchanged a look with Bear, as Cookie slowly chewed.
Suddenly Cookie bobbed her head, and made the “Mmmm” sound that signaled something delicious. She set the sandwich down and gave them an emphatic okay sign.
Bear immediately took a bite, but Maris took a moment to breathe a little sigh of relief. She’d never known Delia or Eugene to serve anything but the freshest and best. But even they might be able to take a misstep with a new item. It was odd how the individual ingredients in a dish could be excellent, and yet the combination was off. As she took her first bite though, Maris knew they had another winner on their hands.
The bread was so soft as to be almost non-existent. Instead, it was the taste of the crispy shrimp that really came through. A touch of spice from the thick sauce, along with the smoke of the BBQ, helped to highlight the seafood. The cool and sweet tomato was a great compliment. But finally, it was the house slaw that provided that slight bit of crunchy texture that filled the mouth perfectly. Maris couldn’t help but bob her head too. The cole slaw was great on its own—a vibrant combination of green and red cabbage with shredded carrots, all enveloped in just a thin coating of dressing—but on the sandwich it was genius.
“Do you taste the Dijon mustard and celery seed in the slaw?” Cookie asked, smiling. “Very inventive.”
Maris covered her mouth with one hand. “I’d never have thought of putting shrimp in a sandwich.”
Bear wiped his mouth and beard with a napkin. “Very good,” he declared quickly, before taking another bite.
For some moments, the three of them simply enjoyed their food outside in the glorious weather. Brilliant sunshine rained down on Cookie’s herb garden, and poured into the greenhouse beyond it. A light briny breeze from the bay gently stirred the plants as well as providing some relief from the midday heat.
“What are you working on today, Bear?” Cookie asked.
He was just opening his second sandwich and, for a moment, Maris wondered if she shouldn’t have got him three. His fingers paused, and he looked at the chef. “Time to take care of the Old Girl’s optic house.” When he looked to the top of the lighthouse, Cookie and Maris did the same. “I need to pack some grease into the ball bearings.”
Maris looked at him. “Ball bearings?”
“The mechanism that turns the fresnel lens,” he said, and made a small circling motion with his finger. “At the center of the base are the ball bearings that allow it to spin.”
Of course, Maris thought. It’d never occurred to her what it actually took to make the beam turn. As she continued to gaze up at it, she wondered what else she didn’t know about the Old Girl.
“You have to grease it?” Cookie asked, sandwich in hand.
Bear nodded his big head. “It’s not sealed.” He paused and, when there seemed to be no more questions, he dug into his next sandwich.
With still half of her sandwich remaining, Cookie put it down and wrapped it back up. “This will be good later.”
Though Maris could easily have eaten the whole thing, she did as the thinner and healthier chef did—though with some disappointment.
“How was town?” the chef asked, as she picked up her lemonade.
“Incredibly busy,” Maris said, wrapping the Po’ Boy. “And a little strange.”
“Oh?” Cookie said. “The busy I understand, since it’s festival time. But the strange?”
Maris recounted the two missing objects from the two different owners.
Cookie smirked a little. “A crystal ball, eh?” She nodded. “I’d have put him down as an astrologer with all his knowledge of the stars and such. Very interesting.”
“But someone stole it?” Bear asked.
He’d finished both his sandwiches and had been sitting back, but now leaned forward.
Maris nodded. “According to Howard, it’s always in the same spot and now it’s nowhere to be found.”
“Same with Eugene’s credit card reader?” Cookie asked.
“Yep,” Maris replied. “It’s always behind the hostess podium.” She picked up her lemonade. “I’ve seen him take it from there a dozen times at least.” She took a tart sip. “So that makes two.”
“Three,” Bear said. Maris and Cookie both whipped their heads around to stare at him. “My honey.”
“Oh no,” Cookie exclaimed. “From the hive?”
Bear shook his head quickly. “No. The bees wouldn’t permit it. I’m the only one allowed.” He gazed down at the deck. “I had a jar in my truck.” He ducked his head sheepishly. “I was bringing
