LITMIR.BIZ

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old friends and shared a long list of local suppliers, including Chef Pierre, who on his good days supplied amazing French desserts and bread products. Like Aunt Amelia, Ryan’s grandfather was a huge supporter of local commerce and never thought of his buddy’s food truck as competition. That’s the way things were done on the small barrier island.

      “Hi Sam, can I please have two of your Cuban sandwich plates with Cajun sweet potatoes fries?” The best item to order were Sam’s crab cakes, but she knew to avoid shellfish when it came to Julian. After last night’s dinner, Dorian had pulled Liz aside and apologized for the scene in the dining room, explaining that her fiancé was allergic to shellfish, not fish, and he’d asked her to apologize for him. Doubtful, Liz had thought. She just hoped Dorian knew what she was getting into. Maybe she did, as in her nightmare. Liz wondered if Dorian was having other ominous premonitions about her intended that she was keeping to herself, letting her heart lead the way instead of trusting her psychic powers. Though not a medium, Liz had done the same thing with her ex, Travis. And look where that had gotten her.

      “Coming right up, Liz.” At the word Liz, Sam expelled a whistle through the gap between his two front teeth. Sam reminded her of Aunt Amelia’s Howdy Doody ventriloquist doll replica that Kate had found on one her antiquing excursions. Kate had given it to Aunt Amelia, knowing that her first foray into television acting was in 1960 on the final episode of the Howdy Doody Show. In Liz’s opinion, it wasn’t exactly an acting debut, because her great-aunt’s job had been to hold the strings for the show’s Flub-A-Dub puppet.

      As Aunt Amelia had explained to Kate and Liz, Flub-A-Dub was a mixture of eight animals. It had a cocker spaniel’s ears, a raccoon’s tail, a dachshund’s body, a duck’s head, a giraffe’s neck, a seal’s flippers and a cat’s whiskers. Kate had said, “That’s only seven animals.” Aunt Amelia had answered, “I almost forgot, and an elephant’s memory.” Then she’d pulled out a photo of herself holding Flub-A-Dub, autographed by Buffalo Bob Smith, the actor who did all the puppet’s voices.

      At the thought of Bobs, Liz remembered the irritating fact that whenever Barnacle Bob heard the words, Howdy Doody, he’d start repeating, “Say, kids, what time is it? It’s Howdy Doody…. Time,” then he’d break into a macaw’s version of the show’s theme song, “It’s Howdy Doody time, it’s Howdy Doody time…” ad nauseum. And instead of chastising the dirty bird, Aunt Amelia would always roar with laughter. Liz smiled at the memory.

      Sam’s son came back to the window and handed Liz two paper plates of food. He was an exact replica of his father, with the same red hair, wide nose covered in freckles and large ears, along with the same space between his teeth. Only in his case, his mouth was filled with braces and a retainer. She took the plates then held them up to him. He leaned out the window holding a plastic squeeze bottle filled with a spicy, pale peach mango ketchup and drizzled it over the sweet potato fries. “Dad said the food’s on the house because your father did such a great job getting his permits cleared with the town.”

      “Tell him I said thank you.” Her father had struck again, always helping the locals. Sometimes his clients would pay it forward in produce, seafood, and free repairs when things needed fixing at the almost hundred-year-old hotel—an almost constant occurrence.

      On her way to Dorian’s tent, she saw Julian standing in the shadow of an oak tree. Hanging moss hid the person he was talking to, or more succinctly, yelling at. Julian’s face was controlled but his hands were clenched in fists. There was something attractive about Julian’s long light brown hair that today fell to his shoulders. Even from a distance his arctic-blue eyes drew you to his handsome face.

      Balancing a plate in each hand she took a detour behind the tents to get closer to the action. When she reached the back of Sirens by the Sea’s tent, she inched up to a nearby palm and hid behind it. She spotted Garrett, Dorian’s financial advisor. He must be the person that had Julian so riled up.

      Garrett took a step toward Julian, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. “All you have to do is sign, buddy boy. Show that you really care and you’re not marrying her for her money. I’ve been looking into your financial affairs at the SWS and things look pretty sketchy. Especially when it comes to your Sunshine miracle water. I’ll keep those details to myself if you sign. Dorian and her children won’t hear a peep from me.”

      “I’m not your ‘buddy boy,’ and I certainly won’t be blackmailed by you.” Julian raised his closed fist and brought it up to Garrett’s chin.

      Garrett had to be about five inches taller and probably weighed at least fifty pounds more. He was solid like the oak he stood next to.

      Julian continued in a calmer voice, “Dorian and I love each other. Do what you will, but I also have something to parley back at you. It seems Dorian and I have discussed her future and things are looking promising that I might take over your lackluster role as financial advisor and agent. I’ve had my own accountant looking into last year’s financials. The numbers just don’t seem to jive, buddy boy.”

      “That’s ridiculous!” Garrett shouted, “I’ve never mismanaged a penny. I’ve been with her for almost thirty years and she’s had more than enough money to spend as she wishes.”

      “I suppose you okayed the money to open her loser son’s restaurant. If that’s your idea of a good investment, you better get with the times.”

      “Oh, I see where you’re going with this. You want Dorian to sink more money into that hocus-pocus medicine man water you’re peddling. You don’t give your fiancée enough credit, Mr. Warlock. Oh, I forgot you’re a white witch not a warlock. Same evil practices I’m sure. Just white washing your title doesn’t change the things I’ve heard about your little operation. Whatever spell you’ve put on Dorian, it didn’t work when it came to the water, did it? She has good business sense and nixed your expansion plans. Dorian told me you’re a self-made man with only a high school diploma. Maybe you should sign up for junior college, take a few business classes. Of course, it would be years before you could earn an MBA like I have, not to mention passing your CPA exams.”

      Liz watched Julian’s face turn from rosy pink to burning red. He didn’t even budge when Garrett bent down and gave him a light push on the shoulder.

      “Don’t you touch me!” Julian put both hands on Garrett’s wide chest and pushed. Nothing happened.

      Garrett laughed. Even though he was decades older than Julian, his red hair and solid body reminded Liz of a Viking ready for battle. “You’ll have to do better than that, buddy boy,” he spat.

      It was then that Ryan’s dog, Blackbeard came barreling toward her. As if in slow motion, she watched the huge mutt stop dead center in front of her, bark, then jump up and grab one of the plates from her hand and carry it off between his teeth. “Come back with that, you little scamp!” she shouted. Both men turned toward her as she watched Blackbeard drop the plate and almost inhale the sandwich and fries in under five seconds. Julian scowled and Garrett grinned.

      She had no choice but to lie as she walked up to them, holding the remaining plate in front of her. “Mr. Rhodes, Dorian sent me to deliver you some lunch. Cuban sandwiches.” Then she chattered on about the Mystical Mermaid Festival and the story of Meribel, until both men looked bored. At least she’d diffused the situation.

      Finally, Julian said, more like demanded, “Bring my food to Dorian’s tent. We’ll eat together. I have something important to discuss with her that won’t wait.” Then he fixed his gaze on Garrett, “Don’t forget to pay this bill that Dorian signed off on. He reached in the pocket of his pants and fished out a folded piece of paper, then stuffed it into Garrett’s free hand. Garrett’s other hand held what Liz assumed was a prenuptial agreement.

      Through gritted teeth, Garrett said, “I think I’ll ask her myself. I wouldn’t put it past you to forge her signature.” Realizing he had an audience, Garrett turned to Liz. “I’d love to get some local food. Point me in the right direction.”

      “Island Eats food truck. It’s across from Dorian’s tent. Tell him Liz sent you.”

      “Thank

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