The Bistro at Holiday Bay: Witnessed and Delivered

Book 10: Bistro at Holiday Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries; Culinary Cozy Mysteries; Amateur Sleuth; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Summer is winding down in Holiday Bay, and Shelby and the Bistro crew are preparing for one of the town's biggest events of the season, the annual Lobsterfest Celebration. Everyone is involved in the celebration until the Labor Day festivities come to a halt when one of the Bistro's favorite customers is found dead in his home.

With only a handful of suspects to consider, Bistro employee Calliope Rosenthall, Callie to her friends, appears to top the list.

In spite of the fact that Callie seems to have been the only one with the opportunity to have carried out the murder in the manner it was executed, Shelby isn't convinced Callie is the killer.

Certain her friend is innocent, she begins digging into the victim's life, discovering secrets that suggest that more than one person had reason to want the man dead.

As Shelby searches for the truth, she also joins her sister Sage in Holiday Bay's Adopt-a-Program community project, cheers Dawson and his band as they compete for the coveted Battle of the Bands trophy, and watches Cambria pull out all the stops in hopes of earning the blue ribbon at the annual lobster cook-off.

Release date: August 18, 2026

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Sample

Chapter 1

Sitting cross-legged on the rooftop deck overlooking the crystal-clear sea, I closed my eyes
and inhaled slowly. Allowing my mind to wander freely as the warm summer breeze brushed
through my curly auburn hair, I focused on my breath, pausing to observe, but not judge, the
images that filtered across my consciousness. The new autumn menu that I still needed to
proofread and approve. The ever-growing stack of paperwork threatening to completely envelop
my desk. The leaky faucet in the ladies’ room I’d meant to ask Dawson to repair but had
forgotten about.
Ordinary tasks denoting an ordinary life.
As the weight of my body melted into the earth two stories beneath me, the heaviness of my
thoughts melted into the emptiness. I welcomed the light that could be found in the void. As I
welcomed the gentle warmth of air fluttering across my face, I was aware of the roots that
anchored me to this realm.
Allowing the stressors in my life to fade, I focused on the sounds that naturally flowed into
my meditative state. The call of the gulls overhead. The rhythm of waves gently folding onto the
sandy beach. The regular hum of the lobster boats as they made their way through the channel
connecting the commercial marina to the open sea.
“Shelby.”
Startled by the unexpected interruption, I struggled to maintain my state of relaxation.
“Are you sleeping?” one of the Bistro at Holiday Bay’s waitresses and my backup bartender,
Nikki Peyton, asked.
“Meditating.”
I didn’t expand on that, hoping Nikki would take the hint and go away, but apparently, she
chose to join me while she waited. I didn’t speak, nor did she, but I was aware of the sound of a
chair sliding across the decking of the not yet open rooftop bar, where I’d chosen to experience
the fifteen minutes of mindfulness I’d vowed to complete daily.

“What are we meditating about?” Nikki whispered once she’d settled in next to me.
“We aren’t meditating about anything,” I answered without opening my eyes. “We’re simply
listening.”
“Got it.”
I tried to regain the weightlessness I’d lost with Nikki’s arrival by setting an intention to
focus, once again, on my breath.
“What are we listening to?” Nikki asked after less than a minute.
Again, I answered without opening my eyes. “Whatever you hear. The waves on the beach,
or the gulls overhead. Really anything your mind notices as you allow it to drift where it may.”
“Okay.”
I tried, once again, to return to my meditative state as Nikki fidgeted around next to me. I
could hear her scoot her chair slightly to the left, only to return it to its original location a few
seconds later. I loved Nikki like a sister, but she was a restless sort of person, which didn’t make
for an ideal meditation companion. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to reconnect
with my inner voice, I finally opened my eyes.
“Are we done?”
I turned my head and looked at Nikki, who was staring at me with a look of eager
impatience. “We’re done.” Once again, I looked out at the deep blue sea as the peace that was
found in a meditative moment gave way to an ordinary moment in everyday life. “Was there
something you wanted me to help you with?”
“I just wanted to let you know that Kennedy is here.”
“Here? As in right here in this building?”
Kennedy Swanson, a good friend, had been my dining room manager before deciding to
move to the small town of Ashton Falls so her daughter, Addy, a certifiable genius, could attend
the top school for gifted minors in the country.
“She’s in the bar talking to Dawson.” Nikki referred to Dawson Westwood, my live-in
boyfriend, business partner, bartender, and bar manager.
I unfolded my legs and stood up. “How long has Kennedy been here?”
“Not long.” Nikki stood up next to me. “I came up to get you first thing after I got her settled
in the bar with Dawson.”
I turned and hurried toward the stairs that would take me from the third-story rooftop bar to
the Bistro’s first floor, which housed the main dining room and bar. I spoke to Kennedy on the
phone from time to time, but it had been a year since I’d seen her in person.
“Is Addy with her?” I asked Nikki, who trotted down the stairs behind me.
“Not today. I guess Addy went to the inn to visit with Annabelle.”
Annabelle Cole lived in the remodeled carriage house at the Inn at Holiday Bay with her
uncle, Jeremy Slater, his wife, Mylie, and their son, Danny. Addy and Annabelle had been good

friends before Addy moved to pursue her education, so I wasn’t surprised to hear that the girls
had wanted to hang out together while Addy was visiting.
Kennedy, who had been chatting with Dawson, my chef and business partner, Amy Hogan,
and Amy’s sous chef, Cambria Collins, jumped up and approached me the minute I walked into
the bar. I wrapped her in a welcoming hug.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“It was a last-minute thing,” Kennedy responded to my query as Amy and Cambria scooted
back toward the kitchen. “Reagan came to Ashton Falls to visit, and she made a comment about
Addy and me coming with her as she was packing to leave to return to Holiday Bay.” She
referred to her sister, Reagan Swanson. “Addy’s off school until the week after next and really
wanted to come. It’ll be a short trip, but Zak said he was fine with me taking a week off to visit
with family.
Zak Zimmerman, along with his wife, Zoe, was the founder of Zimmerman Academy. He
was Kennedy’s boss.
I pulled Kennedy in for another hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too.” She hugged me back.
“The Bistro’s going to open in about fifteen minutes and, with Lobsterfest kicking off, we’ll
likely be slammed until close, but I want to take some time for us to talk.”
Lobsterfest, a five-day celebration over Labor Day weekend, was an annual event regionally
known for its seaside charm and nonstop fun. Along with lobster, served every way imaginable,
the festival featured a lively cook-off, a bustling carnival, a colorful craft fair, and a toe-tapping
band showdown.
“I forgot that Lobsterfest was this weekend. Addy’s going to be so excited that we’re in town
for the festival. Will the Bistro be participating in any of the events?”
“Cambria’s planning to participate in the Battle of the Chefs cook-off on Saturday and
Sunday, and Dawson entered the newly formed band he’s a member of in the Battle of the Bands
showdown on Saturday, but the Bistro isn’t planning to participate beyond that. We talked about
having a presence in the food court, but we’re already so busy during the summer that we didn’t
think we’d be able to spare the employees to staff it.”
“Reagan mentioned that the Bistro has been doing really well. I’m so happy to hear that.”
I looked around at the currently empty space and the employees as they bustled about getting
things ready for opening. We only had one more weekend to go, and then we’d begin to ease into
the much slower pace of autumn. “We’ve appreciated the steady summer business, of course, but
I have been worried that with the staff shortage, those who showed up every day were going to
burn out before we finally wished summer a fond adieu.”
“When I worked here, a lot of our waitstaff had to take a second job to make ends meet. I
think you’ll find that most of the staff are happy to have steady work for the summer.”
“I guess that’s true, and we have been closed on Mondays during the summer, which has
given everyone at least one day off. Still, I’ll be glad when we return to our fall schedule. Being
closed on both Sundays and Mondays gives everyone a chance to really relax.”

Kennedy looked around the room. “I love my job, and being able to work at Addy’s school
has meant so much to me, but there are times when I really miss this place.”
“And we miss you,” I assured her. “If you can stay for lunch, I’ll reserve a table on the
rooftop for us.”
“I’d really love to have lunch with you, but I promised Reagan that I’d go to lunch with her
today. She wanted me to see her new office, so I agreed to meet her there. I’m free for lunch
tomorrow, though.”
“Okay. Tomorrow it is then. I can’t wait to catch up.”
“Neither can I. I have so much to tell you.”
Kennedy left to meet her sister just as staff opened the doors at precisely eleven o’clock and
the first wave of diners filed in. While we’d decided that, other than Cambria participating in the
Battle of the Chefs cook-off and Dawson participating in the Battle of the Bands showdown, the
Bistro would pass on taking an active role in the festivities this week, we planned to offer lobster
food specials and lobster-themed drinks during the five-day event.
Today, Amy had lobster rolls on special, which were always popular, even when they weren’t
offered at a deep discount. Amy had tripled her lobster order for the weekend, with fresh meat to
be delivered daily.
“The guys and I are getting together at our house for band practice tonight,” Dawson
informed me after I wandered over to the bar to say hi. “I’m going to cut out of here early, but I
talked to Nikki, and she’s going to cover for me. Dillon will be here tonight as well.”
Dillon Commodore was our summer season bartender, a college student working on his
master’s degree who would be leaving to return to school the weekend after Labor Day.
“What time are the guys coming by?” By guys, I was referring to band members, county
detective Colt Wilder, contractor Lonnie Parker, and interim middle school principal Sully
Sullivan.
“Seven. We’ll likely practice until ten. We want to be ready for the showdown on Saturday.”
I was happy to see Dawson return to his music. When I’d first met him, he’d been a former
NSA member who’d quit his government job to pursue his musical career only to end up taking a
job as a bartender to support his art. At some point along the way, he’d transitioned from full-
time musician and part-time bartender to a full-time bartender, bar manager, and business owner
who rarely spent any time with his music. Dawson seemed happy with his life, and our life
together, but I knew how much music had once meant to him. I was happy to see him being
enthusiastic about spending time in the garage, which he’d converted to a soundproof studio.
“Beck was in earlier,” Dawson informed me, changing the subject.
Beck Cage was a retired homicide detective from Boston who’d opened his own PI firm and
used a booth at the back of the bar to meet with clients and conduct business. He often worked
with both Dawson and Colt on more complex cases, and the men had talked about opening an
office together, but that was before Colt was officially offered a job as a county detective, so the
idea may have fizzled out. Beck liked to hang out in the bar during the slow season, but once the
busy days of summer arrived, he tended to spend less time in his booth and more time at home.

“Does he have a new case?”
“I’m not sure. Beck spent thirty minutes talking to a woman who I’m sure I’ve seen around
town but couldn’t quite place. I was going to ask him about it once the woman left, but I got tied
up with the vodka distributor, and by the time I was done, Beck had already headed out.”
“I guess you can call him and ask him about it.”
Dawson shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. If it’s a new case and Beck needs my help, I’m sure
he’ll ask.”
I glanced at the chalkboard where Dawson recorded the daily food and drink specials.
“Lobster Trap. I love the name, but what is that exactly?”
“It’s a cranberry margarita with a sugared rim. The thing that denotes it as a lobster special is
this.” Dawson held out a red gummy lobster.
“Do you put that in the drink?”
Dawson nodded. “It’s a fun garnish, and I make sure everyone knows it’s there, so they can
remove it before drinking the margarita if they want to.”
One of my favorite things about the constant parade of seasonal activities sponsored by the
town and the Bistro was the fun drinks Dawson and Nikki always came up with.
A large group came into the bar looking for Lobster Traps, so I headed upstairs to the kitchen
to check in with Amy and Cambria. I admired and appreciated every single member of my staff
for all the hours they worked during the peak summer season; however, I really admired the way
Amy and Cambria were able to continue to prepare quality meals even after spending hours in a
hot kitchen. We’d increased our kitchen support staff by two for the summer, which both chefs
assured me made all the difference, but when it came right down to it, Amy and Cambria, who
were on the front lines, were usually the first to arrive and some of the last to leave each day.
“How’s everything going?” I asked as Amy placed a completed order in the dumbwaiter for
delivery to the rooftop. When we’d remodeled the Bistro, we’d expanded the dining area and bar
on the main floor, moved the kitchen to the second floor, and added a second bar on the rooftop.
With the third-story rooftop bar’s popularity in the summer, this created a potentially
cumbersome situation since all the food was prepared on the building’s second floor, but served
and eaten on either the first or third floor. To save our waitstaff from running up and down the
stairs all day, we installed a dumbwaiter that moves food from the second-floor kitchen to the
first floor or up to the third floor without needing a staff member to carry it.
“Busy, but good. The lobster rolls are selling even better than I anticipated. I called one of the
guys I know from the fish market, and they’re going to bring me a midday order to get me
through until close, and then they’ll double my morning order tomorrow.”
“What if we end up with less interest in lobster tomorrow? It could just be that since today is
the first day of Lobsterfest, everyone wants to try the lobster.”
“If we end up with extra lobster, I’ll make lobster bisque and freeze it for another day.”
It seemed that Amy had things under control. I knew she would, but I still liked to check in
with my staff. Amy was a co-owner, along with Dawson and me, so I knew she understood the
importance of watching the bottom line while maintaining our reputation.

“Were you able to line up extra help to cover for Cambria on Saturday and Sunday?”
“I called Daniel in the hope that he could cover for Cam this weekend.” She referred to the
chef-in-training who’d interned with us for three months during the winter. “But he’s going to be
participating in the Battle of the Chefs cook-off this weekend as well.”
“That’s a bold move for someone barely out of culinary school.”
“It is, but Daniel’s an excellent chef, and he knows it.” Amy smiled. “He’s done very well as
sous chef for the Chart House and seems to be on his way to having the experience he needs to
run his own kitchen. On the one hand, I was actually really happy to hear that he’d entered the
cook-off, but on the other hand, I was disappointed he’d be unavailable to help here.”
“Do you have a plan B?”
“I do. Sort of. I plan to come in early and get all the prep work done so that we’ll have
everything we need at our fingertips. Kim is also on board for the weekend,” Amy referred to our
summer season chef intern, Kim Nickles. “We have our summer kitchen staff and the temp
agency is going to send an additional kitchen worker to help with the clean up.”
“Given that we’ve decided to be open on Monday for the holiday, it’s going to be a busy
weekend,” I cautioned. “We’ll need to pace ourselves.”
“We’ll be fine,” Amy assured me. “The cook-off is only two days, so Cam will be here on
Monday. And since you decided to be closed on Tuesday and Wednesday next week, we’ll all
have a chance to rest up before the weekend.”
I appreciated Amy’s confident attitude. Lobsterfest was one of the busiest weekends of the
year, so it wasn’t a good time for Cambria to take time off; however, when she expressed her
interest in entering the Battle of the Chefs, a cook-off aimed toward sous chefs and not head
chefs, Amy and I were both happy to support her. Cambria was an excellent chef who had the
skill to run her own kitchen if she desired, but so far, she’d chosen to stay here as Amy’s sous
chef. Amy and I both appreciated her commitment.
“I have Tisha Greenbelt’s order ready for delivery,” one of our summer hires, Polly,
announced as she held up a white to-go bag. “Has Callie come back from delivering Hugh
Huntsman’s order?”
Calliope Rosenthall, Callie, had been hired to do deliveries for the summer. She didn’t drive,
but she had a bike, and since we only offered our delivery service to homes and businesses
within a three-mile radius of the Bistro, that seemed to work fine.
“I saw her downstairs just a few minutes ago,” I informed Polly. “I’ll take Tisha’s order and
make sure she gets it.”
I grabbed the takeout bag and headed downstairs to find Callie talking to Charmaine
Kettleman, my current dining room manager. Charmaine had been a Bistro employee for a long
time but hadn’t wanted to commit to a management position, so had turned the job down when
Kennedy first left. But then she’d changed her mind about a year ago, and had been serving as
“interim” dining room manager since that point. Charmaine had done an excellent job, and I was
ready to make the position permanent, but she was still of a mind to keep her options open.
“I have Tisha’s order for you,” I said to Callie as I passed off the takeout bag.

“I’ll take it right now, but I’m not sure what to do about Mr. Huntsman’s order.”
“I thought you delivered that earlier.”
“I did,” Callie assured me. “Or at least I tried to. I took the order by his house like I do every
day at noon, but he didn’t answer when I knocked on the door. I thought he might have had a
doctor’s appointment since he’d been under the weather as of late, but then I looked in through
his window and saw him sleeping in his chair. I know Mr. Huntsman is hard of hearing, and he
often falls asleep in that chair, so I wasn’t worried. But I also know he’s had almost zero appetite
since he’s been ill the past couple of weeks. If he’s going to eat, he’s particular about getting his
food when it’s hot. Since I didn’t want his food to get cold, I knocked on the door again. A lot
louder this time. When he still didn’t answer, I left his takeout bag on his porch near the front
door. But when I got back here and told Charmaine what happened, she said she wasn’t sure that
leaving the food was the right thing to do. Should I go back?”
“Why don’t you deliver Tisha’s food first and then swing back by and check on Mr.
Huntsman. I know the guy likes to nap, but since he usually takes short naps, he’s likely awake
by now.”
“Okay. That sounds like a good idea. I’m worried about Mr. Huntsman. He’s had headaches,
muscle weakness, and stomach issues for a couple of weeks now.”
“It sounds like he really should call his doctor.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling him, but Mr. Huntsman is an independent sort of person who
doesn’t put a lot of faith in doctors.”
I knew people like that. People who would readily call a plumber if their sink was clogged or
an electrician if their power was on the fritz, but wouldn’t call a doctor if their body was on the
fritz.
Thinking about plumbers reminded me that I had my own plumbing issue to deal with, so
once Callie left to make her delivery, I headed toward the ladies’ room to check on the leaky
faucet. Then I continued upstairs to my office to take care of the paperwork that had piled up to
the point that I could no longer see the top of my desk.
I had to admit that I really hated the paperwork side of being a business owner; however, I
knew that unless magical helper elves took up residence in our attic, I was going to have to do it
at some point if it was going to get done.

I’d probably been working for an hour when Nikki poked her head in through my open office
door. “Have you seen Callie?”
I looked up from my desk. “The last time I saw Callie, she was heading out with a delivery,
and then she was going to swing by and check on Mr. Huntsman, but that was at least an hour
ago. Have you tried texting her?”
“I did try calling and texting, but she didn’t answer or reply. I’ll check with Amy and see if
she’s heard from her. I know she usually stops to chat with Mr. Huntsman when she delivers his
food. Normally, I wouldn’t mind if she takes extra time to chat with her customers, but we’re
busy today, and I need her back here.”

“I’m sure she just lost track of time. Why don’t you let me make the deliveries you have
ready. If Callie isn’t back by the time I’m done with that, I’ll track her down. You have enough to
do with Lucy quitting to move closer to her cousin, Jody being out sick, and Brenda taking the
week off to attend her cousin’s wedding.”
“Thanks, Shelby. It’s busier than usual in the bar today with Lobsterfest.”
“I love the idea you and Dawson came up with for Lobster Traps.”
“It is a fun name, isn’t it?”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the rest of the weekend.”
I headed upstairs, grabbed the to-go orders, and then headed out to make my deliveries.
Unlike Callie, who traveled by bike, I took my car. Given the limited delivery area, it only took
me about fifteen minutes to deliver the three orders Cambria had given me. I knew Mr.
Huntsman lived two blocks over, so since I hadn’t heard that Callie had returned to the Bistro
from Nikki, I decided to head there next. When I arrived, I found Callie sitting on the porch step.
She was alone on the step, but the presence of the police cruiser, which I was pretty sure
belonged to the town’s acting police chief, Alex Weston, seemed to be cause for concern.
“What’s going on?” I asked Callie after I sat down next to her.
Callie turned towards me with tear-stained cheeks. “It’s Mr. Huntsman. He’s dead.”
“Dead? What happened?”
She began to cry once again. “I don’t know. I came back by after I delivered Tisha’s order
like you suggested I should. The takeout bag was still where I left it, so I knocked on the door
again. When Mr. Huntsman still didn’t answer, I tried the door, but it was locked. The next-door
neighbor, Ms. Kittle, saw me trying to get inside. She looked out for Mr. Huntsman, so she came
over to see what was going on. When I explained that Mr. Huntsman wasn’t answering his door,
she offered to get her key. Ms. Kittle is around a lot. She helps with cleaning and stuff, and she
sometimes waters Mr. Huntsman’s plants when he’s away. Anyway, she used her key to get
inside, and when we checked on Mr. Huntsman, he was dead.”
“Oh no.”
“Ms. Kittle called nine-one-one, and Alex came. She told me to sit here and wait for her, so
I’ve been sitting and waiting like I was told to.”
“Do you have your cell phone?”
She glanced at her bike. “It’s in the basket. I suppose I should have called someone, but after
I was told to sit, I sat.”
“That’s fine. I’m going to call Nikki to let her know what’s going on, and then I’ll try to talk
to Alex.”
“What should I do?” Callie asked.
“Just continue to sit here,” I instructed.
“I can do that.”
I looked around the area. “Do you know where the neighbor who let you in went?”

“I think she’s still inside with Alex.”
“Okay.” I pulled out my cell phone. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see if I can find out
what’s going on.”
When I entered the house after I called Nikki, I found Alex trying to comfort the woman
sobbing hysterically next to the chair that had been draped with a sheet. Based on the form
beneath the sheet, I was going to assume that Mr. Huntsman died in this chair.
“Shelby,” Alex said, with a look of gratitude and a tone of relief in her voice. “I’m glad
you’re here. Is Callie still outside?”
“Yes, she’s sitting on the front step.”
“Okay, great. I meant to head outside and talk to Callie once I covered Mr. Huntsman, but I
was waylaid.” Alex offered me a look that clearly communicated her desperation. “This is Nellie
Kittle. She lives next door. She’s pretty upset by what happened here today. Perhaps you can help
her home and make sure she has what she needs while I talk to the county coroner’s office.”
“I’d be happy to help in any way that I can.” I put an arm around the sobbing woman and
headed toward the front door. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I uttered the socially acceptable
statement people everywhere had been coached to make in situations like this, even though it
never felt adequate.
“We had plans. Unfinished plans. A chess game we’d only just started. A new series on the
streaming channel we’d planned to watch together. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“I know,” I said in response to the woman’s agony. It sounded like she was close to her
neighbor, and my heart really did go out to her. I’d lost people in my life. People I’d counted on
to be around who suddenly weren’t. The loss of someone you thought would always be there
could send your body into a state of shock, taking days or even weeks to recover from.
“Sometimes things happen that we can’t predict and have no control over,” I added as I helped
the woman into her house, poured her a glass of water from the half-full pitcher in the
refrigerator, and settled her into her cozy chair by the fireplace. “Is there someone I can call for
you?”
“No.” She took a sip of her water. “I’m fine.” She took several deep breaths in rapid
succession. “I just wasn’t expecting to find what I found when I went inside with Callie to check
on things.”
“I understand.” I looked out the window and saw Callie still sitting on the step next door. “I
need to take Callie home. Are you sure that there isn’t anyone I can call for you? Maybe a friend
who would be willing to come and sit with you.”
“There’s no one. Hugh was my only friend, and now he’s gone.”

Chapter 2

“How did things go with Callie after you dropped her off at her apartment?” I asked Nikki
later that evening, after the bar closed, when a few of us gathered to have a drink.
“Okay.” Nikki slid onto the barstool next to the one Beck was sitting on and Beck’s dog,
Meatball, was sleeping under. Dawson, who had returned to the Bistro after his jam session with
his band members, had called Beck and asked him to come by for a drink after he found out what
was going on. “She was shaken up,” Nikki continued. “I think she developed a real bond with
Mr. Huntsman during the three months she’s worked here. He ordered lunch for delivery almost
every day, and most of the time, if we weren’t super busy, she’d stay and chat for a bit.”
“It’s really sad, but at least he went peacefully in his sleep,” I pointed out.
“I know that Mr. Huntsman was at least eighty and was hard of hearing, but does anyone
know if he had any other medical issues?” Beck asked. “Heart disease maybe?”
We all admitted that we knew very little about the man other than his food preferences.
“Did Alex have anything to say about the cause of death?” Dawson asked me.
“We really didn’t talk,” I responded. “Alex had Callie wait outside, and then she asked me to
take the neighbor home. The neighbor was pretty broken up about the situation, so it took me a
few minutes to get her settled. By the time I made it back to Callie, Alex had spoken to her and
cleared her to leave, so I brought her back to the Bistro. It was only then that I noticed how
shaken up she really was, and decided to ask Nikki to take her home. That was hours ago, and
that’s really all I know.”
“Callie did say that Mr. Huntsman had been feeling ill the past couple of weeks,” Nikki
reminded me.
“That’s true,” I replied. “I guess Mr. Huntsman’s headaches and nausea may have been
symptoms of something more serious.”
“Did Alex mention an autopsy?” Dawson asked.

“She didn’t say one way or another,” I responded.
“I think I’m going to head out,” Nikki said after the conversation naturally stalled. “Nick will
be waiting for me.” Nikki lived with her long-time boyfriend, Nick Jergenson.
“I heard you guys bought another house to flip,” I said. Nick flipped houses and an
occasional commercial property for a living. Most of the time, he did fairly well, but he had
suffered a couple of flops that had set him back financially.
“Not a house. A warehouse,” Nikki corrected. “And it’s a cool warehouse near the water that
some guy who lives in California inherited and sold ‘as is’ for what Nick assures me is pennies
on the dollar.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Nikki admitted. “The warehouse was used for storage and is full of random
items, mostly junk, but I did notice a few antiques. After the property closes, the first thing Nick
and I need to do is clear out the space, sell what we can, and trash anything that’s of no value.
Once we do that, Nick will assess the property. I don’t think he has a clear vision of what he
wants to do with the warehouse, but Nick has assured me that the land alone is worth the price he
paid. If he doesn’t figure out a good use for the warehouse, I imagine that he’ll tear it down and
build something else on the land.”
“It does sound like you got a good deal.”
“Nick seems to think so. And going through all the treasures that are stored there should be
fun. Nick isn’t looking forward to clearing out the warehouse, but the building is packed full of
potential, so I’m choosing to look at it like a treasure hunt.”
“And it might be.” I smiled at Nikki’s enthusiasm. “You never know what you might find
until you start looking.”
“Exactly.”
Once Nikki left, I poured myself a glass of wine and then turned toward Beck, who was
sipping a beer. “I was happy to hear that you came in today since you haven’t been in hardly at
all over the summer, but I was also somewhat surprised to hear that you did since we were so
busy and you generally try to avoid the crowds.”
“I had a new client, and it seemed like a good idea to meet with her here rather than in my
apartment.”
“Anything interesting?”
Beck reached down to scratch Meatball on the top of his head before answering. “I wouldn’t
say the case is interesting, but since I wasn’t busy, I decided to look into things and then decide
whether to formally accept the case or pass on it.”
I waited for Beck to continue.
“The case is actually a simple one. My client has recently been divorced, and as part of the
divorce settlement, her ex-husband agreed to give her a lump sum of cash. As of today, he’d only
given her about twenty percent of the cash they’d agreed upon. My client tried to file a complaint
through her ex-husband’s attorney, but her ex-husband claims he hasn’t paid what he owes
because he doesn’t have the money. My client is convinced that her ex-husband is lying and is

trying to find a way to collect what he agreed to pay. I explained that I was a private investigator,
not a collection agent. She assured me that she wasn’t looking for someone to actually collect the
debt, but someone who could prove that her ex-husband had the cash and was choosing not to
hand it over.”
“So she wants you to dig into his financials and spending patterns.”
“Basically. I’m not sure I want to get into the middle of a divorce dispute, but the woman
seemed desperate, so I agreed to poke around a bit.”
Beck had handled a lot of really interesting cases, but this certainly wasn’t one of them, so
rather than continuing the conversation, I headed upstairs to grab my purse. By the time I made it
back downstairs, Beck and Meatball had left, and Dawson was making the rounds to make sure
that everything was locked up. We’d driven into town together in my car this morning, so we’d
drive home together as well.
As we approached the house on the bluff, I noticed the lights were on in the kitchen. My half-
sisters, Sage Wilson and Sierra Danielson, were staying at the house for the summer, so I
assumed that at least one of them was still up.
“Hey, guys,” Sage greeted Dawson and me when we walked in through the back door.
I picked up my cat, Hennessy, as Dawson’s dog, Goliath, trotted over to greet him. During
the winter when the Bistro was less busy, Dawson brought Goliath to work with him, and I
occasionally brought Hennessy. During the peak season, however, when there was barely room
to walk around without running into someone, Dawson and I both agreed the animals were better
off at home.
“You both look exhausted,” Sierra, who was sipping a cup of tea, added.
“Both of us are exhausted, but I wouldn’t mind some tea,” Dawson said. He headed to the
stove to boil the water after asking me if I wanted any. I answered that tea with brandy and honey
would be nice. He added brandy to both our cups and added honey to one of them.
“Alex stopped by earlier on her way to Leo’s,” Sage informed us. Leo Atwell was Alex’s
boyfriend and my next-door neighbor. “She saw the light and thought you might be home.”
“Did she say anything about Mr. Huntsman’s death?” I asked.
“Not really. Alex mentioned the death, but she left once she realized you were still at work
and wouldn’t be home until late.”
Since I supposed she’d be home, and in bed by this time of the night, I’d have to catch up
with her tomorrow. If she spent the night with Leo, which she did more often than not, she might
even stop by in the morning, assuming, of course, that any of us would be up by the time she was
heading into work.
Once the tea was ready, Dawson headed to his office to check his emails, which left me alone
with Sage and Sierra. I was happy that Sierra wasn’t working this evening. She was working on a
research project that seemed to require contacts spread across much of Europe, and if she wasn’t
on the phone with someone, she was flying off to meet them.
“Have you made any progress on the journal you’ve been trying to translate?” I asked.

“I have made progress, but it’s slow going. The author, whom I’ve now decided was a potter
named Atticus, recorded his thoughts using a patchwork of Ionic Greek and ancient Macedonian.
Since I’m not proficient in either language, I’ve had to carefully translate each word.”
It sounded tedious to me, but Sierra seemed to be really into it.
I asked a few questions to keep the conversation going and to show interest in a topic Sierra
was obviously passionate about; however, after several minutes, Sierra reached her arms over her
head, yawned, and announced it was time for her to turn in.
“Will you be around tomorrow?” I asked as she gathered her belongings.
“I will be. I have a lot of research to get through, so I’ll likely be locked in the library, but I
don’t plan to go anywhere.”
After Sierra headed up to bed, I looked at Sage. “How about you? Are you going to be
around tomorrow?”
Sage was a clothing designer who traveled almost as often as Sierra, although it seemed she
was staying close to home this summer. Based on her unwillingness to talk about things, I
thought that Sage might have suffered either a breakup or a business setback. In a way, I was
beginning to become worried about her. She never complained, and I could tell that she was
trying very hard not to spread her melancholy to the rest of us, but Sage was usually the
energetic, bubbly sort of person, and this summer, she just wasn’t.
“I’ll be here most of the day, although I have a meeting with Sully tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sully? My Sully?” I was surprised by Sage’s announcement. Sully was relatively new to the
area, and I wasn’t aware that Sage even knew him. Although he had been coming around for
band rehearsals, so perhaps she’d gotten to know him over the past couple of months since the
band began meeting here on the nights they didn’t rehearse at Lonnie’s house.
She nodded. “Sully and I talked about his new job at the middle school while he waited for
Piper, who’d borrowed his truck, to pick him up after band rehearsal.” She referred to Piper
Fairchild, a good friend and event planner who’d recently moved to Holiday Bay. “He mentioned
the Adopt a Program project Abby and Lacy launched.” Abby Sullivan owned the Inn at Holiday
Bay, and Lacy Parker was Lonnie’s wife. “I was intrigued by the idea and asked a bunch of
questions. I guess I knew that Abby and Lacy were going to help with the theater arts program
after funding for the program through the school district was pulled, and someone mentioned that
Georgia and Haven were sponsoring a culinary arts program to help with the funding deficit as
well.” Both Georgia Carter-Peyton and Haven Hanson worked at the inn. “But I wasn’t aware the
project had expanded beyond that.”
“I’ve heard that the idea has really taken off,” I commented. “I spoke to Abby the other day,
and she told me that not only has the response from the middle school parents far exceeded their
expectations, but merchants from all over town, even those without children in school, have
offered to help. I thought about helping myself, but I’m not sure what sort of talent I might have
that girls and boys twelve to fourteen would enjoy.”
“Maybe you can help me,” Sage suggested.
“You?” I asked. “Are you going to adopt a program?”

“I might. Sully told me about an eighth grader named Sam who really wants to pursue a
career in fashion design. She has a ton of drawings and wants to learn to sew, but doesn’t know
anyone who can teach her, and she can’t afford a sewing machine. Sully wanted to know if I
knew anyone who would be willing to work with her, and before I even had a chance to think
things through, I found myself volunteering.”
“Do you have the time to do something like that? It sounds like a huge commitment.”
While Sage, who had a big heart, would be an excellent mentor, she’d also been running a
hundred miles an hour since I’d known her.
“I do have time.” She hesitated and then continued. “I wasn’t going to bring this up quite yet,
but I’ve decided to make some changes in my life.”
“Changes?”
She nodded. “I’ve been approached by someone who wants to buy my LA operation. In fact,
in addition to wanting to buy the garment factory, they also want to buy my formalwear brand. I
wasn’t sure I wanted to sell at first, but I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump lately, and
running back and forth between Los Angeles and the East Coast has worn me out. I think I’m
ready to slow down a bit.”
“Wow.” I had to admit this shocked me. “This is big news. Will you be moving to Maine
permanently?”
Sage began twisting a lock of her long blond hair, a habit I noticed she tended to engage in
when she was nervous or feeling out of her depth. “I’m thinking about it. I still have my
sportswear line and Garret and I have talked about expanding from ski and mountain wear to all
types of sportswear, including resort wear.” Garret Hemingway was Sage’s East Coast partner.
“If I sell my LA operation and my formalwear line, I’ll have both time and the financial
resources I need to expand my outerwear and sportswear lines, and I can do that from right here
in Maine.”
I leaned forward and hugged Sage. “You know I would love it if you moved to Maine
permanently. I miss you so much when you’re in LA for months and months at a time.”
Sage paused her hair-twisting behavior and looked me in the eye. “I’m glad to hear you say
that. I was afraid you’d think I was crowding you if I started spending the majority of my time
here at the house.”
“I’d never think that.” I looked around the heart of the mansion our grandmother had left
Sage, Sierra, and me when she passed. “This is your home too.”
“I really appreciate you saying that. If I go through with my plan, I’ll likely want my own
place at some point, but this works well for the time being. My bedroom suite is really
comfortable, I have people who I love close by, and there’s plenty of room for me to set up a
sewing room, so I can work on some ideas I’ve had for my resort wear line.”
“We do have a lot of extra bedrooms that aren’t being used.”
“I actually thought I might do something with the basement. If that’s okay with you, of
course. The space has its own access, and there’s plenty of room to spread out.”

“Using the basement sounds like a good idea,” I agreed. “Are you thinking about using this
space to work with Sam?”
She nodded. “And potentially others. In addition to mentoring Sam, I’m thinking about
sponsoring a fashion design program through the Adopt a Program project. I figure I can set up
six sewing stations in the basement, which would allow me to offer my services as a mentor to
six girls, or boys, as the case may be. Sam and five others. If you have time and want to help me,
that would allow me to spend more hands-on time with each student. Plus I’d have the added
bonus of spending more time with you.”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t love the idea, but because I wasn’t sure that I had the time.
“I’m only going to commit to the fall semester,” Sage added. “My meeting with Sully
tomorrow is to provide an opportunity for me to set up a realistic timeline. I have extra sewing
machines and other equipment in storage in LA that I can have shipped to Holiday Bay. While I
have the equipment I’ll need to get started, the basement will need some renovating before it’s
really usable; fresh paint and a good cleaning at the very least.”
I assured Sage that I’d love to help her both set up the basement as a mini garment factory
and mentor the students who showed interest in fashion design. She suggested I attend the
meeting with Sully with her the following day, and I agreed to make time as long as we could
work around my lunch with Kennedy.
After Sage headed to bed, I paused to wonder about the emotional issues Sage had
mentioned. I wanted to ask her about the issues she’d alluded to, but once she’d segued into the
idea of sponsoring a fashion design program, the opportunity hadn’t really presented itself. I
supposed I’d wait for an opening and broach the topic at some point.
Dawson wandered back into the kitchen just about then. I informed him that I was ready to
head upstairs, and he announced that he wanted to confirm he’d locked the door to the studio
before turning in. It was a beautiful night, so I decided to make the short walk across the yard
with him.
“Look at all those stars,” I said as the two of us carefully made our way across the lawn. The
sea was visible in the distance when the moon was bright, but the moon was small while the stars
were large tonight.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” Dawson agreed. “The sort of clear, starry night that people write
songs about.”
“Speaking of songs, how was band practice?”
“It was really good. So good in fact, that I’m feeling fairly confident that we’re going to be a
top contender for the coveted Battle of the Bands cup.”
“I’m glad the new band is working out. I know that Colt and Lonnie used to have a band with
a few other guys, but I wasn’t aware that Sully had played in a band before this.”
“Of the four of us, Sully is the best singer by far. We’re lucky he wanted to join us.”
Once Dawson confirmed that the door to the studio was indeed locked, we headed back to
the house. As he always did, Dawson began turning off lights and making sure the windows were
closed and the doors were locked, while I headed upstairs to use the bathroom and wash up first,
as I always did. Dawson and I had a comfortable relationship with lots of built-in routines. Given

the fact that we weren’t married or even engaged, I imagined our “old married couple” vibe
might seem odd to others, but for us, it worked. I was sure I’d never been happier than I was now
that I had Dawson, Goliath, and Hennessy to go home to every night. ...