On my way to the edge of the patio, I found Meara flanked by two men and I passed the cookies to her. “I don’t think I should be left alone with these,” I said.
Laughing, she took the tray and handed it to one of the men. “So, you’re a fan of the salted chocolate cookie?”
They both eyed me warily. I’d seen them around the café many times but hadn’t connected them with Meara until this moment. One was tall and deeply tanned, and wore a pair of sunglasses on top of his head. He reminded me of the kids from high school who went to yacht club camp in the summers. The other man had deep bronze skin and a ton of thick, curly black hair. His button-down shirt was open at the collar and tattoos ringed his neck. If he didn’t have a history playing college or pro football as the defensive line, I’d be shocked. The guy looked like he could snap necks with his fingertips.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said, “but it’s incredible.”
She grinned. “That’s pretty much our mission statement.”
With a bit of grudging hesitation, I said, “I can see why you have a line all the way to Market Street most days.”
She scanned the crowd, nodding slowly. “We’ve had a good start but—and I don’t have to tell you this—the start doesn’t matter if you don’t keep the momentum going.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do know that. If you’re open to it, I’d love to grab some time with you to hear more about your social media strategy.”
“That depends.” She shot me a measured look before continuing. “Did you get all the shenanigans out of your system or should I be on the lookout for another purchase and sale agreement? Or are you trying to get our liquor license revoked? Maybe calling in the health department? Where are we with the games, Loew?”
Neck Tattoo crossed his arms over his broad chest. Yacht Club flexed his jaw. I could handle myself but I had no interest in getting on their bad side. For any reason.
“That was a misunderstanding,” I said.
“Mmm.” She nodded. “Let’s not have any more of those.” She glanced toward Sunny as those surrounding her burst into laughter. “Have you been inside yet?”
I blinked at her for several moments. “Have I—what?”
She pressed her lips together to fight off a smile. “The café, Loew. Have you been inside the café?”
I glanced at the building, once gray and slumped, now fresh, gleaming white with black trim. She was talking about the café, not the perverted noise in my head. “No, not yet.”
“Buying sight unseen. Risky,” she murmured. “And your efforts have been concentrated on the patio. Thank you for lending us your maintenance crew, by the way.”
I dipped my hands into my pockets. “The least I can do.”
“Yes, about that. It seems you have some issues with my girl,” she said.
“Me? No. I have no issue with Sunny.” I had many issues with Sunny, none of which I could express without sounding deranged. And none I wanted to share with this woman or her guard dogs.
“Then she has issues with you,” Meara said.
“That…is possible, yes.”
“Hmm. You should fix those issues.” Meara studied the crowd for a moment. “I’m guessing we have another thirty, maybe forty-five minutes until winding down. I’m going to mingle and move these folks along. You should take a look inside. You can sneak out the front door and back to that office of yours.” She glanced to the top corner of Small Point Oyster Company and then back at me with a knowing grin. “I won’t tell on you.”
I snagged a cookie off the tray for Zeus and nodded at the men on either side of her. “Thanks for having us.” I glanced around. “I came with Mel. She is around here somewhere—”
“Oh, I know where Mel is,” she said, laughing. “Remember what I said about the misunderstandings.”
I needed to get back to SPOC so I headed toward the café’s back door. Cool, complete silence hit me. I followed the narrow hallway into the heart of the café. It was bright and clean with tall windows, whitewashed walls, and pale wood tables. It was small but they’d made the most of it. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the transformation and then gazing up at the exposed beams and industrial ceiling fans. The original bait shop sign had been refurbished and hung high above the letterboard menu. The place looked amazing.
“If you’re doing reconnaissance for your next prank, I should warn you that Muffy has knives and she won’t be afraid to wield them if you so much as breathe the wrong way in her kitchen.”
I dropped my gaze from the old sign to find Sunny leaning against the butcher block counter. Her dogs sat on either side of her and she wore another one of those long, loose skirts held together with a knot, though this time it was paired with a button-down shirt also knotted at the waist. Always tying up her clothing. Almost like she wanted someone to unravel her.
“Seeing as I’m not a raccoon, I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” I said.
“We never proved it was raccoons,” she argued.
“We never disproved it either. All this time, you’re running around and letting people believe that—”
