Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) by Maureen K. Howard Page A
Authors: Maureen K. Howard
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the freshly mulched beds out front. Hamm and I walked around back to the kitchen entrance so I could drop off my dish of secret-recipe pasta salad, adding it to the assortment of platters and dishes abundant with appetizers, desserts, and salads already covering the counters. While I arranged my plate among the other salads, Hamm scanned all of the tables until he located June’s strawberry rhubarb pie. Relieved, he smiled contentedly and headed out the kitchen door to join a group of friends we hadn’t seen since fall.
The party was gearing up. Fragrant smoke swirled up from the two forty-inch gas grills on the back patio. Red, white, and blue lanterns glowed invitingly above the picnic tables overlooking the beach. Each table had been decorated with sand buckets sporting tiny American flags and patriotic pinwheels twirling in the breeze. I was excited to see one of my favorite summertime bands, the Rolling Hams, was doing its sound check on the patio.
I was glad things worked out the way they had. Yacht club parties were always a good time, and the way the resort kept expanding and adding houses and pools and restaurants, our little club, sitting on a prime piece of beachfront real estate, was most likely on the verge of extinction. Most of the members, like Hamm and I, were determined to enjoy the facilities until we were chased out by bulldozers.
After our trip down memory lane earlier, I was aware of how much I wished our children were here with us this year. It’s hard letting go so they could make their own memories. I hoped they were enjoying their camping trip to Hocking Hills. They had reconnected with some mutual friends from high school and decided to spend a few days together before resuming their separate paths.
“Hey, Francie! Over here!” I looked in the direction of the bar where I instantly spotted June, drink already in hand. In honor of Memorial Day, she wore a sequined red tank top, blue shorts and a headband with a large silver star. On her feet were silver wedge sandals, and her toenails were painted red with little white stars decorating the center of each one. This latest outfit was one for the books, but somehow she always pulled it off. I wondered when she had time to change the streak in her hair from turquoise to royal blue. I must say, it brought out the color of her eyes.
My own patriotic ensemble was of a more classic variety. I chose my navy blue and white-striped maxi skirt, slit up the right side, and a solid navy V-neck top which showed off the curves I had worked on all winter. I was feeling pretty, and the red sandals I had on the night before were going to keep my tootsies cool and comfortable all night. I had twisted my hair into a loose ponytail, letting random strands curl around my face. Silver hoop earrings completed my outfit.
I ordered a glass of red wine at the bar, but before I could compliment June on her fashion sense, my attention was diverted to the big-screen TV inside the clubhouse. A crowd was quickly gathering, and I stretched my neck to see what all the fuss was about. What I saw was Clifton Sterling’s network rival, Linda Langley, delivering a breaking news update.
“The inferno completely destroyed a local family-owned boutique on picturesque Kelleys Island. Fire marshals are investigating the cause of the blaze. We don’t have many details yet, but we will update this story for you as soon as we receive more information. Tune in at eleven.”
Linda flashed her award-winning smile just as images of Ruby’s Treasure Chest—before and after the blaze—appeared on the screen. Seconds later, the newscast blinked forward to the next featured thirty-second disaster. June and I mirrored wide-open eyes and mouths, grabbed our drinks, and made a beeline for the bathroom to process this shocking news.
“We were just there! Poor Ruby! Poor Roger! What does all this mean? I can’t imagine who could have done this. Do you think it was an accident?”
We
The party was gearing up. Fragrant smoke swirled up from the two forty-inch gas grills on the back patio. Red, white, and blue lanterns glowed invitingly above the picnic tables overlooking the beach. Each table had been decorated with sand buckets sporting tiny American flags and patriotic pinwheels twirling in the breeze. I was excited to see one of my favorite summertime bands, the Rolling Hams, was doing its sound check on the patio.
I was glad things worked out the way they had. Yacht club parties were always a good time, and the way the resort kept expanding and adding houses and pools and restaurants, our little club, sitting on a prime piece of beachfront real estate, was most likely on the verge of extinction. Most of the members, like Hamm and I, were determined to enjoy the facilities until we were chased out by bulldozers.
After our trip down memory lane earlier, I was aware of how much I wished our children were here with us this year. It’s hard letting go so they could make their own memories. I hoped they were enjoying their camping trip to Hocking Hills. They had reconnected with some mutual friends from high school and decided to spend a few days together before resuming their separate paths.
“Hey, Francie! Over here!” I looked in the direction of the bar where I instantly spotted June, drink already in hand. In honor of Memorial Day, she wore a sequined red tank top, blue shorts and a headband with a large silver star. On her feet were silver wedge sandals, and her toenails were painted red with little white stars decorating the center of each one. This latest outfit was one for the books, but somehow she always pulled it off. I wondered when she had time to change the streak in her hair from turquoise to royal blue. I must say, it brought out the color of her eyes.
My own patriotic ensemble was of a more classic variety. I chose my navy blue and white-striped maxi skirt, slit up the right side, and a solid navy V-neck top which showed off the curves I had worked on all winter. I was feeling pretty, and the red sandals I had on the night before were going to keep my tootsies cool and comfortable all night. I had twisted my hair into a loose ponytail, letting random strands curl around my face. Silver hoop earrings completed my outfit.
I ordered a glass of red wine at the bar, but before I could compliment June on her fashion sense, my attention was diverted to the big-screen TV inside the clubhouse. A crowd was quickly gathering, and I stretched my neck to see what all the fuss was about. What I saw was Clifton Sterling’s network rival, Linda Langley, delivering a breaking news update.
“The inferno completely destroyed a local family-owned boutique on picturesque Kelleys Island. Fire marshals are investigating the cause of the blaze. We don’t have many details yet, but we will update this story for you as soon as we receive more information. Tune in at eleven.”
Linda flashed her award-winning smile just as images of Ruby’s Treasure Chest—before and after the blaze—appeared on the screen. Seconds later, the newscast blinked forward to the next featured thirty-second disaster. June and I mirrored wide-open eyes and mouths, grabbed our drinks, and made a beeline for the bathroom to process this shocking news.
“We were just there! Poor Ruby! Poor Roger! What does all this mean? I can’t imagine who could have done this. Do you think it was an accident?”
We
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