Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) by Maureen K. Howard Page B
Authors: Maureen K. Howard
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calamari appetizer. He gets it every time. The spicy, sweet Thai-version of this dish really is to die for, and it’s not offered in many restaurants in this area.
“I think I’ll go with the coconut shrimp.” It was a hard decision because the lobster mac and cheese was also calling my name. Loud.
There was no hesitation on June’s part whatsoever. She chose a lobster sandwich, which was really two buns, piled high with lobster and a side of clarified butter. Seriously. And this was just the first course. I couldn’t wait to see what she would order for her entrée.
While we waited for our food to arrive, we talked over all of the interesting things that had happened since we arrived. “Bingo!” June shouted, interrupting Hamm’s retelling of his chat with the detective. “Bingo, Bingo, Bingo!”
I looked in the direction of June’s open-mouthed stare. “Bingo” was our code word for something demanding immediate attention. Standing at the bar, in the same spot that Michael had occupied just a moment ago, was an older man dressed entirely in neon orange spandex. On his head, covering his grey dreadlocks, was a pink-and-blue striped stocking hat. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was wearing high heels and sipping a drink topped off with a miniature umbrella. I almost choked.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” I said, once I regained my composure. “People are pretty amazing. You’ve got to love a free spirit!”
Thankfully, just then, our food arrived and we directed our attention to the plates in front of us. My shrimp was prepared with just the right combination of sweetness and crunch, and Hamm was evidently pleased with his choice as always.
June looked up from her decadent selection and smiled. “Don’t underestimate the magical powers of this butter!” I think I gained three pounds just watching her eat it.
We were just finishing up our yummy hors d’oeuvres when Clifton and Sirena arrived. Heads turned. People stared at the beautiful couple. I couldn’t help but think of Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. Except for the tattoo. Sirena’s low-cut, clingy tank top revealed more than her fabulous figure. An intricately executed scorpion decorated her chest above her heart. Its tail curled provocatively up and to the right. I had no idea where its head was. Sirena seemed oblivious to the attention; Clifton, on the other hand, was basking in it. I seriously thought he might take a bow, or worse yet, make a speech. Thankfully, he did neither. He plopped into the seat across from me, reached across the table, and absent-mindedly popped the last of my shrimp into his mouth. June stopped mid-greeting and stared agape at Clifton.
“Francie, quick! Grab the EpiPen in your purse!”
“What’s the matter?” Sirena was frantically looking from Clifton to June to me. I was rummaging in the bottom of my voluminous handbag, where sure enough, I located the EpiPen I had stashed there months ago in case one of my kids had an allergic reaction to something sometime. How June knew it was in there was beyond me. She grabbed it from my hand and reached across the table to stab the gasping man across from me.
So much for Jay Gatsby. Clifton was furiously scratching the ugly red hives that had blossomed on his cheeks and neck. His lips were swollen and his eyes had all but disappeared. At least he was breathing.
“Should we call the EMS?” Sirena seemed genuinely concerned about her companion’s welfare.
“He’ll be fine.” June explained to Sirena that her ex-husband was plagued with a plethora of allergies, “literally from soup to nuts.” The island’s little medical clinic would likely have provided him with the exact same treatment.
“I had no idea Cliff’s allergies were that bad,” Sirena remarked. “Frankly, he never even mentioned the fact he had them.”
Go figure, I thought.
“I knew allergies could be severe, and sometimes even fatal, but I’ve never seen
“I think I’ll go with the coconut shrimp.” It was a hard decision because the lobster mac and cheese was also calling my name. Loud.
There was no hesitation on June’s part whatsoever. She chose a lobster sandwich, which was really two buns, piled high with lobster and a side of clarified butter. Seriously. And this was just the first course. I couldn’t wait to see what she would order for her entrée.
While we waited for our food to arrive, we talked over all of the interesting things that had happened since we arrived. “Bingo!” June shouted, interrupting Hamm’s retelling of his chat with the detective. “Bingo, Bingo, Bingo!”
I looked in the direction of June’s open-mouthed stare. “Bingo” was our code word for something demanding immediate attention. Standing at the bar, in the same spot that Michael had occupied just a moment ago, was an older man dressed entirely in neon orange spandex. On his head, covering his grey dreadlocks, was a pink-and-blue striped stocking hat. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was wearing high heels and sipping a drink topped off with a miniature umbrella. I almost choked.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” I said, once I regained my composure. “People are pretty amazing. You’ve got to love a free spirit!”
Thankfully, just then, our food arrived and we directed our attention to the plates in front of us. My shrimp was prepared with just the right combination of sweetness and crunch, and Hamm was evidently pleased with his choice as always.
June looked up from her decadent selection and smiled. “Don’t underestimate the magical powers of this butter!” I think I gained three pounds just watching her eat it.
We were just finishing up our yummy hors d’oeuvres when Clifton and Sirena arrived. Heads turned. People stared at the beautiful couple. I couldn’t help but think of Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. Except for the tattoo. Sirena’s low-cut, clingy tank top revealed more than her fabulous figure. An intricately executed scorpion decorated her chest above her heart. Its tail curled provocatively up and to the right. I had no idea where its head was. Sirena seemed oblivious to the attention; Clifton, on the other hand, was basking in it. I seriously thought he might take a bow, or worse yet, make a speech. Thankfully, he did neither. He plopped into the seat across from me, reached across the table, and absent-mindedly popped the last of my shrimp into his mouth. June stopped mid-greeting and stared agape at Clifton.
“Francie, quick! Grab the EpiPen in your purse!”
“What’s the matter?” Sirena was frantically looking from Clifton to June to me. I was rummaging in the bottom of my voluminous handbag, where sure enough, I located the EpiPen I had stashed there months ago in case one of my kids had an allergic reaction to something sometime. How June knew it was in there was beyond me. She grabbed it from my hand and reached across the table to stab the gasping man across from me.
So much for Jay Gatsby. Clifton was furiously scratching the ugly red hives that had blossomed on his cheeks and neck. His lips were swollen and his eyes had all but disappeared. At least he was breathing.
“Should we call the EMS?” Sirena seemed genuinely concerned about her companion’s welfare.
“He’ll be fine.” June explained to Sirena that her ex-husband was plagued with a plethora of allergies, “literally from soup to nuts.” The island’s little medical clinic would likely have provided him with the exact same treatment.
“I had no idea Cliff’s allergies were that bad,” Sirena remarked. “Frankly, he never even mentioned the fact he had them.”
Go figure, I thought.
“I knew allergies could be severe, and sometimes even fatal, but I’ve never seen
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