“Well, of all things!” Bertie said. “Naming an island after some clumsy old sot! The next thing you know they'll name a state after Herb! What's this world coming to?”

  Speaking of falling, I was hoping that we could make it to the restaurant before I collapsed. It was going to be embarrassing to go into a fancy French restaurant carrying a giant stuffed toy, but I wanted to sit this heavy load down somewhere, so Pierre's was just going to have to make room for Admiral Archibald.

  When we finally arrived at Pierre's, I squeezed through the door and went straight to the first empty booth, where I plunked Admiral Archibald in the corner and wedged myself in next to him. I stuffed the shopping bags under the table and looked around. Pierre's wasn't very fancy after all, but the air conditioner worked well, so I didn't care.

  Bertie picked up a menu from the table and started looking it over. “This isn't quite what I expected from a French restaurant,” she said.

  I looked at my menu. Spaghetti and meatballs, eggplant parmesan, fettuccine alfredo... no, I definitely wasn't getting a French vibe from the menu.

  “Hey, Teri, whatcha doin'? Are you stalkin' me or what? Ha ha ha!”

  My head jerked up so fast, I nearly gave myself whiplash. It was Roscoe Jr.! He wore a white dress shirt, black pants and a little bow tie for good measure. This was a nightmare. I had to be. It wasn't scientifically possible for one person to have this much bad luck in a single day. I thought about pinching myself to wake up, but Admiral Archibald was already cutting off the circulation in my left arm and if that didn't wake me, nothing would.

  “So, how do ya like my restaurant?” Roscoe Jr. said. “Pretty swanky, huh?”

  “It's uh, very nice,” I said. “But why is it called Pierre's?”

  “Oh, it's named after my dad. Family is real important to me, ya know.”

  “But, if you're father's name is Pierre, why are you called Roscoe Jr.?”

  “My dad never liked the name Pierre; he thought it made him sound French. So everybody just calls him by his nickname, Roscoe instead. I'm named after my dad, but I don't like the name Pierre Jr. either, so I go by Roscoe Jr.” Makes perfect sense. Why didn't I think of that? “You ladies are in for a treat today!” Roscoe Jr. said. “Get ready for some VIP service, because nobody rolls out the red carpet for his guests like-”

  “Junior!” an old man's raspy voice bellowed from the kitchen window. “Get off your lazy butt and start bussin' them tables! Number 17 is already attracting flies!”

  “S-sure Pop,” Roscoe Jr. stammered. “It's just that I got these VIPs I'm dealin' with right now and-”

  “Well, they ain't gonna have nowhere to sit if you don't get the damn tables cleaned, so move it!”

  “We're, uh, a little short handed today,” Roscoe Jr. said, his face turning beat red, “so I'm kinda helping out with the waitering and stuff. When you're an entrepreneur like me, ya gotta wear a lot of hats, ya know?”

  “Of course,” I replied, fighting back the full body cringe I felt coming on. It was painfully clear that not only wasn't Roscoe Jr. the boss of Pierre's, he was on the bottom rung of the corporate ladder.

  “Anyways,” Roscoe Jr. said, “I'll just take your order real quick before I-”

  “Junior!” A woman's voice shrieked from somewhere in the back of the building, “ The soda machine is outta ice again!”

  “It can't be, Ma! I just put ice in it this morning.”

  “Oh yeah? Well tell that to the customers drinkin' Pepsi and air!”

  “Uh, excuse me a minute,” Roscoe mumbled. “I gotta take care of something...”

  I gave a sigh of relief as Roscoe Jr. shuffled out of sight. The second hand embarrassment was actually causing me physical pain. Was it even possible for this day to get any worse?

  “He's cute, huh?” Bertie said. “Do you know if he's seeing anyone?”

  Chapter Three

  It was late in the afternoon as Bertie and I made our way up the front steps of the B&B. Bertie was all energetic and chatting excitedly about how much she enjoyed going shopping with me and how nice it was that we were going to be good friends and go places together. I wasn't too responsive, because it's hard to speak when you have the straps of a shopping bag clenched between your teeth while carrying Admiral Archibald on your back. At least we had gotten a ride back from town, so I didn't have to carry Bertie back too. She might have objected to being dropped as often as I dropped the Admiral.

  When we got inside, we found Aunt Sam sitting with Dr. Brad in the living room. “Well, hello, young ladies,” Dr. Brad said. “Did you have a good time?”

  “It was a blast,” I replied as I dumped Admiral Archibald in the corner.

  “Well, I'm glad you two had fun,” Aunt Sam said. “It looks like you got really lucky at the arcade.”

  “I guess you could say that, if your definition of lucky is being ambushed by a deranged woman using a giant stuffed toy as a bribe to make sure her eight-year-old juggling prodigy wins the talent contest.”

  “She seemed very nice,” Bertie chimed in, oblivious to my bitterness.

  “Oh, ho! So she got you this year!” Dr. Brad chuckled. “Shame on you, Sammie! Your own niece!”

  “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about,” Aunt Sam replied.

  “She roped me in a few years back, you know!”

  “I did nothing of the sort.”

  “I suppose you don't know anything about the rumor that went around town that I was the personal physician for the Rolling Stones?”

  “It had nothing to do with me. Rumors spread like wildfire on this island.”

  “Especially when someone is holding a match,” I said.

  “You don't feel bad that my front door was egged, my tires were slashed and I had death threats because I could only pick one winner?” Dr. Brad asked.

  “Don't exaggerate. You only received one death threat,” Aunt Sam replied.

  “Yes, but I only have one life!”

  “Well, you don't need to make such a big deal about it. Nettie Anderson was 93 years old at the time and she probably didn't even know how to use that Civil War sword she threatened you with.” Aunt Sam turned to Bertie and said, “Why don't you and I go into the kitchen where we can talk without listening to all this silliness. Dodie made some nice lemonade and I'm sure it would be just the thing on a hot day like this.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely! Let's do.”

  “Don't take all this too hard, Teri,” Dr. Brad said after they left. “One day you'll look back at it and laugh.”

  “I'll probably be in a straight jacket while I'm doing it.”

  “Oh, don't let the stories scare you; that was years ago and I'm sure people on this island are more reasonable nowadays-”

  Just then, the front door burst open and a short man with a mustache and curly hair that looked like a Brillo pad perched on his head rushed in. He charged at Dr. Brad and grabbed him by the lapels, yelling, “Where is she? You can't hide her from me!”

  The man was followed closely by two men and two women who were trying unsuccessfully to separate him from Dr. Brad, while shouting things like, “Calm down!” “Don't do anything rash!” “We don't want to get the police involved! I don't think we're in America anymore!”

  Dr. Brad seemed to be remarkably calm for a man being accosted by an unruly mob. “Should I call for help?” I asked him as I fumbled in my pocket for my phone.

  “That's won't be necessary,” Dr. Brad replied, taking the short man by the wrists and casually removing his hands from his lapels. “These are my in-laws, paying us a visit in their unique style.”

  The short man took a step back from Dr. Brad and everyone looked at me with a mix of surprise and confusion, as they became aware of my presence for the first time. “Who is this? Is she a lawyer?” one of the women demanded.

  “I suppose introductions are in order,” Dr. Brad said. “Teri, this fellow who just tried to engage me in an impromptu wrestling match is my sister's husband, Herb Doylett. It's a mystery why they're having marital problems.”

  “I want to see my wife,” Herb muttered, not bother to look in my direction.

  “We will get to that after I have finished our pleasantries,” Dr. Brad said, clearly enjoying making Herb squirm. “The woman tugging on the back of Herb's shirt is Fern Hanson, Herb's older sister,” he continued, nodding toward a stocky woman with salt and pepper hair. “You're looking well, Fern.” Fern looked at me and huffed, but didn't say anything. “And of course, the man bending Herb's arm behind him is Fern's husband Rory,” Dr. Brad said, noting a large heavy-set man with curly brown hair and a baseball cap.

  “Uh, nice place you got here,” Rory said, letting go of Herb and looking around awkwardly.

  “The nervous-looking man in the back is Augie, Herb and Fern's oldest brother.” Dr. Brad said, nodding to a thin, balding man with large round glasses that gave him more than a casual resemblance to an owl.

  “Step-brother,” Fern cut in sharply. “That's why he's such a hypochondriac. He definitely doesn't get it from our side of the family.”

  “Well at least my side of the family would have a little compassion on a man suffering from several serious medical conditions, some of which haven't been properly identified by science yet!” Augie snapped, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, “Don't they have any air conditioning in this place? This heat's going to make my duodenum flare up. I just know it!”

  “And last, but by no means least, we have Augie's wife, Stella,” Dr. Brad said, turning to a tall, thin blond wearing false eyelashes and a lot of make-up. “She was 'Miss Rhubarb' back in the day, and even appeared in a few local TV ads for Jeremy's Wildlife Sausage. But she can tell you all the details herself... repeatedly.”

  “Charmed, I'm sure,” Stella said sweetly, seemingly oblivious to Dr. Brad's jab.

  “And this lovely young lady is Teri McAfee. Her aunt owns this charming bed and breakfast that you're storming like the beaches of Normandy.”

  “Enough of this nonsense!” Herb shouted. “I demand to see my wife! Where is she?”

  Just then Bertie, Aunt Sam and Dodie came down the hall from the kitchen.

  “What's going on?” Aunt Sam asked. “It sounds like there is a riot going on in here!”

  “Herb?” Bertie said, looking shocked. “What are you doing here? Don't you have a lodge meeting tonight? And why are you wearing that old smudged shirt? I put plenty of nice clean ones in your closet before I left.”

  “Left? Ran out is more like it!” Fern snapped, not waiting for Herb to answer. “Poor Herb has been in a terrible state, and just think of what the neighbors will say!”

  “I don't care what the neighbors think!” Bertie said. “They don't have to put up with his drinking and starting today, I don't have to either. I want a divorce!”

  The Doyletts gave a collective gasp.

  “You can't divorce Herb!” Fern sputtered. “There hasn't been a divorce in the Doylett family since the Civil War!”

  “I don't care! I have had enough and I'm leaving and that's that!”

  “Like hell!” Herb exploded. “If you think you're going to waltz off with my money, you've got another think coming! I'll hire the best lawyers in the state! I'd pay them every last cent before I let you get your hands on it! Damn it, I'll fight you to the end of the world if I have to!

  “Oh yeah? Well, if you want a fight, you'll get one, buster! I'll teach you-”

  “Time out,” Dr. Brad said, stepping between them. “Everybody back to your corners. If you'll excuse us, Sammie, I think I had better take Bertie home. We will talk again when cooler heads prevail. I'm sure we will be able to work something out.”

  “Yes, I think that would be best,” Aunt Sam agreed. “Good to see you as always, Brad.”

  The door closed behind them, leaving us alone with the Doyletts.

  “Well, don't that beat all,” Rory said, pushing his cap back on his head.

  “I suppose we had better get going,” Augie said, looking at his watch. “We're going to have to hurry to catch our plane back to Minnesota. Don't forget, we will have to catch a connector flight in-”

  “We're not going anywhere!” Fern snapped. “We are not leaving this island without Bertie, you idiot!”

  “Don't call my husband an idiot, you old hag!” Stella shouted.

  “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Fern demanded, turning to Rory.

  Rory shrugged. “What do you want me to do about it, spank her?”

  “Oh, you're useless!”

  “Bertie won't get away with this!” Herb shouted. “I'll burn every last bowling alley to the ground before I let her have a dime!”

  “Look, we can't stand here talking all day,” Stella said, smoothing her hair. “These stiletto heels are killing my feet. Why don't we just go down to town, get some rooms at a hotel and get dinner. We can talk sense into Bertie tomorrow.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Rory said. “I could do with some food about now.”

  “I don't think you'll have much luck finding a room at any hotel on the island,” Aunt Sam said. “They've all been booked in advance because of the Archie Gras festival this week.”

  “What's Archie Gras?” Stella asked.

  “Don't you remember what the man on the ferry boat told us, dear?” Augie said. “Each year the Admiral Archibald Falls Municipality welcomes visitors from all around the world to its annual Archie Gras Festival celebrating the founding of their great Gulf Coast island community. People from the farthest parts of the globe join in supporting the local shop owners and entrepreneurs as they-”

  ”Well, this is a bed and breakfast,” Fern interrupted. “We can stay here.”

  “I'm sorry, but all of our rooms are taken,” Aunt Sam said. “I'm sure you'll be able to find accommodations over on Golden Happiness Isle or on the mainland.”

  “Oh! I just remembered something,” Dodie said. “The Grand High Poo-Bah Auk Leader or whatever he is, called this morning. He said that he and his family stopped at a wedding in Kansas on their way down here, and got caught in a surprise blizzard. The airport there is snowed in right now and they're going to have to wait until the storm clears and the runways get plowed before they can get another flight, so they won't be able to take their rooms for a couple of days.”

  “So, you do have rooms available!” Fern said triumphantly.

  “Apparently so,” Aunt Sam replied, glaring at Dodie. If looks could kill, Dodie would have been catapulted through the pearly gates right then.

  “Okay, that'll work for us,” Herb said. “Augie, give me my credit card.”

  Augie turned to Fern and said, “Should I?”

  Fern said, “It's okay, Augie. I only needed you to keep it while he was at the airport bar.”

  “We can't stay here too long,” Augie said. “If we don't book a flight soon, I won't be able to redeem my frequent flier miles to-”

  “The hell with your frequent flier miles!” Herb shouted. “We're staying here as long as it takes. Now where are those rooms?”

  “Well Dodie,” Aunt Sam said, “since you're being so helpful, why don't you show the Doyletts to their rooms?”

  Dodie, cheerfully unaware of Aunt Sam's displeasure, led the Doyletts up the stairs to the second floor.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Aunt Sam.

  “No, of course not! It's a terrible idea, and I'd have fired Dodie right on the spot if I thought you could cook! I don't want Brad's crazy family to bring their fighting into my house!”

  Once again the fact that I only know how to pour cereal into a bowl, and microwave frozen stuff had proved to be a blessing. But speaking about Dr. Brad and craziness reminded me that I had promised to take care of his bonsai tree. I saw that the huge book was still on the table by the sofa, but the tree was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where did the bonsai tree go?” I asked.

  “Oh, Dodie took it,” Aunt Sam said. “I didn't want to leave it in the hall where an unsteady Auk could knock it over, so I asked her to move it. She said she would look after it while you were out.”

  “Does Dodie know how to take care of the bonsai tree? Some of these instructions in the book seem kind of complicated.”

  “Don't worry, she told me she knew the exactly what to do with it.”

  “That's a relief. I wasn't looking forward to trying to manage that thing by myself.”

  “Well, I had better get back to my office,” Aunt Sam sighed. “I still have a business to run. I just hope I still have one left by time the Auks and the Doyletts are done with it.”

  I went out to the RV to get changed into my work clothes. I hoped Br. Brad was right about cooler heads prevailing, because I wasn't looking forward to having the Doyletts stay with us for long.

  When I opened the door to the RV, I saw that Dr. Brad's bonsai tree was sitting in the driver's seat all strapped in nicely with the seat belt. Apparently Dodie was just chock full of a lot of good ideas today.

  Bright and early the next morning I stepped out of the RV with the bonsai tree under my arm, and headed straight for the B&B. Spending most of the night playing nursemaid to a weedy tree and tripping over a huge stuffed Admiral Archibald which I had no room for had not left me in a great mood. I was determined to talk to Aunt Sam about the talent contest she was trying to get me to judge, or talk to Dodie about leaving the bonsai tree in my RV. Basically, I was feeling grouchy and I wanted to confront someone about something.

  I was already rehearsing an indignant speech in my mind when I opened the back door to the house, but as soon as I got inside I heard shouting coming from the kitchen. I hurried to the kitchen to find out what was going on, and saw Dodie standing at the fridge with her hands on her hips, and yelling at Rory who was seated at the table with three large empty bowls in front of him.

  “What do you think you're doing in here?” Dodie shouted. “You can't just eat anything out of the refrigerator that you want!”

  “I had to do something,” Rory replied as he poked a fork into one of the bowls. “A man could die of hunger in this place with those skimpy portions you hand out. That sorry excuse for a breakfast you gave us wouldn't stick to a mouse's ribs.”