Page 8 of Death of a Grill Master

The Big Bang on Frenchman’s Bay was about to begin.

Chapter 4

The first firework shrieked into the night sky and exploded in a cascade of red stars over Frenchman’s Bay. Cheers erupted from the crowd gathered on the grassy hill above the town pier, echoing out across the water. Horns honked from boats in the harbor, their white running lights bobbing like fireflies on the dark tide. Bar Harbor’s first-ever “Big Bang on the Bay” had officially begun.

Hayley took a long sip from her insulated thermos, which Bruce had just refilled. The drink inside—a dangerously stiff mix of lemonade and Jack Daniels—warmed her from the inside out. She passed Bruce his matching thermos.

“You know what I like best about Labor Day?” she asked.

Bruce twisted the lid and took a swig. “The opportunity to reflect on organized labor’s contributions to the American economy?”

“No,” she said, settling back. “The opportunity to eat three kinds of potato salad without judgment.”

Bruce chuckled and slung an arm across her shoulder. “They should erect a statue of you in the town square. One hand holding a Jack and Coke, the other flipping a burger, wearing a T-shirt that says, LET ME TELL YOU WHAT YOU’RE DOING WRONG.”

“And you’d leave flowers at its feet every Labor Day.”

“I’d leave extra pickles.”

The sky lit up again—silver sparklers burst into cascading strands, then a green starburst thundered, the boom vibrating in their chests.

Kids dashed barefoot across the grassy bluff in the distance, spinning in circles with glow sticks, shrieking with laughter and blasting whipped cream straight into their mouths from cans of Reddi-wip. Teenagers snapped selfies.

Bruce’s eyes drifted left. “I thought Randy said he might stay in tonight.”

Hayley followed his gaze.

There, off to the side on a quilt, half in shadow, sat Randy and Sergio.

Quiet.

Holding hands.

Watching the fireworks.

“He was vague,” she said, her tone tight.

“And yet … there they are.”

“Not with us,” she said. “Just—off by themselves.”

Hayley didn’t like it. Something in her gut tensed. Randy didn’t avoid her unless he had something to hide—and that was rare.

Still, she didn’t want to push.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

Another firework exploded above them, showering the sky in purple and gold.

“There’s Mona and Earl,” Bruce said, nodding toward the edge of the bluff. Sure enough, they were locked in a passionate kiss by the railing, completely ignoring the explosions above them.

“Oh, I have to get a photo of that,” Hayley muttered. “I’ll use it to blackmail Mona into donating free lobsters for my feed next weekend.”

Bruce winced. “Don’t provoke her. Have you seen the violent way Mona tears apart a lobster when she’s eating it? It’s not a big leap to a human she’s annoyed with.”

Another whistle split the air. A firework shot skyward—and just as it burst into a dazzling umbrella of white light, something caught Hayley’s eye.