It was their last night before the trial. “Want to go to dinner at the inn?” Stone asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be on display. I would much rather cook dinner for you aboard.”

“Why don’t I cook dinner for you instead?” he asked.

“No, that would have too much of the condemned’s last meal about it.”

“Come on, I don’t want you to worry about the trial.”

“I am serene,” she said, and she certainly seemed that way. “I’d just rather do something normal, like cooking. In fact, I’ve already thawed a chateaubriand in anticipation.”

“Sounds wonderful. Can I make a Caesar salad?

“Oh, all right, but just the salad. There’s some romaine lettuce in the supplies Thomas sent down.”

“And I need fresh eggs, olive oil, garlic, some Dijon mustard, and a can of anchovies.”

“All in the galley. I’ll get the meat started and make some béarnaise sauce first. You can make me a martini.”

“Pffft! You’re a martini!”

She groaned.

“One martini, coming up.” Stone mixed the drink, shook it, dropped an olive in, strained the crystal liquid into a large martini glass, and set it on the galley counter.

She sipped it. “Mmmm. Just right.”

Stone mixed himself a rum and tonic and watched as she unwrapped the beef, the center of the tenderloin, pounded it to about an inch and a half of thickness with a meat mallet, dusted it liberally with salt and pepper, and laid it on the gas grill. Then she diced some shallots and sautéed them with some tarragon, vinegar, and white wine. While this mixture was reducing she separated half a dozen egg yolks, heated some butter, then put the yolks into the Cuisinart, turned it on, and poured hot butter into the chute. Moments later she had hollandaise, which, when mixed with the reduced shallots and tarragon, became béarnaise. She dipped a finger into the sauce and held it up for Stone to taste.

“Wow!” Stone said. “You made that look easy.”

“It is easy,” she replied, turning over the beef. “Now you can make your salad.

Stone rinsed the romaine leaves and left them to drain. He crushed a couple of garlic cloves and some anchovies into the wooden salad bowl, then separated two egg yolks and dropped them into the bowl as well. Then he whipped the mixture with a whisk while adding olive oil until the consistency was perfect. He added a teaspoon of mustard and a little vinegar, some salt and pepper, and gave her a fingerful to taste.

“Absolutely perfect,” she crowed, hoisting the meat onto a cutting board and slicing it deftly with a sharp knife.

Stone put the lettuce into the bowl with the dressing and tossed it until each leaf was thinly coated, then set the bowl on the saloon table alongside the beef.