“No,” she says. “Consider it an inn-warming gift. I wish you only success and happiness, Adie Lou.” She reaches into a container by the cash register and removes a doggy biscuit. “And we can’t forget your friend out there.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the biscuit and my ice cream and heading for the door. “Truly.”

“You need something sweet before the sour,” she says with a wink.

I head out the door, bells jingling, feeling as light and happy as they sound. I hand Sonny his treat, and we stroll to the long boardwalk that winds along the channel leading to Lake Michigan. It’s still too early for the big boats to have returned to the marinas that dot the boardwalk, but a few hardy fishermen in johnboats are working the banks.

The sun is shining, the water is sparkling and Saugatuck resembles a fairy-tale village in a pop-up children’s book. Sonny and I take a seat on a bench near the water, and the dog barks when ducks approach looking for handouts.

I hold on tightly to Sonny’s leash and my cone as the ducks stand their ground, squawking as loudly as the dog is barking. Sonny stands on the bench, and the ducks flap atop the water. I laugh at the showdown, before the ducks do a swift U-turn, swimming away quickly enough to make waves.

I take a bite of my ice cream, and then hold it up in front of the sky and the water, my eyes filled with shades of blue.

Suddenly, I realize I am smiling. I am in a resort town on a pretty day eating an ice cream cone for lunch. I am living the dream.

Without warning, the ducks return, again squawking for food, which causes Sonny to bark.

Showdown, I think, watching the ducks and Sonny duel. Making waves.

My mind turns to my meeting with Iris, and yet, for once, I feel empowered by Evan’s plan and my talk with Teresa.

Time to ruffle some feathers, I think, finishing my ice cream.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The Dragoon Lady is alone.

I wasn’t expecting this.

I was expecting her to be surrounded by her Red Hat posse. Seeing her all alone unnerves me. I had entered the Saugatuck Country Club like Al Capone, guns blazing, ready to do battle with the Blue Hair Gang. But one-on-one with my nemesis—my personal Eliot Ness—freaks me out.

As I approach Iris, who is sitting as rigid and upright as the floral arrangement on the table, I feel dizzy.

I should have brought Sonny—who I left in the car, his ears blowing in the air-conditioning like Snoopy’s were when he was battling the Red Baron—for backup.

“You’re late,” Iris says as a greeting. She checks her thin gold watch and gives me a tsk-tsk.

I check my cell. “It’s 2:01,” I say, already exasperated.

“As I said...”