Chapter One

“…don’t you agree Opa?” Harriet looked up from the magazine she’d been reading. “Someone has to find a man for Mom.”
Tap tap. “Ninety-eight” Tap tap. “One hundred.” Lukas Devries sighed and turned his attention to his granddaughter. “You almost made me lose count, Skattebol.” He tied off the last bag of oysters. “Now what were you saying?”
Harriet stabbed at the magazine with a forefinger. “I was saying…” she rolled her eyes to convey her impatience… “that since Mom insists she’s not interested in any of the local men, I’ll have to find one for her.”
Lukas Devries knew better than to disregard his granddaughter. Who knew what she would get up to if he didn’t at least listen? “What magazine is that?”
Harriet held it up so he could see the title. “East Coast Epicurean. You know how much I love it.”
“Yes, I do.” He wasn’t quite sure what his granddaughter saw in a magazine that focused on fancy dining. He’d much rather enjoy a bowl of chowder accompanied by a couple of chunks of Marina’s sourdough bread any day, but he kept that to himself. Harry, as his granddaughter liked to be called, was nothing if not inquisitive and in his opinion that was a trait to be encouraged. She’d been raised here in a remote area of the East Coast by a mother and grandfather who devoted almost all of their time to growing, harvesting and selling oysters. Sometimes he worried that it was a lonely existence for an eleven year old girl, but she was bright, curious about everything, and loved by everyone. They must be doing something right…
“You’ve got that far-away look in your eyes again,” she said affectionately.
“You’re right. Sorry.” He focused on the magazine. “What did you find in there? Do they have a classifieds column for husbands?”
Harry sighed. “I wish. But no. Finding a new husband for Mom couldn’t possibly be that easy.”
Lukas lifted the last bag of oysters onto the cart he’d use to wheel them into the cooler. “Did it ever occur to you that your mother might object to your meddling in her love life?”
“What love life? When was the last time she had a date?”
He had to admit she had a point. “You’ve got me there.”
She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Which is why I’ll have to lure a man here. But not just any man. Someone who shares her interests.”
“Interests? Plural? Since when does your mother think about anything other than…”
“…oysters! My thoughts exactly. Which is why I’ve chosen the man who writes the fine dining column. How long have I been getting this magazine?” She answered her own question. “Almost a year, right? I must remember to thank Shawna again for getting me the subscription, but back to the point.” Her eyes danced. “This man eats incognito at various restaurants in Boston and the surrounding area. Isn’t that cool?”
Lukas shrugged. “A lot of food critics do that; it seems to me it would be the only way to get an accurate feel for a restaurant.” In spite of himself, Lukas was interested in where this was going. “So what’s the column called?”
“One Man’s Opinion.” Harry wrinkled her nose. “Not the catchiest title, but he must have a lot of readers; the column’s in every issue. The point is, he must love oysters, because he orders them when they’re on the menu, and always comments on them. Listen to this: ‘Bound to change the way diners think about oysters. I caught a hint of seawater, followed by firm meat with a slight crunch. These are not to be missed.’” She looked up. “Sounds like something Mom would say.”
Lukas spread his hands. “A lot of people like oysters. Why him?”
Harry frowned. “I don’t know, really. There’s just something about the way he writes. I like him, Opa.”
Something in her tone told him this was more than one of her many notions, and that he’d be advised to listen. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but do you have a plan?”
Harry grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” She looked around the empty sorting shed. “Where’s Mom, by the way. Shouldn’t she be home by now?”
“She said something about having lunch in Boston with Shawna, but she’ll be home for dinner.”
Harry nodded. “Good, then we can talk. Promise not to tell anyone?”
“You mean like your mother.” It wasn’t a question.
“Mainly her, but I’d like to keep this between the two of us.” She looked at him with the piercing blue eyes that were a family trait.
“All right, I promise.”
“I thought I’d write to him and invite him to come up here and see where his food comes from. It’s all the rage, you know.”
Lukas hid a smile. “Yes, I’ve heard.”
She nodded to herself. “I think there’s a much better chance he’ll respond if I challenge him a bit. Not too much, of course. I don’t want to put him off, but if I word it right, he just might take the bait.”
Lukas wasn’t sure if he should encourage her. He doubted that anything would come of her plan; he loved his granddaughter and couldn’t bear the thought of her waiting day after day for a reply that would never come. “You’ve been thinking about this,” he said tentatively, “and it’s not a bad idea, but what if he doesn’t respond?”
She didn’t answer at first, but ran her fingers over the glossy pages of the magazine. “I’ve thought about that,” she said finally, “but I have to start somewhere, and this man is my first pick.” She grinned up at him and his heart filled with love. “Start at the top, right? Isn’t that what you always say?”
“At the top. Good luck, Skattebol.”