Bread Over Troubled Water by Winnie Archer

Author:Winnie Archer [Archer, Winnie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2022-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

The best Mexican seafood in Santa Sofia is at Baptista’s Cantina & Grill, hands down. The restaurant was an institution. It had been there for as long as I could remember, at the same location, perched on the pier over a rocky inlet. Miguel had come back to Santa Sofia after his father passed, in much the same way I’d come back after losing my mother. He’d taken over the restaurant and had spent untold time and money renovating it. It was a passion project—one he’d put his entire being into.

Miguel’s sister, Laura, helped out in a pinch, and their mother still acted as the head hostess, greeting old friends and new customers alike. But the heart and soul of the place came from Miguel. He created the menu, experimented with new dishes constantly, tweaking old favorites and creating new ones. He worked the line, so he knew what it was like in the trenches with his kitchen staff, and he knew everything that went on in the front of house.

The remodel had started and finished with Billy as the contractor. The Naugahyde booths and worn tables went away. In their place now were rustic tables and chairs. The floor was tiled in an Aztec pattern, and an open fireplace stretched up to the tall ceiling, faced by bold and graphic tile. A long bar stretched along one side of the restaurant, to the left of the entrance and waiting room. Miguel had hired a knowledgeable man as his mezcal concierge. If anyone, ever, anywhere had a question about tequila or mezcal, Jorge would know the answer. The walls were wood-planked, enormous windows gave a priceless view of the pier and ocean, and specially made blown-glass fixtures completed the unique and beautiful interior.

Miguel’s father had created a restaurant with a classic menu. Miguel had elevated it. The world-class brisket queso remained—thank you, Lord—but the rest of the traditional offerings had Miguel all over them. Seared tuna tostadas; kale and sausage soup; lobster with mole sauce. The menu was a treasure trove for the ultimate gastric experience.

I didn’t have my own table in the way Josh Prentiss had had at Yeast of Eden, but if it was a slow night, Miguel would set me up at a table near the kitchen. I arrived on Wednesday night, hoping, for my sake, that that table was available.

Lucky for Miguel, it was not. The murder might have slowed the bread shop’s business, but the pall over the town had lifted, and Baptista’s Cantina & Grill was hopping. The people of Santa Sofia had embraced the changes Miguel had implemented, and the tourists loved the place even more, if that was possible. It was packed to bursting. Miguel’s mother took names at the hostess station, greeting people in her broken English. Her smile blossomed when she saw me come in, crow’s feet sprouting from her eyes. “Ivy, mija. Hola, hola.”

I went straight over to her and wrapped her in a big hug. The woman had raised a wonderful son, and I showed her my appreciation for that every time I saw her.

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