“Too fussy,” Dinah said, coming up behind me. “I bet he wears boxers, and they’re probably starched and ironed.”

Down the aisle out of earshot, Commander looked up from an olive jar and waved us over to ask our opinion on whether to get the plain olives or the pimento ones. I wasn’t sure what the olives were for.

“Sorry,” he said, “I should explain. I had a few boxes of things shipped up here for the workshop, but I always forget some things and I also always like to add some fresh things.”

I looked at the jar of olives again. “Are those for your gourmet s’mores?”

Commander’s eyes lit up as he laughed. “No. I don’t go that far outside the box with the s’mores. Olives and chocolate. Even for the most adventuresome palate that sounds like a bad combo. Part of my workshop is teaching people how to use vegetables to make amusing table decorations. It’s along the line of radish roses, but a step up. I make palm trees out of crookneck squash and cucumber peel, and stick olives on as coconuts.”

While he was talking, Dinah was behind him, rolling her eyes. Maybe he was a little too excited about the details of his workshop. Actually, until that moment I hadn’t really thought about the content of his workshop.

“So, your workshop group puts together the s’mores?” I asked.

“No, no. The s’mores I do personally. The group will be helping set up some of the other activities. And my people will be doing the food and decorations for the final party. The rest of the workshops provide the entertainment.”

At the moment the closing party seemed a long way off, but I was glad he had it covered.

Mason showed up carrying some kind of sandwich and a container of lemonade. Commander glanced from Mason’s dinner option to our empty baskets. “Are you gals hungry, too?”

Dinah and I said something about dinner being a little heavy for our liking but we were thinking about a snack.

“You can just pick up some food and go back and eat it in your room, or we can make something out of it. My personal philosophy is to make an event out of everything. I love impromptu get-togethers. How about it?”

“I’m in,” Mason said. “The sandwich would have been okay, but your idea sounds much better.”

I looked toward Dinah, expecting something negative after what she’d said about Commander.

“You know, I feel that way, too. Why not have some fun?” Dinah actually smiled at him, and they all turned toward me. I got it. As the holder of the rhinestone clipboard, I was the decision maker.

“Go for it,” I said, catching some of Commander’s enthusiasm. Mason replaced his sandwich and drink and came back with a cart. Dinah and I abandoned the baskets, and we began to follow our party leader through the store.

“I’ve got a perfect idea,” the silver-haired man said as he headed for the bakery. He picked up a long French baguette and put it in the cart. He kept going, stopping along the way to add more items. By the time we headed for the checkout, we had bread, sliced cheese, cartons of soup, and a flourless chocolate cake for our late-night meal, and trail mix and cookies to keep for snacks in our rooms.

We paid, then headed out into the darkness, already having fun. Even the fog made our excursion more exciting. By the time we went back through the gates of Asilomar, we were all laughing. I didn’t even realize how tense I’d been until the tension fell away.

“C’mon, let’s go to the fire circle,” Commander said as we passed the administration building. I didn’t know what he was referring to until we got to an area on the edge of the grounds. I had passed it before, but it had been empty and plain, and hadn’t made any impression on me. Now there was a fire in the pit in the center, though no one was sitting around it.

“They built the fire for the bird group’s farewell,” Commander explained. A low wall with a glass layer on top formed the enclosure and protected it from the constant wind. We put our packages on the benches and sat around the fire. The warmth felt good and the brightness was reassuring. Commander said he had to get some equipment from his room.

The man might have too-sharp creases in his jeans, but he knew how to pull together a last-minute meal. He came back with a box of supplies, and within a few minutes he was holding some kind of contraption with the bread and cheese inside over the fire. Dinah was holding the long wire handle of the pot the soup was heating in.

“Still think he’s too fussy?” I said under my breath to Dinah after the food had been served. She was too busy eating one of the chewy toasted sandwiches to speak. The nod of her head said he’d definitely earned some points.

“This is going to be a great weekend,” Mason said, smiling at me as he toasted everyone with a mug of the hot soup.

Mason, Dinah, and I ate the chocolate cake with our hands, a messy choice that gave me a case of the giggles. I don’t know if it was because of our sticky fingers or it was just the final release of all the tension I’d built up in the day. Our party organizer would have earned more points with Dinah if he hadn’t eaten his cake with a plastic fork and a napkin.

I jumped when my cell phone began to vibrate, then ring, and tried to swallow my laughter, but that only made it worse.

I answered, trying to keep the chocolate crumbs off the phone and the giggle out of my voice. I failed at both.

“Hi. I called to say good night,” Barry said. I managed to get out what I thought was a serious sounding hello as I stood to collect myself. Then I took a few steps away for privacy. Commander had produced some marshmallows and long forks, and the rest of the group had started roasting the white puffs over the fire.

“You sound funny. Is everything all right?” Barry said. I swallowed a few times and tried to think of something serious to get the giggles to stop, but I couldn’t keep the laughter out of my voice as I attempted to tell him everything was fine.

“Where are you? I hear voices in the background.” Barry never turned off his detective skills. I moved farther away, hoping to muffle the sounds, but it was too late. I heard Commander call Mason by name and comment on his marshmallow roasting technique. Barry heard it, too.

Barry had a basic animosity toward Mason Fields based on their work. In Barry’s mind, lawyers like Mason helped criminals run free. Barry didn’t like it that Mason and I were friends, either. I suppose his guy radar saw a threat. I could see his point.

“What’s Mason doing there?” Barry demanded. I could picture him suddenly sitting upright and then standing and pacing, probably running his hand through his short, dark hair. And his usual hooded expression was probably blown.

The giggles finally went away. “Mason is one of the presenters,” I began, and then carefully explained that Mrs. Shedd had merely told me she got a replacement tai chi teacher, but not who. “I didn’t know he was coming when I told you to stay home,” I said, wincing. I hoped Barry would leave it at that, but Mr. Detective had picked up on the fact that there was some kind of fun going on. He wanted details. It was useless to try to gloss over it. Barry is very good at interrogation.

“I promise this was just accidental fun,” I said, hoping to pacify him.

“Okay, then,” he said at last. “So, you’ll be too busy with your rhinestone clipboard to spend any more time with him this weekend, right?”

I uh-huhed in answer, and he said there was another reason for the call. “Were you expecting any deliveries?” When I said I wasn’t, he mentioned some sealed boxes on my front porch. “Are you involved in something you haven’t told me about?” he asked in his interrogation voice. I knew he was referring to a special delivery I’d gotten in the past-a dead mackerel with a marzipan apple in its mouth, meant as a warning.

“My life is an open book. No murders. No dead bodies. No warnings,” I said, pleased that it was true. Barry still wasn’t sold on the idea of putting the boxes in the house and wanted to open them, but I convinced him to leave them shut and put them in the garage until I got back. Just before he signed off, his voice softened. “Miss you, babe.”