Bernard closed the door to the gallery, and pulled on his gloves. His stomach growled—it had been a long time since breakfast for him—and he smiled as Opal turned her head, her black, shiny ponytail shining in the crisp noon sunlight.

Her emerald green eyes sparkled as she laughed and said, “You must be hungry.”

“Ah, a sleuth,” Bernard said with a laugh. “What tipped you off?”

He pulled the strap of his camera further up his shoulder and noticed that she had the very same one. They were expensive and elaborate, and he imagined that she was very serious about her photography if she had one of that caliber.

“Mind if I head over to the cafe with you? I had breakfast there, but the cupboard’s bare at home. No more croissants,” he said.

She hesitated for a moment, and he thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

Pulling her camera strap further up her own shoulder, she said, “Of course. I promise not to talk anymore about myself. I think my father did enough of that for both of us. I’m sorry.”

She seemed sincere, her smile broad, so he took her at her word and fell in step beside her as they headed toward the cafe.

She’d seemed pretty embarrassed in the gallery when her father had done his fatherly job of bragging about her. He might have been embarrassed, too, if his father had done that but he’d never in his life had that experience. He thought it was kind of sweet, actually.

“Do you take that everywhere you go?” he asked, pointing toward her camera.

She laughed and tugged the camera strap further up her shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Never know when you’re going to need it. And honestly, I sometimes think I can see better though the viewfinder than I can with my own eyes.”

Bernard knew exactly what she meant and said so.

“Funny, I feel the same way. I don’t do humans all that well, but through the lens, I seem to be able to make sense of them.”

He kicked himself—part of not “doing humans” all that well was not divulging what you were really thinking. He’d learned that the hard way growing up, and he’d best remember it now. Even though her father had been warm and friendly, and she seemed charming, you never really knew what you were getting. That had been his experience, anyway.

As they crunched through the snow on the way to the cafe, he shook his head at what kind of morning he’d had. He’d been at River’s End Ranch for a few weeks, and the only person he’d talked to, really, was Steven, the director, and his roommate, Brandon. He knew Kelsi a little bit, but he’d mostly gotten takeout from either the cafe or the restaurant and brought it home. And continued working.

Nothing really interesting had happened in between the remaining meals of leftover Chinese food except for what he saw in his camera’s viewfinder and suddenly, he found himself meeting all these new people. And interesting ones, at that.

But what he really wanted to do was to get something to eat and head back to his cabin as the rolled up photos in the cardboard tube were calling to him.

“Oh, hi, guys,” Kelsi said as they entered the cafe, and he was greeted with the same warm smile he’d received earlier. “Opal, your lunch isn’t quite ready yet. Have a seat anywhere that’s open, and Bernard, I’ll get your order in a second.

They stood back to let her pass as her hands were full with two very large plates of what looked like chicken fried steak to him. She set both plates down in front of one man and said, “There you go, Noah. Let me know if you need a third.”

He shook his head, not imagining how any human could eat that much, but the man dug in heartily. His French upbringing of fine food but small portions tingled through him as they passed the booth and took one of their own further into the cafe. To each his own.

“Bob’s special today is chicken fried steak, and it’s to die for,” Kelsi said as she reached their table, her notepad out and pencil ready. “Opal, you want something to drink while you wait?”

“I think I’ll have some hot chocolate,” she said as she sniffed the air. “Smells delicious. And whipped cream, too, please.”

“It’s the best. What can I get for you, Bernard? Soup?”

“Yes, please. Soup and your strongest cheese and best bread.”

“It’s not a French restaurant, but as usual, I’ll see what Bob has to give you. You’re missing out on the chicken fried steak, though,” she said with a smile as she slipped her notepad into the pocket of her apron.

“Thanks,” Bernard said. He turned back to Opal, who was staring at him, her head cocked.

“Is that what people eat in France?”

He closed his eyes as his phone rang in his pocket, the ring tone familiar. His mother would not be pleased if she knew he’d chosen the theme from Jaws to let him know she was trying to get in touch. He reached in his pocket and quickly clicked the red decline button.

He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure about all of France, but that’s what I ate when I stayed with my grandparents during the summers when I was growing up. Makes me feel like I’m there, so I order it when I can. Kelsi’s been really nice about it.”

“I think it’s Bob you want to be really nice about it,” Opal said with a laugh. “But that’s great.”

“It is when I don’t have time to shop or cook. I’ve been kind of busy lately,” he said and his gaze traveled to the tube of photographs.

“Oh? With more than the TV show?” Opal asked as she followed his gaze to the tube.

“Yes.” He cocked his head and looked at her. She’d flat out said that she saw more through the viewfinder of her camera. Maybe she could see something he couldn’t—he’d been looking hard enough and hadn’t found anything himself. He glanced at her camera, and hesitated for only a second before deciding that she was trustworthy and might be able to help.

“Would you like to see?” he asked quietly, hoping that she was interested.

“Of course!” she said, leaning forward on her elbows. Her eyes gleamed and she scooted her camera over on the bench, moving her plate and silverware out of the way.

He took in a deep breath. Hopefully, she wouldn’t think he was crazy, and run out of the restaurant to get as far away from him as possible. Actually, he didn’t need to tell her exactly what he was looking for. Just show her the pictures and find out what she saw herself. It would probably be safer that way. He hadn’t had much luck with human relationships before, and there was little reason to think that would change now.

He reached for the tube and gently pulled out the pictures. He laid them flat on the table and squinted as he looked at the area of the photograph he’d been eager to see. He pointed to the copse where he’d seen movement in the background of what he’d been shooting that day, and his adrenaline started to pump. Maybe there was something there.

“I’d been shooting from up behind Old Town for a few days, blocking shots and trying to find my best angles for opening and wide-lens scenes for the TV show. Sometimes I’d look through the viewfinder and while I was concentrating on something in the foreground, something in the background moved. There were no people around, and I even waited for maybe some trail horses or snowmobiles or something to come out. Nothing, though, and in the photographs I couldn’t see anything.”

He looked up and realized that the photographs were upside down for Opal. In his excitement, he turned them around and stood, coming around to the other side of the booth and sliding in next to her.

“See, right here, in this area. And it happened several days in a row, many, but I was never able to see anything in the photographs.”

Opal leaned forward and focused on the area he’d circled with a pencil. “Here? Behind these trees?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Can you make anything out?”

“It’s Bigfoot, I’m telling you,” Kelsi said as she set down Opal’s hot chocolate and Bernard’s soup. “Just like I told you this morning, Opal. Show him what you have. Somebody’s gotta find that thing.”