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“So, our first stop is one of my favorite places in the entire city. I’ll give you background on the history of the shop and the history of the Po-Boy itself as we walk. I didn’t see any dietary restrictions on my list, but if you are allergic to anything or are a vegetarian, vegan, or something else, let me or the restaurants we visit know, okay? This place will have seafood, as will most of the places we visit, so double-checking that there are no shellfish allergies in the group today.” No one raised their hands, so Melinda began walking and told the group about the Po-Boy. “The Poor Boy sandwich, now known as the Po-Boy sandwich, was created in 1929 during a streetcar strike at Martin Brothers’ French Market and Coffee Stand. They were streetcar conductors before they opened their restaurant in 1922. The Poor Boy sandwich was then created in 1929 when the Electric Street Railway employees went on strike, and the Martin brothers gave away sandwiches to the strikers. The original sandwiches were typically fried potatoes, gravy, and spare bits of roast beef on French bread. Today, there are many more options.”

Melinda had the speech memorized and timed so that by the time she was finished, she could answer a couple of questions if anyone had any, and then, they’d be at Henry’s door. She pulled it open for the group and allowed them all to walk in before her, but at the back of the group, the woman from the pub motioned for Melinda to go inside first and held the door for her. Melinda didn’t mean to blush, but she did.

“I didn’t see you open the door forme, Ky,” the other woman who had been with her at the pub said as Melindamoved past and back through the group toward the front of the shop.

“Find one of those cute boys you’re always talking about to do that for you,” the woman Melinda now knew as Ky said back.

Was her name really Ky? Interesting name if it was, but Melinda couldn’t think about that now. She needed to introduce Henry to the group and get them some food to start off the tour. Once Henry had given his ostentatious presentation, as he usually did, he went to supply everyone in the group with samples of their various sandwiches, and Melinda took a moment to pull her list out of her pocket. On the piece of paper, she saw only one K name. It was Kyle Schafer. Ky. Kyle was a woman. A hot woman, who seemed to have a Jolie Schafer with her as well.

While the group ate, Melinda took in both women, recalled the comment about cute boys, and determined that they had to be related somehow. Sisters or cousins, at least. She smiled at the thought and tucked her list back into her pocket. Then, she thought of Bridgette, who had been interested in Kyle last night, and how Melinda hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

“Are we ready for the next place?” she asked when their time at Henry’s was up.

“Are we going to go to Café Du Monde?” one of the tourists asked her.

“Not on this tour. This one just takes us through the Quarter, but our Jackson Square tour covers there,” she answered. “We’re going to go to a local favorite next, though. The best Creole cuisine you’ll ever taste, I promise.”

As they walked, Melinda talked and tried not to make eye contact with Kyle, but when they got to the next location, there had only been one seat left at the bar where they were usually placed for tours, so Melinda took it and chatted up the owner while everyone sampled.

“So, do you not eat anything on these tours?” Kyle asked a few minutes later.

Melinda turned to her, smiled, and said, “Sometimes, I do.”

“Do you want some of mine? I had a big lunch.”

“Oh, no, thank you. And you had a big lunch before you went on a food tour?”

“My sister booked this. I’m mainly here because she told me to tag along.”

“The food is delicious,” Jolie noted, leaning over Kyle to be able to talk to Melinda. “That’s what she meant. She’s rude sometimes without meaning to be. Hi. I’m Jolie, the polite one in the family. This is my sister, Kyle.”

Melinda laughed softly and said, “Nice to meet you both. Are you enjoying the tour so far?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to suggest that I wasn’t. Sorry,” Kyle replied.

“It’s okay. How long have you been in New Orleans?”

“A couple of days,” Jolie said.

“Is this your first tour?”

“We did a swamp boat thing,” Kyle shared.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was surprisingly peaceful,” Kyle replied with a smile. When her sister leaned in the other direction to talk to the owner behind the bar, Kyle leaned toward Melinda. “I saw you at the bar, right? You walked past my table?”

Melinda cleared her throat and nodded.

“I thought so.” Kyle smiled warmly at her, and Melinda caught the depth of her green eyes.

“So, how long are you in town for?”

“I don’t know. She’s kind of here on vacation, but I’m here to do some family history research.”

“Your family is from here?”

“My grandparents were, yeah. My dad’s parents moved away a long time ago. My mom’s dad died years ago, but my grandma on her side passed away recently, so we’re here to take care of some things. She and our mom didn’t really talk, though, so there’s stuff I’m hoping to learn.”