Chapter 17

“I found this huge metal badge that probably hung over the front door of some jail or sheriff’s office or something during the late 1800s.” David flipped to another black and white shot. The badge was gigantic.

“How big is it?” Fredi asked.

“Maybe four feet tall. Maybe a little bigger.” David shrugged. “Anyway, I thought it would look good either hanging outside with the restaurant name on it or embedded in the entryway floor. What do you think?”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. Now all I need is a name for this place.” I was impressed. He’d come up with something I could live with.

“Uh, yeah. I was thinking it could be the Silver Star.” His eyes shone uneasily, as if he thought I might be about to stomp all over his ideas.

“Yeah. Okay.” I was already planning the menu. Something mixing downhome Western fare—grilled meat, beans, potato salad, real cowboy fare—with California cuisine. Asparagus comfit, artichoke soup, dried mixed-berry rice. Yeah, it could work.