At a few points along the Columbus Riverwalk, we pass by a variety of interesting sculptures and several informational plaques. Grant keeps stopping to read them, and each time the TAPS team pauses and waits for him.

Finally Grant waves his hand. "You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up."

I pause for a few seconds, torn between following the rest of the group, and finding out more about the history of this area.

"You coming, Summer?" Amy calls.

Making up my mind, I shake my head. "I'll stay with Grant... I want to finish reading the rest of the signs too."

Grant smiles at me. "You enjoy history?"

"I do... that was my favorite subject in school. I guess that's one of the reasons I enjoy being a photojournalist so much... I like capturing bits of the history of different places."

We're quiet for a long while after that. Grant and I wander around one of the monuments, reading about it and studying the various maps and diagrams on display. I'm engrossed in a story about one of the old textile mills located along the river when I hear Grant say, "You're good for them."

At first, I think he's started reading one of the informational plaques out loud; then I realize he's addressing me. "Huh?"

"I said, you're good for the team."

"I... I am?" I'm confused now. "Good how?"

Grant lifts one shoulder and gives me a half smile. "Have you noticed how protective Kris and Amy are of you? And Steve and Dave are constantly trying to outdo each other to make you laugh. Dustin certainly seems to have taken you under his wing. As for Jay and I..." he laughs now, his brown eyes taking on a rare sparkle. "I haven't played hopscotch since I was... I don't know, five? You even managed to convince Jay to join in."

I giggle at the thought. "But I didn't really try to get anyone to play."

"Well, that's the thing. You just keep being yourself, openly and honestly, and people enjoy being around you because of your positive attitude and because you know how to have fun... and, make no mistake, Summer, you're good for the team in other ways too. You have sharp eyes, you pay close attention to detail, and your strengths balance out those of the other crew members. Take the incident with the bat."

I grin at that one, and Grant continues. "Jay and I knew from the start that you'd be a good fit for this team... I just don't think we realized how well you'd fit."

I'm so flustered by Grant's praise that I can't think of a thing to say, so I just stare at the ground and scrape the toe of my sneaker against the concrete.

Seeing my embarrassment, he changes the subject. "Ready to catch up with the rest of the team?"

I nod, and fall into step with Grant's long strides as we branch away from the trail and head back to the main road.

After a minute or two of walking in silence, I manage to find my voice again. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

We're silent for another while, and then I speak up again. "That's what makes this the best day ever."

"Oh? How's that?" Grant is looking ahead to where he's going, but I can tell he's really listening to what I'm saying. For some reason, I've always been less intimidated by Grant than by Jason. Even though I really like Jason, Grant is just a little bit easier to talk to.

"Well, being a part of the TAPS family. I love investigating, but I also love this; just being able to hang out with people that don't think I'm too weird." I grin to show that I'm mostly joking, and Grant answers with a smile of his own.

"We're happy to be part of your... what was the word?"

"Ohana?"

"Yeah, that's it. Hey, there's the rest of the team."

"Our historians have returned," Amy teases as Grant and I catch up. "I expect that you know the whole history of the river now?"

"Of course," Grant says easily, and winks at me.

As we resume our walk, on the sidewalk instead of beside the river this time, Jason finally reveals the surprise he and Grant have in store for us: we have reservations at a well-known French restaurant for supper.

"They're apparently famous for their fondue," Grant, who's quite the chef himself, remarks. "They also serve a pretty wide variety of seafood, as well as traditional French cuisine."

Everyone else is thrilled, but I, of course, panic. "Kris!" I whisper urgently. "Do we have to dress up? I didn't bring anything fancy to wear."

"I'm not really sure...Jason? Do we have to dress up?"

Jason glances back over his shoulder at us. "Nah, what you have on is fine. The atmosphere is very casual and laid-back, from what I hear."

I breathe such a loud sigh of relief that Kris smiles at me. "Nothing like wearing jean shorts to a place where we're expected to wear ball gowns or something," I joke.

"I can't imagine wearing a ball gown in this heat," Amy comments.

"I can't imagine bringing a ball gown on an investigation," Kris responds.

"I can't imagine wearing a ball gown, period," Tango teases, and all three of us girls make a face at him.

After stopping at the hotel to freshen up, we squeeze into one Yukon yet again for our trip to the restaurant.

Upon arrival, I notice with surprise that it's a low, unassuming brick building. Except for the wide windows with specials displayed prominently, you'd hardly know this is an upscale restaurant. The only available parking is on the street, next to a run-down bus stop.

Once inside the building, though, I'm surprised at the contrast. Neat white tablecloths cover the tables, the walls are painted a calming shade of blue-gray, and various paintings and photographs of places in France are displayed prominently.

We're seated at a large round table close to the windows, but far enough away that we won't have the afternoon sun in our eyes. I notice that there's quite a bit of shuffling and jockeying for positions at the table, but I don't pay much attention.

I end up between Steve and Jason, with Tango directly across from me. Our waiter is a small, slender man with a handlebar mustache straight out of the 1800s and a decided Parisian accent, who seems delighted to hear that we've come to try the famous fondue.

"Well, Summer, what did I tell you?" teases Grant, after the waiter hurries back to the kitchen. "Toasted bread and melted cheese... This place should be right up your alley."

"Okay, okay, so I was wrong. You can make grilled cheese even more gourmet." I smile at Grant. I have the feeling that he and Jason picked this place especially with me in mind.

"You might have to help us out here, Summer," Steve observes, studying the menu. "I seem to recall you saying you speak some French."

I take a peek at my own menu. "Most of this is in English," I correct him.

"Says you. What the heck is a boo-din no-ear?"

"A what?" I snort a laugh into my water glass, almost choking on a swallow. I lean forward to try to see what he's reading, and he jabs the menu with his finger.

I give him a smug look. "That, Mr. Tech Manager, is boudin noir, and it's a blood sausage."

"What kind of blood?" Kris looks a little green.

"Usually pork, or sometimes beef."

"I think I'll pass," she says with a shudder.

"Say it again, Summer?" Dustin rests his elbows on the table as I slowly repeat the name of the dish. He imitates my pronunciation quite well.

"Have you ever eaten that?" Amy wants to know.

"A couple of times, when we visited my aunt in Quebec. It's more common there than in New Brunswick. It's not bad, actually... pretty much like a regular sausage."

"I think we'll take your word for it," Grant says with a chuckle.

I give him a mischievous look and quote his earlier words back to him. "Where's your sense of adventure?" He laughs delightedly.

"So, Summer," Dustin asks. "Have you ever had fondue before?"

"I haven't, actually," I admit. "My cousin had a chocolate fountain that they called 'fondue' at his wedding, but I have the feeling that's not the same thing at all."

Tango and Steve exchange smirks, and I glance quizzically at them before turning my attention back to Dustin, who's explaining the "Fondue Rules".

"The first thing you need to remember is to move your fork in a figure 8 when you dip it in the pot," Dustin instructs. "That keeps the cheese well-stirred so it doesn't burn. Begin with the bread, and twirl it over the pot until it stops dripping."

I nod seriously.

"Oh, and never eat directly from your fondue fork... the tines are pretty sharp. Plus it's just bad manners."

"You missed the most important rule," Tango points out. Dustin ignores him, and Jason grumbles faintly. I look from one to the other in confusion.

"What's the most important rule?"

Tango gives me a devilish grin. "Don't let any food fall off your fork. If you drop your bread in the pot, you have to kiss the person on your left."

"On the lips?!" I'm horrified.

Tango laughs hard. "No, Puck. Just on the cheek."

Somehow I get the feeling Tango's pulling my leg. I glare suspiciously at him, and then turn my gaze on Kris. "Kris? Is that true?"

Her shoulders are shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "Yes," she manages.

I'm still not totally convinced, so I appeal to one of the two people that I'm pretty sure will tell me the truth. "Jason?"

He shakes his head as if he's starting to reconsider the decision to eat here. "It's... customary," he finally allows. "You have no worries about me, though... Grant and I are both married, and we're not kissing anybody."

Well, that takes care of my right side, anyway.

I take a peek at the person on my left... Steve. He pretends to study the menu, but gives me a sidelong glance... and now I realize what all the pushing and shoving when it came to picking seats was about. I quickly duck my head and study my lap, aware that my face is turning red.

If you think I'm kissing you, Steve Gonsalves, you have another think coming. I vow then and there that no food will be falling off my fork this evening.

When the fondue arrives, I busy myself with unfolding my napkin and watching covertly as Jason picks up his fondue fork. I study the way he holds it, stabs a cube of toasted bread, swirls it in the cheese, and brings it back to his plate.

Simple. No muss, no fuss. Okay, Summer... you can do this.

I cautiously spear a piece of bread, stabbing it a little harder than necessary and even giving it a little shake to make absolutely sure that it won't fall off. Amy snickers, but I ignore her and dip my bread into the melted cheese.

Figure of 8, Dustin said.

I carefully draw a figure of 8, coating my piece of bread and then attempting to lift it from the pot. Long strings of melted cheese trail from the square of toasted bread, and I twirl my fork several times in an effort to get rid of them. Finally I maneuver the cheesy bread back to my plate without dripping anything on the tablecloth. Success!

The cube of bread is a bit too big to make a comfortable mouthful, so I delicately cut it in half and take a bite. Oh... my... goodness.

"Good?" Grant is watching me with an indulgent smile.

I hold up my finger, signaling him to wait a moment so I can swallow. "This is incredible. I think I'm going to have to buy a fondue pot. I may never go back to eating grilled cheese again."

"The menu says they use three kinds of cheese for the fondue," Kris observes. "They also add white wine and truffle oil... wow, no wonder this is so good."

Bread isn't the only thing being served with this fondue: there are also dishes of vegetables, cubes of cured meat and sausage, and even a dish of apple slices. I've never really thought about it, but apparently lots of things taste good smothered in melted cheese.

I'm just getting ready to poke my fork into a roasted baby potato, when I hear Kris make a faint sound of distress. I quickly glance up to see her trying to regain control of a Brussels sprout that's popped off the end of her fork and landed in the cheese.

"Too bad, Kris," Steve says smoothly. "You know the rules."

I see Kris dart a look at Tango, sitting on her left, and flush a bright pink. I actually feel sorry for her.

Tango raises an eyebrow at her, and she glares at him and then gives a long-suffering sigh. Tango presents his cheek with a flourish, and she gives him a quick peck and then stuffs a piece of bread in her mouth.

Everyone applauds, and Kris takes the teasing good-naturedly.

Oh my gosh, Summer... do not... drop... anything!

Jason is the next one to lose something in the pot. There's an awkward silence, and I can tell that several team members are holding back their joking remarks out of respect.

Jason calmly fishes his piece of bread out of the pot, returns it to his plate... and then glances at me and makes a lip-smacking sound in my direction. I burst into giggles, and the silly gesture dissolves the tension.

Mentally, I cheer myself on each time I make a successful dip into the pot without dropping anything.

See? You can do this. Not so hard after all.

I should know better than to relax my guard. The next time I dip a piece of bread in the pot, it tumbles off the end of my fork and lands with a plop in the cheese.

Don't look up... don't say anything... maybe no one noticed. Maybe you can kind of scoop it up...

"Summer dropped one!" Tango announces to the table, and I grit my teeth.

Dave Tango, if you weren't all the way across the table from me, I'd clout you a good one.

"Oooooo, Summer," teases Kris, and I look at her in surprise. She's usually the most sympathetic one of the bunch.

"Rules are rules," needles Tango.

Beside me, Jason leans over and says under his breath, "You know this is just for fun, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"

I nod shakily, but my mind is protesting, Don't have to? Of course I have to. I can't be the only spoilsport.

I'm looking at the tablecloth, my lap, the fondue pot... anywhere except at Steve. Finally I get up the nerve to peek over at him. He's not looking at me, but I can see his lips curling up in a faint smile.

Okay, it's just one little peck on the cheek. You can do this. No biggie.

I start to lean towards him, then chicken out and pull back as he glances quickly at me.

Summer! Get a grip!

"Go, Summer!" cheers Amy.

I take a deep breath, getting a quick whiff of cologne as I angle towards him. Even sitting, he's taller than me, and his shoulders are so broad that I have to half rise from my chair to reach him. He unobtrusively tilts his head to make it easier for me.

Gathering all my courage, I lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Then I drop back into my chair so quickly that I nearly unbalance myself.

"She's a good sport," I hear Dustin comment, but I can't look up. I have no idea if Steve is looking at me or not, or what his reaction was. My face is on fire, and I fumble with my napkin and try to calm myself. Why is your heart pounding? What's wrong with you?

I pick up my fondue fork, but lay it down again. I have to get out of here.

"Excuse me," I murmur, rising from the table.

"You okay?" Jason looks up at me with raised eyebrows.

"I... yeah. I just need to visit the ladies' room."

Glancing frantically around the room, I spot a sign that says "Les Toilettes" and make a beeline for it.

The women's washroom is, thankfully, empty. I lean against the counter, peer at myself in the mirror, and let out a sigh that echoes against the tiled walls.

What is wrong with you, Summer? It was just a quick kiss, just in fun. Everyone's doing it. What are you freaking out about?

I let out an audible groan and lean my forehead against the mirror. I don't want to go back out there... I want to crawl into a hole and I can't quite figure out what about the whole situation is so embarrassing.

The door squeaks open, and I jerk back from the mirror. But it's just Amy and Kris.

"Are you okay? We came to check on you," Amy says, blue eyes filled with concern.

Kris, on the other hand, gives me an impish look as she ducks into a stall. "Did you see Steve's face?" she crows. "He was more embarrassed by that than you were."

My blush redoubles, and I'm glad she can't see my face.

"Kris," Amy warns in an undertone.

"What? I'm just saying, Amy..."

"Leave her alone!"

I'm surprised by the sharpness in Amy's tone, and I look at her in wonder. I can't help feeling like the girls have traded spots... usually Kris is the one defending me and Amy is quietly in the background, not saying much.

Kris, however, can be as single-minded as a bulldog when she wants to be, and I can tell she's not going to let the subject drop.

"But it was so sweet!" she giggles now. I huff and turn to leave the washroom just as she emerges from the stall. Apparently I'm not going to find any more quiet in here.

"Summer?" Kris calls, but I let the door swing shut behind me. For a moment, a pang of regret goes through me. Kris is your best friend, practically, and that was pretty rude. I do my best to ignore the feeling as I return to the table.

As dinner continues, I force cheerfulness into my voice so no one suspects how discomfited I am. I tease Tango when he's forced to kiss Dustin, and do my best to enjoy the creamy lobster bisque that I've ordered as a complement to the fondue.

Several times during the course of the meal, I feel like Grant is studying me, but I pass it off as my imagination. It's not until the meal is almost over, when a few of the team members have gotten up from the table to visit the restrooms or to admire the photographs on the wall, that he speaks up.

"I'm sorry, Summer." Grant leans over Jason's empty chair to speak softly to me.

I look at him in surprise. "For what?"

"I should have realized that... that... was going to be embarrassing for you. I should have picked up on it and put a stop to it."

For a moment I'm confused, and then I rush to reassure him. "It's... it's fine! Really. I'm okay. It was kind of funny. At least everyone else thought so."

"But you didn't." It's a statement, not a question, and I squirm and look away, unable to meet his eyes.

"It's not your fault," I mumble, feeling guilty that he's somehow taking the blame for my embarrassment. I won't be able to live with myself if he feels badly about him and Jason taking us to eat here; that's just the way I am.

"I'm so glad we came," I tell him honestly, hoping he understands. "This place is amazing... I'm so glad I got to try fondue for the first time. You're right, I really did like it. I'm having a lot of fun today, Grant."

He studies me for a second longer and finally nods. "Okay then."

"Please don't feel bad," I lower my voice as Jason returns to the table.

Grant leans back in his chair and smiles at me this time.

"Everything good?" Jason glances from Grant to me with a raised eyebrow. It never ceases to amaze me how quick Grant and Jason are at picking up any hint that something might be wrong. I guess that's part of what makes them good investigators and team leaders.

"Everything's good," Grant tells him. Jason gives him a doubtful look, but doesn't say anything more.

As the rest of the team returns to the table, our waiter stops by to offer us dessert menus. I'm too full for dessert, so I sit back and listen as the others talk.

Fiddling with my straw, I poke it into my glass and push an ice cube to the bottom. I move the straw, and the ice cube floats back to the top. I repeat the action mindlessly, staring blankly at the table, not really watching what I'm doing and not really hearing what's being said either.

Inside my head, though, my thoughts are whirling. What's wrong with you? Why do you always have to be so awkward about everything? Why can't you laugh it off and move on, like everyone else? Look at them... they're already forgotten that you've kissed Steve. It was just a peck on the cheek... how is that more embarrassing than Tango having to kiss Dustin?

I smirk inwardly. Okay, that was kind of funny. It was nice to see Tango get his comeuppance for once.

Lost in thought, I don't hear a word that's being said until I hear Amy exclaim, "Ouch!"

I glance up quickly in time to see her trying to tease a knot out of her long hair with her fingers. By the look on her face, she's not having much luck.

"Should have worn a ponytail like me," Kris banters.

Amy grimaces. "You wouldn't happen to have a comb on you, would you?"

Kris frowns. "No, I don't, sorry. I left mine at the hotel."

"I have one," I volunteer, grateful for something to take my mind off of my racing thoughts. "I always carry one in my purse." Glancing around on the floor, I realize that I've left my bag in the Yukon. "Oops."

I wait patiently until Jason finishes the story he's telling Steve and Dustin. "Um, Jason? Can I have the keys to the Yukon? I need to get my bag."

"Sure," Jason reaches in his pocket. "I think I can open the door from here, actually. Let me see." He stands up and walks towards one of the large windows, and I rise from the table and follow.

He aims the remote starter at the Yukon parked alongside the curb. It beeps once, and the lights flash. "There you go, Summer. Lock the doors again when you're ready to come back in, will you?"

"Of course. Thanks, Jason."

"No problem."