Ray. “You’ve given him what he’s wanted his entire life.”
“What’s that?” Ray asked, flustered by the compliment.
Opening the passenger door for Haviland, Olivia watched the poodle hop inside and then turned back to Ray. “A family and a home. In you, he’s found both of those things.”
A few weeks later, the Bayside Book Writers donned suits and cocktail dresses and drove to Raleigh to celebrate the opening of the largest exhibit of Heinrich Kamler work ever assembled.
The museum’s illuminated gallery was packed with people. Carrying champagne glasses, they murmured to one another in discreet excitement as they studied the paintings. Laurel, who planned to interview several art connoisseurs for her next article, had actually brought Steve to the gala. The couple appeared rather stiff with each other, but Olivia noticed that Steve was serving as his wife’s photographer and seemed to be enjoying the role. He’d show her the images he’d captured while she scribbled quotes down in a notebook.
“We’re seeing a marriage counselor,” Laurel told Olivia when Steve left the room to sample the array of heavy hors d’oeuvres in the lobby. The two women stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the painting that had started it all; the snow scene of the cabin in the woods.
“I’m glad to see you together tonight,” Olivia said, and surprisingly, she meant it. She pointed at the cabin on the hill. “Maybe you and Steve could find a place like that and hide away for a few days.”
Laurel nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. One of my friends has a cabin in Boone. I bet she’d let me borrow it for a long weekend.” Her blue eyes grew watery, and she spoke so quietly that Olivia barely heard her. “I wonder what it’s like, to know a love that powerful.”
Olivia gave her friend’s hand a brief squeeze.
“During our interview, Wheeler told me about the art lessons he gave Evelyn. They were chaperoned at first, but after a few months, the guards gave them more and more space. It was as if the whole camp wanted to believe that the two of them could make it together, despite the odds.” Laurel dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Everyone shared in their story, everyone wanted to play a part in the fantasy. I guess a world at war has no magic left.”
“No. Their world was filled with propaganda and rations and uniformed men at the front door, holding telegrams,” Olivia said softly. “But Heinrich and Evelyn were the antithesis of all that—they were young and full of laughter and as bright as the stars.”
Catching a tear with the tip of her finger, Laurel sighed. “It was the hardest article I’ve ever had to write. It was nearly impossible to remain objective.”
“You did an amazing job,” Olivia said. “What did Steve think of the job offers you got from papers in Raleigh and Charlotte?”
Laurel smiled. “He asked me if I wanted to leave Oyster Bay, especially after all that’s happened to our town, but I told him that I loved every inch of it. Even the ugly parts. We’re not going anywhere.” She winked at Olivia. “In fact, the retired schoolteacher I hired to watch the twins started work this week. The boys are crazy about her.”
“Who’s crazy?” Harris inquired, joining the women in front of the winter scene.
Millay materialized seconds later, a vision of jade green silk, and took the arm Harris offered. He looked every inch the southern gentleman in a tux with a white jacket, and Olivia gazed at him fondly. Having been with him when he’d been shot, having pressed her shirt against his wound, she would forever feel protective of Harris Williams.
“Harris! You could be the next James Bond!” Laurel exclaimed. “Very debonair.”
Dipping his chin in recognition of the compliment, Harris produced a rose from the inside of his jacket and presented it to Millay. She rolled her eyes and pretended to be embarrassed but accepted the flower. Snapping off the stem, she put the rose behind her ear, a splash of red against the canvas of her black hair. Olivia did not miss the smile in Millay’s eyes as she shot a quick look at Harris.
The entire party turned their attention back to the Kamler snow scene until Millay crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “Does anyone want to tell me what happened to Plumley’s sequel?”
When Olivia didn’t answer, Harris scowled at Millay. “You don’t have to talk about those things tonight, Olivia. We’re here to enjoy the art and some champagne and each other’s company, remember?”
“It’s all right, Harris. I know that it can be difficult to move forward without having a complete picture.” Olivia waved her friends over to the next painting—a scene of a lone fisherman in a small skiff. Though his line was in the water, the man’s upper body was slightly hunched over, giving the impression that he’d gone to sleep, lulled by the gentle waves and the soft sunlight.
“This isn’t something you can publish, Laurel,” Olivia began and pointed at the fisherman. “Wheeler gathered all of Nick’s materials—his notebooks, laptop, thumb drives, and so on and stuffed them into a garbage bag. Later, he dumped the whole collection into the ocean.”
Harris rubbed his chin and stared at Olivia, perplexed. “Come on, Nick must have had backup drives in his Beaufort house.”
Olivia shook her head. “It’s been searched.”
“What about a remote storage unit? His laptop was a Mac. He
“All I know is that Plumley’s agent has called Rawlings a dozen times, pleading with him to turn Wheeler’s house inside out in search of the tiniest remnant of the manuscript,” Olivia said. “And the police did look, but there was nothing there. Ray gave them free range in both the house and the bagel shop. That story is now at the bottom of the sea.”
Millay shrugged. “Maybe that’s the best place for it. Creates some empty shelf space for some new writers to fill. Here’s to us getting back to work next week.” She raised her glass, and the four friends toasted one another. “Where is Rawlings, anyway? I haven’t seen him for ages.”
“I haven’t either,” Olivia answered. “And he must really need a break. I called to see if he wanted a ride to tonight, but he told me he wasn’t up for a public event just yet. I think he’s bone weary.”
The writers fell silent, listening to the hum of the polished crowd as they strolled around the gallery. Steve appeared and slid an arm around Laurel’s waist, easing her away to view the photography exhibit in the next hall. Millay and Harris moved off as well, drifting toward an outdoor courtyard flooded with moonlight and the heady scent of Carolina jasmine.
Olivia glanced at her watch. It was still quite early, but she decided to leave. Shala had graciously agreed to let Haviland nap in her office and, at Olivia’s request, had emptied out the freezer in the staff room for the evening. Olivia retrieved both the poodle and the cooler she’d been storing in the freezer and left the museum.
She did not drive home to Oyster Bay but sped down the quiet highway, her air-conditioning blasting cold air onto the cooler on the floor of the passenger seat. Knowing that its contents were at risk of melting before she reached Beaufort, Olivia drove well over the speed limit, the black asphalt slipping beneath her tires as Haviland dozed in the backseat.
Luckily, the cemetery wasn’t gated and a caretaker had given Olivia excellent directions on how to find Evelyn White’s grave. Holding a battery-powered flashlight in one hand and the cooler in the other, Olivia knelt down on the grass before an unremarkable marble marker.
“This is from your Henry,” she whispered into the still air and removed the cooler lid. Inside were the gallon- sized plastic bags of snow she and Michel had made using dry ice in The Boot Top’s kitchen the day before.
Now, with Haviland watching at a safe distance, his head cocked to the side in curiosity, Olivia opened the first bag and carefully sprinkled the chilled flakes over Evelyn’s grave.
“This is snow, Evelyn,” Olivia said. “He promised that one day, he’d give you snow. Here it is.”
The thin coating of pure white twinkled in the light of the moon, shimmering briefly before the thirsty ground began to absorb it.
Olivia dusted the gravestone and grass with all that she had left inside the cooler. She only paused for a moment to look at the magical glint of the white crystals, but their beauty was not for her. They were Evelyn’s gift, so Olivia turned away before she could see them melt.
She never looked back. All she wanted was to return to Oyster Bay feeling as she did at this moment. Her heart was full of hope, of promise. It was as if some of the pain and grief of the past month had been washed clean
