with murals of tropical fish and waited on the front porch until she was inside her car.
Once she’d pulled away from the curb, Olivia whispered to her poodle, “His decor is wanting, I know.” She laughed, feeling weightless and invigorated.
Olivia spent the remainder of the night in her own bed and woke early, stretching her long limbs languidly beneath her cool, white cotton sheets.
After taking a walk, Olivia finished critiquing Millay’s chapter. She was impressed with the younger woman’s imagination and the unique voice that grew stronger with each page. Having never enjoyed the fantasy genre, Olivia found herself eager to read more of
While Olivia worked, the morning sky had grown overcast. A front was moving in from the south and by afternoon, an exhilarating summer thunderstorm would set upon the town of Oyster Bay. The rain would carry the smells of the deep ocean and childhood and everyone would welcome its arrival. Even the tourists would smile as it fell, watching from porch rockers or from covered balconies as they sipped coffee and propped paperbacks on their thighs.
As Olivia placed Millay’s chapter into a folder, the phone rang. Flynn’s voice rumbled through the speaker, his low baritone sounding like a distant train or the surf splashing over a jetty of stones. Olivia gravitated toward it but made no move to pick up the phone. Flynn kept his call brief, merely thanking her for last night and inviting her to join him for dinner. Olivia wasn’t ready to see him again just yet, so she deleted the message the moment he was finished speaking.
“Let’s take another look at the specs for the proposed housing development, Haviland. We can have a picnic lunch in the old park’s gazebo while it’s still standing.”
Haviland sat on his haunches and raised his eyebrows high, questioning her decision.
“Why, you ask? Because if I feel like going to war for the current park I’d like to be armed with all the information I can get my hands on. I can’t influence Ed Campbell, our local mortgage man, but I could possibly sway Roy or Grumpy.”
Yawning, Haviland turned toward the door.
Irritated by this show of disinterest, Olivia scowled. “I should have adopted a nice mixed breed from the ASPCA! He might have been more polite. You don’t have to be so cross just because you had to eat dog food for breakfast. You
Haviland ignored her. The two drove into town without making eye contact and only when Olivia stopped at Bagels ‘n’ Beans to buy an egg salad sandwich on a sesame seed bagel did the poodle attempt to make amends.
Placing his nose against her palm, he nudged her hand and then opened his liquid brown eyes wide as she glanced down at him. “That teddy bear look might work on old ladies and little children, but you’re not fooling me for a second.”
Wheeler overheard the exchange and, grinning, prepared a turkey and cheese lettuce wrap for Haviland even though Olivia hadn’t asked for one. As he was particularly fond of the poodle, he added two pieces of bacon to the dog’s customary order.
“This is to go, Wheeler,” Olivia said.
“You havin’ lunch outside?” the old man asked. “There’s gonna be a storm within the hour. The ache in my left hip says it’s movin’ fast, so get this down your throat by one o’clock, ya hear?”
Olivia smiled. With all the barometric body parts in Oyster Bay, no one needed The Weather Channel. The locals had ancient ways of predicting the weather and they seemed to be far more accurate than anything Doppler radar could produce. Olivia trusted Wheeler’s hip, the pouf in Dixie’s hair, and all the fishermen’s forecasts without question.
“I’m just going to the Neuse River Park,” she answered. “I haven’t spent much time there since I’ve been back and I’d like to sit there awhile.”
“You gotta figure out which way you’re gonna vote,” Wheeler stated as though he had second sight. “Sittin’ a spell will make things clear, I reckon.”
Olivia shook her head in wonder. “You’re nearly as informed about Oyster Bay’s goings-on as Dixie.”
Shrugging, Wheeler placed a paper bag filled with the two sandwiches, a plump apple, and half a dill pickle on the counter. “I just keep my antenna up, is all.” He held on to the bag and met her gaze. “That real estate man has been lookin’ for you. The slick Yankee fellow who’s too high and mighty to order his own coffee.”
“Dean Talbot.” Olivia wasn’t surprised. Even though his proposal was likely to pass, the man was shrewd enough to feel out every member of the Planning Board. “If he comes in today, go ahead and tell him where I’ve gone. I’ll be at the restaurant after the park. I’d rather
Wheeler nodded. “I know you can take care of yourself, Miss Olivia, but you watch out for that one. He’s used to gettin’ his way. I’ve seen men like him before. They can turn from snake charmer to the snake quick as a lightnin’ strike.”
Moved by Wheeler’s concern, Olivia reached across the counter and touched the man’s leathery cheek. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle snakes,” she stated firmly. “Especially the ones that come out into the open.”
Haviland snarled as if to remind the pair of humans that he was no pushover either. Both of them laughed, breaking the serious mood. Wheeler moved away to serve his next customer and Olivia headed for the town hall. She dashed inside to pick up a copy of the drawings of the proposed community park as well as current maps showing the town’s utilities, water, sewage, and zoning data.
She was carefully studying these maps in the shade of the Neuse River Park’s vandalized gazebo when a rental car pulled in next to the Range Rover.
Haviland, who had settled down at Olivia’s feet in order to digest his sandwich, leapt to his feet, his hackles rising.
It was an unusual reaction on the poodle’s part and Olivia steeled herself for a confrontation. Haviland must have sensed an aura of animosity from one or both of the car’s occupants.
Max Warfield and Dean Talbot slammed the doors of their black Lincoln Town Car and glanced around the park as they attempted to locate their quarry. Olivia remained still, watching them.
As usual, Max wore a tailored business suit, but Dean was more casual in tan slacks, a green polo shirt, and hiking boots. As he drew nearer, Olivia could see that the baseball hat he wore was embroidered with the logo of an exclusive golf club in Scotland. His mirrored sunglasses made it impossible to tell what he was thinking as he headed Olivia’s way. Max followed closely behind his boss, dabbing at his perspiring brow with a wad of tissues.
“You’re a hard woman to find,” Dean stated without preamble as he mounted the gazebo’s first step. “May I come in, Ms. Limoges? I don’t want to interrupt your meal.”
“Do what you like,” Olivia responded ungraciously. “This is public property. At least for the time being.”
Haviland bared his teeth.
The real estate tycoon looked at the poodle with disingenuous amusement. “Does your dog see me as a threat?”
Olivia folded up the map she’d been studying. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“Not at all. Our proposition is sound.” He gestured at the maps. “However, I’m glad to see you doing your research. It makes our job easier when we’re dealing with informed board members.” Dean leaned with deliberate nonchalance against the support post, and Olivia was satisfied to keep a measure of space between them. Being on higher ground than the ambitious real estate mogul and his crony made Olivia feel as though she had an advantage. Haviland’s proximity also solidified her sense of confidence. She wasn’t afraid of either man, but this was her town
