“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she teased as she picked up the familiar menu.
Harris blushed. “I went in really early, actually. Couldn’t sleep any more, so I figured I might as well work.” He studied her face. “Are you okay? I know you were really scared when Haviland went missing.”
Olivia did her best to look unperturbed by the memory. “Somehow, Atlas must have led him into one of the offices down the side hall and locked him in. In short, my brilliant dog was duped. For the second time, if one counts the drugged ground beef incident as well.”
Haviland sniffed and turned his head toward the front window.
“I think you’ve offended him,” Harris whispered solemnly.
“Nothing a rasher of bacon won’t cure.” Olivia waved at Dixie who had just emerged through the swinging kitchen door bearing plates loaded with cheeseburgers, meat loaf, sandwiches, and fried fish filets. She sighed. “The diner seems so unchanged, as though its occupants weren’t aware of the three murders committed in our town. If only it were as simple as ordering one’s next meal...”
Harris grinned ruefully. “I’m finding this chocolate milk shake very consoling.”
“But it’s not that easy,” Olivia continued as though her friend hadn’t spoken. “There will be statements to be taken and given, lawyers to engage, trials to drag on, and all the while, the insatiable hunger of the media.”
Olivia fell silent. For once, she didn’t know what she felt like eating. The idea of consuming eggs turned her stomach and the lunch platters were too gluttonous for her tastes. The salads were rather bland as Grumpy had a penchant for serving half a head of iceberg lettuce with a couple of cherry tomatoes and thick slices of yellow onions. Upon this leafy pile, he’d then scatter a dozen croutons and a sprinkle of bacon bits. Skipping the salad selections, Olivia tried to decide whether she wanted a fruit plate with cottage cheese or a tuna melt with a side of slaw.
Dixie appeared and plunked a glass of homemade limeade next to Olivia’s hand. “I know that look,” she said. “You don’t know what to order, do you? Don’t worry, sugar. Dixie will fix you right up. Haviland too.” She skated forward and took Haviland’s snout in her small, wide hands. “I saw you go after that bad man. You are the bravest dog in the entire state of North Carolina. I’m going to have Grumpy fry up a nice, rare steak for you. Pour a little gravy on it and serve it with a side of my finest tap water. How does that sound, my hero?”
Haviland barked, causing the heads of all the outsiders to swivel in his direction.
“He’s a workin’ dog!” Dixie called out by way of explanation. “It’s within his rights to be here, so don’t be makin’ any faces at him.” She touched Olivia’s back and stared down the journalists. “She’s got a whole list of disabilities, this one. So say a prayer for her and eat your food.”
Chastised, the curious diners dropped their eyes to their plates and instantly began to talk to one another about the weather. Olivia and Harris snickered as several exchanges about the heat wave circulated through the room as though the subject were being pushed around and around by the ceiling fans.
“Now I understand why you park in so many reserved spaces.” Harris grinned and took a slurp of his shake. He jabbed at an unyielding lump of ice cream with his straw. “So I’ve mentioned before that I write code for computer games, right?” The laughter had gone out of his voice. “Well, right now my team is busy creating the backgrounds for the game’s dungeon scenes. If I had been working on forest scenes or village scenes or anything else, I probably could have trudged along just fine. But this morning, as I sat at the keyboard designing damp stone walls, prison cells with chains, and skeletons piled up on the dirt floors and hanging from rusty manacles, I had to get out of the office.” He paused and touched his chin. “Suddenly, I just had to breathe some fresh air and have a chocolate milk shake.”
Olivia nodded. “How’s Millay?”
Shrugging, Harris flattened his crumpled napkin on the countertop. “It’s hard to tell. She acts so tough, but I think there’s a lot going on under the surface she doesn’t want to let people see. She found the last haiku, you know.”
This was news to Olivia. “Where?”
Harris seemed pleased to be the bearer of such an interesting bit of information. “Atlas must have dropped it in the meeting room. Millay thought she was just picking up some litter. She had already gathered up gum wrappers from those girls. I guess she has a thing against littering. Anyway, she picked up the paper and unfolded it and we both read the poem.”
“Do you remember the words?” Olivia asked doubtfully.
Setting his phone on the counter, Harris pressed a few buttons and three lines of text appeared in the display window. Olivia read them aloud.
A rotten tree falls
Letting in enough light—
For the sapling to grow
“Autumn,” she murmured. “This poem comes closer to following the rules than the summer haiku. It’s interesting and rather disturbing that he wanted to improve as a poet.” Her eyes returned to the first few words. “I take it Blake Talbot is the rotten tree. Atlas planned to shoot him and watch as his body toppled over like a felled tree. Then Atlas’s daughter, the sapling, would receive more sunlight. No one would hold back her burgeoning rise to fame and fortune.”
“Somehow, I don’t think Heidi’s feeling too grateful at the moment,” Harris concluded as Dixie arrived with Olivia’s lunch. She placed a bowl of tomato soup and a plate containing a grilled cheese sandwich on the counter in front of Olivia. Whisking away the empty limeade tumbler, the intuitive proprietor set a steaming mug of hot tea next to Olivia’s hand.
“Wrap your fingers around that. You need some old-fashioned childhood food, ‘Livia. Never met a person on this earth who couldn’t start mendin’ after a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.” Dixie tucked a feather of blond hair back under her silver headband and dusted a crumb from her Little Miss Chatterbox shirt.
Olivia opened her napkin and smiled. “Dixie, you’re a precious gem hidden amid the rocks.”
Dixie snorted. “Tell Grumpy that. He’s been promisin’ to buy me a new ‘rock’ for going on ten years now.” She elbowed Harris. “If a gal ever tells you size don’t matter, she’s lying.”
Harris’s cheeks burned red.
“Aw, lamb. You don’t need to blush. I’m just messin’ with you.” Dixie was genuinely contrite.
“It’s not what you said, ma’am. I’ve got a skin condition.” Harris put his palms over his cheeks, looking miserable. “I look embarrassed or humiliated or like I’m suffering from heat stroke at least ten times a day.”
Dixie turned to Olivia. “Such a handsome boy. Reminds me a little bit of Peter Pan.” She put a hand on Harris’s back but kept her eyes on Olivia. “There’s got to be somethin’ out there to fix his skin, am I right?”
“Actually, there is,” Olivia answered brightly.
Harris shook his head “I’ve tried every topical medicine on the market. They don’t work.” He smiled at Dixie. “If I ever
Olivia touched his arm. “Personally, I’d prefer the Beast, but women your age aren’t often as wise as those of us who’ve learned what matters.” She and Dixie exchanged a wink. “And I’m not referring to creams or salves either. How would you feel about trying a laser treatment? On me, of course. It would be a favor to an aesthetician friend of mine. She’s been searching for someone with your condition to use as a test case for her pulse laser.” Olivia felt no shame in concocting such a flagrant lie. “What do you think?”
Harris’s eyes glimmered. “Cool. A pulse laser? Kind of sounds like an episode of
“I’ll call her right after lunch,” Olivia answered casually, though she was truly excited over the idea of watching Harris’s rosacea become a bad memory. “Let’s keep it a secret too. We’ll see if anyone notices when the Bayside Book Writers meet again.”
Dixie skated off and returned fifteen minutes later with Olivia’s check. Beneath the total she had written, “Softie!” followed by a goofy smiley face. Frowning, Olivia balled up the check and slapped it on top of a twenty- dollar bill.
“Come along, Haviland. Time to visit the chief. Perhaps we should have brought him a grilled cheese sandwich,” she mused as she said good-bye to Harris and stepped outside. A pair of journalists moved to follow her, but Dixie skated in front of them, blocking their path and giving Olivia and Haviland ample time to escape
