included the news that federal aid for storm cleanup had been promised, but Olivia knew that Ophelia was going to empty the town’s coffers. Oyster Bay had less than a week to reinstate itself as the picture of a seaside utopia in time for the kickoff of the Cardboard Regatta.
After making cursory inspections of her other properties, Olivia continued past the town limits and pulled in front of Dixie’s trailer complex. She found her friend barking orders at a good-looking boy of about ten and a sullen teenage girl.
“Yours?” Olivia asked with a smile when the children stomped off.
Dixie nodded. “Yep. Those are two of the tall ones. There’s two little ones ’round here somewhere, but Grumpy’s probably got them doin’ somethin’ unpleasant. He’s pretty ticked ’cause they snuck out to ride on a friend’s ATV when the eye was passin’ over and had us worried half to death.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the wrecked laundry lines and dog kennel. “Thor’s pooped in the house three times since the damned storm began. That dog is a wimp.” Dixie reached out and touched Haviland’s flank. “He doesn’t have your fine manners either, Captain.”
Haviland flashed her a toothy smile.
“Well, it looks like you and your clan are okay,” Olivia said. “I’m sending Michel on a road trip to Costco. I thought I’d see if you were in need of supplies.”
“Filet mignon, lobster tail, Vicodin,” Dixie joked. “Actually, we’re good. We had to bring home a ton of food from the diner ’cause it was gonna go bad.” She raised an eyebrow. “My stars, you
Olivia scowled. “I’ll just tell Michel to pick up some staples. Milk, eggs, bread, some birth control pills.”
Dixie laughed until she sank down on the stoop. “I really don’t have twelve kids, you know!” she shouted as Olivia drove off.
On the way to Michel’s, Olivia was surprised to see several power trucks heading into town. When she passed a trio of tree-removal trucks, she suddenly realized that without power, none of the eateries or grocery stores would be open. Where were these workers going to get food? And there wouldn’t be much of a community cleanup effort if those volunteering were distracted by hunger. Yet who could make hundreds of meals without electricity?
“Michel,” she said aloud.
Her chef’s ruddy features paled when she outlined her idea. “You’re insane! I’ve always thought you might be, but now I’m certain of it!”
Olivia ignored his protests. “Call the rest of the staff. Two men can take care of the tree in our parking lot and you can organize the shopping trip. I’ll round up some warm bodies to assemble sandwiches. Imagine being able to boss around all the people you’ve cooked for in the past. It’s your fantasy come true. They’ll finally see how hard you work and learn to appreciate your skill.” She could see the idea appealed to her chef. “We can do this.”
“For free?” Michel was astounded.
“Yes, for free. If you want to cook for a full house of paying customers this weekend, then we need to pitch in now.” Seeing that Michel wasn’t convinced, she added, “Maybe Laurel will be available to help in the kitchen. I’m sure she could use a lesson in the fine art of sandwich construction.”
Michel looked offended. “You jest, but there
“Save it for Laurel,” Olivia interrupted and handed Michel her corporate credit card. “Call me if you have any trouble.”
Leaving Michel spluttering on his doorstep, Olivia headed to Blueberry Hill Estates next. Even though she knew that visiting Laurel meant having to apologize for her recent rudeness, Olivia suspected her harried friend might be in need of a few groceries.
Laurel’s husband, Steve, answered Olivia’s knock. They’d met before, but he didn’t act as though he recognized her or the large black poodle nearly glued to her thigh. When Olivia explained that she’d come to see Laurel, Steve bellowed his wife’s name and then removed a pair of work gloves from his jeans pocket.
“Excuse me.” He brushed by Olivia, eyeing Haviland nervously. “I’ve got a hot date with a chainsaw.”
Olivia stiffened as she heard her friend’s light footsteps approach, but if she had expected Laurel to give her a cool reception, she was mistaken. Instead, the younger woman threw her arms around Olivia’s neck.
“I am
Olivia felt her face grow warm in the face of such caring. She studied Laurel’s red nose and puffy eyes. Had Laurel been crying from worry for her friends? It was possible, but Olivia sensed something more serious had pinched the skin around Laurel’s mouth. She touched her friend’s elbow. “What’s wrong?”
Sniffing, Laurel shook her head, as though frightened to give voice to what had upset her so. “I keep trying to pretend that if I don’t talk about it, I might wake up tomorrow and find out that nothing happened. That it was all just a bad dream.”
Leading Laurel into the kitchen, Olivia sat her down at the breakfast table and began to open cupboards in search of coffee.
“Please let me do that,” Laurel begged. “It’ll be easier to talk if my hands are busy.” She began to fill the coffeemaker with water. “There’s a woman I know from Dermot and Dallas’s playgroup. Her daughter, Hannah, was born a few hours after my boys.” She drew in a deep breath. “We met in the hospital and have traveled in the same circles ever since. She has two older children and is always on the move.” Pausing to count out coffee scoops, Laurel set the machine to brew and then grabbed the edge of the sink, her shoulders hunched up to her ears.
“This woman, April, took her kids to a soccer tournament in Myrtle Beach over the weekend. She stayed there Monday night to avoid the storm, and when she came home this morning she found her husband . . .” She covered her eyes with her hands and Olivia waited to hear a sordid tale of infidelity. “He’s in a coma,” Laurel surprised her by saying.
Olivia watched as Laurel turned toward the coffeepot and struggled to collect herself. “Was he injured during the storm?”
“Yes, but the hurricane didn’t club Felix on the back of the head with a seven iron.” Laurel’s eyes flashed with anger. “The person robbing his house did.”
Stunned, it took Olivia a couple of minutes to notice that Laurel served her coffee in a mug emblazoned with red hearts and a “World’s Best Mom” slogan. Laurel drank from a white mug bearing the text, “I Perform Cavity Searches.” When she put the cup down on the counter in order to add another splash of milk, Olivia could read the script on the backside of the mug. It said, “Don’t Worry, I’m a Dentist.”
Olivia was momentarily distracted from the subject at hand. Not for the first time, she wondered what kind of man Laurel’s husband was. Did that mug reflect his sense of humor? He wasn’t especially friendly when he’d opened the door. Olivia recognized that he was clearly busy, but she detected a lack of interest as well, as though anything to do with Laurel was likely to be insignificant. Stirring a bit of milk into her own coffee, Olivia vowed to do everything in her power to help Laurel become a household name in Oyster Bay. In time, Steve would view his wife with new eyes, but for now, Olivia’s role was to listen.
“If this just happened this morning, how did you find out so quickly?” she asked her friend gently.
Laurel shrugged. “Female phone tree. Christina Quimby, the woman we interviewed last week, heard the news from a woman on her tennis team. That woman, Tina, is April’s neighbor. Tina saw the ambulance and the cop cars arrive and ran next door. I bet she had the story out to twenty people before April’s husband, Felix, made it to the hospital.” Laurel gave Olivia a sad grin. “Tina might be a gossip, but at least she rushed April’s kids over to her house so they didn’t have to see their daddy being wheeled out on a stretcher or watch their mama fall apart.”
“Another robbery,” was all Olivia could think to say.
Joining her at the table, Laurel let out a long sigh. “I guess this is when I figure out if I’ve got what it takes to be a real reporter.”
“What are you planning to do?”
