come back. Kim’ll do the books. She can’t boil an egg, but she’s got a good head for numbers.”
“Can she handle that responsibility with a newborn at home?” Olivia had asked.
“She’s juggled more than that before. We’ll make this place our second home, you’ll see.” Hudson had put a hand on her shoulder to reinforce his point, and for once, Olivia backed down. She could tell that her brother and his wife were completely dedicated to seeing that The Bayside Crab House was a success.
So far, Kim had managed the preopening pressure without difficulty, but her due date was only days away, and tonight she was looking worn to a nub. When she came into the kitchen to fetch extra bowls of melted butter, she leaned heavily on the counter near Caitlyn. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and the skin on her face had a sallow tinge. When Olivia looked down at her sister-in-law’s ankles, she gasped.
“Kim, look how swollen you are!” Olivia pushed a stack of empty crates across the floor and gestured at them. “Sit down on this stool and put your feet up this instant. I’ll bring the damn butter out.” She locked eyes with Caitlyn. “You watch your mother. Do not let her get up. Your shift is over, Kim!” Olivia was angry with Hudson, not Kim, and forced herself to speak more gently. “Thank you for arranging this for me. I’m really thrilled by all you and Hudson have accomplished, but you need to go home. I don’t want my niece or nephew being born on my new floor.”
Outside, Olivia dumped the butter unceremoniously on the table and glared at Hudson. “Your wife needs to lie down. Her legs look like tree trunks, and she’s so exhausted she can barely hold her head up.”
Hudson didn’t respond. Instead, he shrugged and took a long pull from his beer bottle. As Olivia felt her indignation mounting, Rawlings put a hand on Hudson’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of the dishes. It’s the least we can do after you’ve served us a feast fit for Poseidon himself.” He gave Hudson a coaxing smile. “Go on, man. You deserve to spend the rest of this fine evening watching a ball game on TV.”
Laurel and Millay hugged the gruff cook, and he was clearly startled to be the recipient of their affection. He didn’t return the embraces, but there was a smile in his eyes and he gave Olivia a nearly imperceptible nod as he passed.
Olivia turned to Rawlings, wanting to demonstrate her gratitude with a look, but his eyes were focused on the remnants of food on his plate. For a moment, she wished they were alone together. No friends, no musicians, no family members, just the two of them sharing a meal beneath the open sky and the glimmer of tiny white lights.
Yet she’d decided to push him away, closing herself off to possible heartbreak. Her life was too complicated for anything other than a one-night stand, and she knew that Rawlings would never enter into a shallow relationship. He wanted to know her, body and soul, and she’d placed her privacy above his feelings.
As she watched Rawlings now, however, she felt her flesh humming with desire for him. She imagined being pressed against his bearlike chest, exposing deeply concealed feelings to the man, but fantasy was as far as she was willing to go.
The mention of Nick Plumley’s name brought an end to Olivia’s ruminations.
“What did you say?” she asked Harris.
“Nick’s coming over to pick up my manuscript on Tuesday. He’s going to read the whole thing! Isn’t that awesome?”
Olivia raised her brows. “He’s coming to the office or to your house?”
“The house. He’s going to hang out and read while I paint the living room. I told him I’d taken a personal day from work and that things were going to be chaotic because the floor guys will be laying tile in the kitchen and removing the nasty carpet from the stairs.” Harris winked at her. “All thanks to a friend who gave me a grade-A, killer housewarming present.”
“How sweet of Mr. Plumley,” Laurel stated, stacking dirty dishes into a tall pile. “We all think of him as this rich and famous novelist, but he’s only human, and it sounds like he’s looking to make some new friends.” She grabbed the stack of dishes and headed inside, signaling the end of the party.
After making sure she and the Bayside Book Writers had left the restaurant kitchen spotlessly clean, Olivia and Haviland headed home. Instead of going inside, the pair strolled along the beach. Olivia removed her shoes and stepped into the cold water, staring at the distant lights of the boats in the harbor and the illuminated windows of town buildings.
Olivia considered Laurel’s words about the celebrity writer. Was Plumley lonely? Had she completely misjudged him? Being a writer could be a lonely existence, and not everyone cherished solitude like she did. Perhaps he was looking for a little companionship.
By the time Haviland was ready to call it a night, Olivia had grown bored of brooding.
“I’m a hypocrite,” she told the poodle. “Just because Plumley’s rich and acts a bit eccentric doesn’t mean he’s full of character flaws. People have judged me by the same standards and I’ve resented them for it. Starting tomorrow, I will try to get to know Nick Plumley. Maybe then, he’ll willingly share his secrets.”
After kissing Haviland on the nose, Olivia collected her shoes and turned toward home, where she planned to slip between her cool, clean sheets and allow the whisper of the surf to ease her into a dreamless sleep.
It would be the last restful night she would have for a long time to come.
Chapter 5
By Tuesday, Olivia hadn’t even looked at the chapter she was supposed to e-mail to her critique group by Friday morning. The Bayside Crab House was set to have its grand opening on Friday night, and a million tiny details had to be seen to before the mayor cut the yellow ribbon and eager diners were treated to a half-price menu and a free pint of beer.
From the beginning, Olivia decided that the crab house would not accept reservations. The new hostess was trained to create a wait list and encourage hungry patrons to linger in the bar until their names were called. It was a time-honored trick in the restaurant business to funnel customers into the bar, as the sale of alcohol was more profitable than that of the food. Of course Olivia planned to sell a great deal of both and hoped to create a loyal customer base like The Boot Top Bistro enjoyed.
After a brisk walk on the beach, Olivia drove into town and headed to Grumpy’s for breakfast, which she planned to follow by a marathon writing session. She dined on a short stack of fluffy whole-wheat pancakes bursting with tart raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries. Haviland filled his belly with scrambled eggs and beef and then stretched out on the floor to take a nap. Olivia smiled indulgently as the poodle got comfortably settled, and then booted up her laptop. She read the last couple of paragraphs she’d written and the diner quickly faded away as the world of her Egyptian courtesan drew her in.
In Olivia’s previous chapter, the mighty and powerful pharaoh, Ramses the Great, had decided to include Kamila in the small entourage accompanying him on a trip to Thebes. The king planned to inspect the progress of his tomb and to make certain that the priests he’d hired to care for the tomb of his father, Seti I, were being diligent in their duties.
Kamila traveled with the other high-ranking servants and did not see the king. She wasn’t called to Pharaoh’s tent until the third night of their stay in Thebes, and only then was she washed, oiled, perfumed, and dressed in a nearly transparent white shift. A wig was placed on her shaved head, and her eyes were rimmed with kohl and painted with a powder of green malachite. Lastly, a ring of lotus blossoms encircled her neck. The king was particularly fond of the flower’s heady scent.
Olivia was so lost in the scene that the sounds of clinking silverware and conversation fell away. Raising her
