sketched several designs for the menu’s cover. Olivia liked the one featuring Oyster Bay’s lighthouse and harbor in the background with a plump, mischievous-looking crab in the foreground.
“How about a sunset?” Kim asked, tapping her lips with a pencil. “It would make you feel like night’s coming on and there isn’t a better place to be come suppertime than at The Bayside Crab House. Sit out on the deck, listen to live music, and eat the best seafood in town while the sun goes down.”
Buoyed by Kim’s enthusiasm, Olivia agreed to the final design and then searched the computer for additional images and fonts.
While they worked, the noise in the kitchen escalated. Haviland had obviously been fed, as he was no longer gazing at Michel in worship, and Caitlyn was amusing herself by slowly consuming every piece of ice in her glass. Everyone was busy. Olivia felt a sense of deep satisfaction. She loved the sound of people at work.
After scanning Kim’s sketch, Olivia asked her to type up Hudson’s menu items. Once that was done, Olivia would e-mail the document to the printer along with their font choice. Kim readily agreed and began to peck at the keys one finger at a time. Not wanting to hover as Kim worked, Olivia left Haviland with the Salters and walked back out to the bar area.
“Gabe, I believe you’ve added another name to your long list of female admirers. Thank you for being kind to Caitlyn.”
Gabe acknowledged the praise with a smile and pointed at the brass clock in the shape of a ship’s wheel. He then set a tumbler filled with irregular-shaped ice cubes and two fingers’ worth of Chivas Regal Reserve on a napkin. “She’s a neat kid. Doesn’t say much, but you can tell she’s smart.” He poured a blend of tropical juices over ice in a highball glass and then added a splash of lemon-lime soda. “That’s for the other lady. Is she your . . . ?”
“Sister-in-law,” Olivia replied. “Hudson is my half brother. I didn’t even know he existed until this fall.”
Gabe paused in the act of polishing the spotless bar. “Whoa. And he’s going to move here?”
Olivia nodded and took a large sip of her drink.
Obviously sensing his employer’s reticence to elaborate on her newfound family, Gabe continued with his prep work. But after she’d collected Kim’s drink and turned toward the kitchen, he looked up from the dish he was filling with green olives and said, “It’s probably going to be weird for a while, but I’m glad you found each other. Family keeps you anchored, you know? Like the boats out that window. Even in a strong wind, they won’t be set adrift.”
Olivia was tempted to give Gabe a snide retort about bartender wisdom but knew that he meant well. She acknowledged his statement with a dip of her chin and returned to the kitchen.
Michel had just left the office, and Caitlyn was once again buried in the folds of her mother’s sundress.
“Why are you acting like this, honey?” Olivia heard Kim ask.
“I don’t like that man,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice trembling.
Kim stroked her daughter’s hair, but she didn’t look concerned. “Sweetie, he just looked scary using those big, sharp knives. But Daddy has the same ones at home. It doesn’t mean they’re going to hurt anyone. It’s just a tool, like how a barber uses scissors.”
Caitlyn scooted away, her eyes flashing. “I’m
Clearing her throat, Olivia entered the office and handed Kim her drink. She looked at Caitlyn. “Why does he scare you?” she asked very gently.
Perhaps because an adult was taking her seriously, Caitlyn answered right away. “He’s got a secret. I can tell.”
Olivia nodded. “He probably does. Most people have secrets, I think.”
Caitlyn was silent for so long that Olivia doubted she’d answer, but the little girl finally murmured, “Like Betty did. I knew she wrote you that letter. The one she sent when Grandpa got too sick to come downstairs anymore. Mom told me. She said that’s why we met you.”
Taking an involuntary step backward, Olivia recalled the mixture of anger and anguish she’d felt after reading the anonymous letter. The claim that her father was still alive coupled with the demand for one thousand dollars in cash for more information had filled her with fury. Even now, a fresh wave of hostility toward her father’s longtime friend and nurse swept over her at the memory.
Kim looked down at the floor, discomfited by the topic, but Caitlyn moved forward and took hold of Olivia’s hand. “But I’m glad she wrote it, because my daddy found a sister,” she whispered and then immediately retreated to the floor and buried her small fingers in Haviland’s fur.
After the Salters left, Olivia stood in the doorway of her office, studying Michel’s face as he shoved a live lobster deep into a pot of boiling water.
Nothing struck her as being amiss.
Chapter 3
Olivia came home from an exhilarating inspection of the refurbished harborside warehouse that would soon become The Bayside Crab House and brewed a pot of strong coffee. Carrying the coffee and a white chocolate chip biscotti to her desk overlooking the ocean, she printed out Laurel’s chapter, uncapped the green pen Harris had given each of the writers to use for critiques, and began to read.
No one ever explained what was meant by happily ever after.
I asked. Through a champagne haze, I voiced the question during my bachelorette party. My married friends exchanged lopsided, knowing smiles and murmured vague replies about the rewards of serving my husband wholesome meals, creating a home of my own, and giving birth to children.
But there was something in their eyes that betrayed their words. It was an indistinct flash, a hesitation brought on by self-doubt. I didn’t recognize what their looks meant at the time. I believed my friends were just searching for thoughtful answers.
In reality, of course, they were simply considering how much to lie to me the eve before my wedding, before I would walk down the aisle, white rose petals scattered at my feet.
They kept their secrets close. The wives.
It was my first lesson.
Later, after I became one of them, I checked off the list of the requirements they’d deemed necessary for me to live happily ever after. I cooked my husband meals that could outshine any restaurant’s, I decorated our home until it resembled a magazine spread, and I gave birth to three healthy children.
When nothing magical happened to my marriage after our third child entered the world, I began to work harder at my job. I gardened, ran for miles to turn my body into a toned work of art, and coordinated the social events sponsored by my husband’s company. I even got us accepted to the finest country club in town. My husband finally got to play golf on the course of his dreams.
And still, not a speck of glimmering fairy dust rained down onto our marital bed. There were no sparks of enchantment in my husband’s eyes when he looked at me across a candlelit table. He didn’t reach for my hand in the dark movie theater or whisper his hopes and fears across my pillow before we drifted off to sleep. We made love like it was a chore on Saturday’s to-do list. My husband never murmured my name.
Somehow, I had failed.
Olivia put down her pen, too stunned to make a single mark on Laurel’s paper.
“What is this?” she asked, flipping to the next page and skimming over the lines. “What happened to the
