by Ellery Adams
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 are of the canine species, Captain, regardless of how intelligent you are.”
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 not have him knocking on my door at home.”
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 they sought to change and she wanted to come to a decision without their influence.
“Since you’ve come all this way to see me, I’ll tell you exactly what I think of your proposal. While the new park seems to be quite people-friendly, it does not provide an equitable habitat for the wildlife that will be displaced from the current park. There is a great deal more marsh-land here.” She watched their faces closely for signs of irritation or anger, but both men kept their expressions guarded. “And I cannot approve of the burial ground’s destruction. I think you should build around it. If someone doesn’t want to live in a house too close to it, then surround the graveyard with additional green space.” She tapped one of the maps. “I consider Cottage Cove’s current amount to be minimal, at best.”
“You’ve raised valid points, Ms. Limoges, but surely you agree that this new Talbot community means homes, jobs, and revenue for Oyster Bay,” Dean replied pleasantly. “The fishing industry is waning. As a native of the town and the daughter of a fisherman, I’
d have thought you’d want new opportunities to be available to the men who work from sunup to sundown and still can’t make ends meet”
Olivia flushed. He’s done his research, she thought, doing her best to quell a surge of hostility.
“Your tenants and employees will all benefit from this project,” Max Warfield added smoothly. “I’m sure you’re more interested in their futures than in the nesting locations of a few birds.”
“I hope that isn’t the tack you took when speaking to Marlene Gibbons.” Olivia took a sip of Wheeler’s sun tea. His secret was that he steeped fruit-flavored tea bags in the open air for hours. On any given sunny day, one could walk behind his eatery and find rows and rows of covered glass pitchers lined up on a pair of old card tables. No one else in Oyster Bay could rival the flavor of Wheeler’s iced tea. Today, the tea was peach flavored and tasted like bottled summer.
Dean gazed around the park, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We have something to offer everyone, Ms. Limoges. For example, Talbot Fine Properties has decided to add a feature to our new park. Would you care to see it?”
Olivia inclined her head and Max stepped into the gazebo, his nervous eyes fixed on Haviland.
“He won’t bite unless commanded to do so,” Olivia remarked coolly. “At least, not usually.”
Skirting around the poodle as though Haviland might suddenly lunge forward and sink sharp teeth into the costly material of his pant leg, Max unfurled another bird’s-eye view of the new park and tapped on a section of green toward the lower right-hand corner. Olivia wasn’t sure if the man was addressing her or Haviland when he said, “This space is specifically for dogs.”
“Yes, I can read the words ‘Dog Free Play Area’ quite easily,” she said. “So this is an open field where dogs are welcome to play unleashed?”
Dean’s smile grew larger. He came a little closer, fearful of scaring the fish he believed to be so near his sharp hook. “Exactly! There will also be garbage cans with disposal bags available, agility equipment for the dogs to exercise on, and a wading pool for those hot paws.”
“A lovely touch.” Olivia silently wondered if Haviland would condescend to join his furry kin in a communal pool. “Do you have a dog, Mr. Talbot?”
Sliding his eyes toward Haviland, Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. “No pets for me. I practically live out of my suitcase.”
Olivia produced a sympathetic look. She wanted to prove that she’d done her own share of research. “That must be hard on your wife.”
Dean shrugged. “Oh, I think my other half is happiest when I’m hundreds of miles away. We both have our own hobbies and interests. That happens in a marriage sometimes.”
Derailed by his frankness, Olivia broke eye contact. “The dog area is thoughtful. They don’t have a comparable play space at the moment and the public beach isn’t always the most practical solution, what with little children playing nearby and waste issues and such.”
“Look. I’m not asking you to commit to our project this second,” Dean continued amiably. “I’d just like you to consider the benefits alongside your concerns. Fair enough?”
Max made a move to collect the drawing, but Dean raised a finger, instantly halting the forward motion of his employee. Olivia noticed he was not wearing a wedding ring.
“I’ll be in town until next Wednesday, Ms. Limoges. Would you care to have dinner with me over the weekend? I promise not to discuss business matters.” He smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt. “It would be purely platonic—a chance for me to learn about Oyster Bay from a business owner’s perspective.”
“I’m not the only business owner in town.”
“But I’d prefer to share a meal with an attractive, intelligent, and sophisticated woman. I may be married, but I can still admire beauty.”
“Married with three children,” Olivia pointed out. “Are any of them involved in the family business?”
Dean’s face darkened for a moment, but then he shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “My kids aren’t interested in my field. One son deals with investments, my daughter is into fashion design, and my other son is a musician. I guess I didn’t play enough Monopoly with them when they were little.”
“So Mr. Warfield must be the heir to the throne,” Olivia remarked flippantly, but she’d chosen her words with care.
A disdainful light entered Dean’s eyes. “Max would be perfectly capable,” he said pleasantly. “But I’m not planning on retiring anytime soon.”
“I believe I had the honor of having your youngest son frequent my restaurant recently. Forgive me, but I don’t remember his name,” Olivia lied.
“Blake?” Again, the flicker of disapproval. “Well, we do own a house here and the kids are free to use it.” He paused and asked nonchalantly, “What do you mean by ‘recently’?”
Olivia rubbed her temple as though trying to remember. “He and a lovely young woman dined at The Boot Top about two weeks ago.”
“I see.” Dean fell silent and Max shifted uncomfortably.
After packing up the debris from her lunch, Olivia stood. “I should be getting back to the restaurant.” She held out her hand. “I’d love to have dinner with you on the condition that you allow my chef to prepare something special for us. I have plans this afternoon, but we could dine later this evening if that suits you?”
Dean took her hand and shook it gently. “I accept your terms and look forward to our evening together.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And I solemnly swear not to talk about the proposal. Not one word.”
The two men retreated in haste, shooting nervous glances at the sky. During the past half hour, it had become thick with gunmetal gray clouds, which seemed too heavy to hold their burdens much longer.
Haviland began to pace around the gazebo. He’d never been fond of thunder and Olivia knew he wanted to be safe at home before the storm broke. Olivia let him hop into the Rover and then asked him to be patient for a little longer.
She jogged up the dilapidated steps toward the little graveyard. The breeze had given way to a more persistent wind. The trees branches swayed like the arms of a dancer, and the tiny Confederate flags shivered as though cold.
Olivia opened the gate and stepped onto the soft grass with care. She noticed someone had gathered wild phlox and placed a single stem at the foot of each of the seven graves. The purple, tissuelike petals were crinkled with thirst but still gave off a faint sweet scent.
Someone else besides Jethro Bragg cares about this place, Olivia thought.
She got on her knees in front of Henry Bragg’s head-stone and stroked the smooth rock. There was a stillness to the place, a sense of deep peace Olivia rarely experienced anywhere but at the water’s edge and within the confines of her home.
The wind curled under her white blond hair and flipped it upward. It felt like the flutter of bird’s wings against her face. A feathery caress. It was as if the souls of the men buried beneath her had descended on a current of warm air and, moments before the rain began, blessed her with their presence.
“I won’t let them destroy this place,” Olivia whispered, her fingers tracing the shallow letters carved into the stone.
In her mind, she was seeing another name on another tombstone.
Olivia was still kneeling there when the rain came.
Chapter 12
I think that I shall never see
a billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I’ll never see a tree at all.
—OGDEN NASH
Aren’t gryphons part lion and part snake?” Laurel asked Millay later that evening.
Millay took a sip of coffee and shook her head. “That’s a chimera. A chimera has a scaly tail that ends in a serpent’s head. On the other end, you’ve got a lion’s head and a goat’s head kind of growing out of the back of the neck. I think chimeras are way cool, but for my story, I needed an animal with only one head. It’
d be tough for Tessa and the others to find room on a creature’s back if it had two heads.” She waved her hands around as she spoke, her silver thumb rings catching the light. “Besides, I like the gryphon’s combination of the lion and the eagle. What’s a goat head going to do in the middle of a battle? Ravish a flower garden?”
The writers laughed.
“You know your mythological beasts and you did a great job describing the gryphon as both a potential weapon and a possible friend.” Harris turned to the third page of Millay’s first chapter. “I really like this part, after Tessa’s been pushed and her gryphon catches her in his talons and flies her into his cave.”
He held up Millay’s second page and read, “Despite the piercing light of the full moon, the cave was mostly in shadow. The gryphon’s gold eye gleamed as he assessed his new rider. He watched the blood seep into her gauzy white dress where his scythelike claws had bit into the flesh of her waist. The coldness of his gaze sparked a flicker of fear in Tessa’s belly. She had heard tales of what happened to girls who did not instantly bond with their gryphons. Trembling, Tessa moved toward the creature, awed by his tawny fur, the shimmering feathers of his wings, the massive legs and muscular back, and the daggerlike curve of his beak. She sunk to one knee and bowed to him.”
The group let the words settle over them for a moment. It seemed a fitting segment to listen to as the light waned outside the cottage. Laurel had requested an early evening meeting, as her parents were coming to town after dinner and she wanted to make sure the twins were presentable before their arrival. Millay’s shift at Fish Nets began at eight, so she seconded the motion to begin the meeting at five thirty instead of six thirty. Olivia had left a message about the time change with Chief Rawlings the day before, but he had neither returned her call nor showed up for the meeting. She was surprisingly disappointed by his absence.
