“Do your sons have wooden blocks? I bet they’d make excellent projectiles.” Olivia selected several packages of batteries. “Seriously, though. If you’ll feel better about having company, ask your in-laws to stay over. I’m sure they’d be delighted.”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “I’d rather be attacked by burglars.” Her pale blue eyes gleamed. “Actually, this topic gives me an idea for my next chapter.”
Olivia arched her brows. “Your duchess is going to be ravished by a handsome highwaymen?”
“No. I’m trying to avoid clichés, remember? But what if she’s captured by someone of the wrong class and grows to love him? A rogue with a Robin Hood complex. Things could get very complicated and very steamy.”
It was always a delight to see how animated Laurel became when she spoke of her writing. Olivia smiled. “And what of the poor, cuckolded duke?”
“He shouldn’t have taken his wife for granted!” Laurel declared heatedly and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if they were still discussing a fictional couple or if the conversation had suddenly entered the realm of autobiography.
One of the twins crushed a cracker in his fist and scattered orange crumbs across the floor. “Now we won’t get lost,” he told his brother, who immediately followed suit.
“Boys!” Laurel balled her fists in frustration. “Mommy has told you not to leave trails when we’re inside.”
Olivia could see how the little boys might view their surroundings as being similar to an enchanted forest. They were in an aisle at the back of the store where the overhead lights failed to successfully illuminate the space. As a result, shadows hid in the crevices between lines of lawn rakes, brooms, shovels, and mops. From the perspective of the small boys, looking up into the steel and plastic rake tines and the bushy mop heads must have been akin to glancing up through the branches of a strange, magical wood.
Grabbing two glow sticks from her cart, Olivia cracked them until they radiated a phosphorescent yellow light and handed one to each twin. “These work better than breadcrumbs,” she whispered conspiratorially. The boys accepted the gift and stared at her in awe.
“You are so good with children,” Laurel gushed. “I can’t see why you don’t want any of your own.”
Olivia laughed, a sound rich and deep as the tolling of a bell in the distant sea. “I’m good with yours for about thirty seconds, but that’s only because they’re yours. Besides, one doesn’t have to know much about children to recognize intelligence. Your boys are smart and imaginative and I must admit, I enjoy the glint of mischief in their eyes.”
“It’s more than a glint,” Laurel murmured, but she was clearly pleased by the compliment. “Why are you filling your cart with emergency supplies?” she asked as they headed toward the checkout.
“I like to be prepared,” Olivia answered cryptically. Laurel had enough on her mind without having to worry about an impending storm. As Laurel tried to maneuver her stroller through the narrow checkout space, she looked very young and vulnerable to Olivia.
Unaware of their mother’s struggle, the twins giggled, sticking their glow sticks under their shirts and watching in scientific delight as the material in the center of their chests changed hue. It was as if their hearts had turned into little moons. Olivia reached out toward their firefly glow and tickled their chubby legs.
“Laurel,” she said, ignoring the cashier who waited for her to sign her credit card receipt. “When you get home, call a locksmith and find out if there’s anything you can do to make your home safer. Don’t take any chances.”
Clearly surprised by Olivia’s serious tone, Laurel hesitated, but she must have recognized the concern on her friend’s face, because she nodded and then pushed the stroller out the door.
“She’d be better off buyin’ a gun,” the man in line behind Olivia remarked. “Doesn’t her man have one?” he queried, making it apparent that any man who did not possess a firearm wasn’t a genuine male.
“Her husband’s a dentist. I believe he prefers other weapons.” Olivia accepted her bags from the cashier and flashed a wry grin at the man behind her. “But don’t worry. I could always loan her my rifle. I’ve got a Browning and she’s a beauty.”
As Olivia stepped outside, she heard the man murmur, “Damn, now that’s my kind of lady.”
As the sun hit her face, Olivia gave a slight smile. Some men loved a woman with her own weapon.
Chapter 2
If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water’s edge.
—NAPOLEON HILL
The Saturday before Labor Day promised to be sultry with a scattering of feathery clouds in a denim blue sky. The beaches of Oyster Bay would be packed with children and sun-worshippers, the harbor would be crammed with boats heading out for fishing trips or pleasure cruises, and every space in The Boot Top’s reservation log would be full.
Olivia was grateful to have the beach to herself this morning. She lived north of town and there was nothing but the lighthouse to capture the interest of vacationers. Even then, they had to be willing to traverse the gravel road leading to the landmark and pay a small fee for the privilege of being able to climb up the winding stairs to the main gallery.
From here, the view was spectacular. The ocean stretched endlessly into the distance until it blurred into a thin, blue line where it kissed the horizon. Ships of all sizes passed slowly across the water, and dark shadows indicative of large schools of fish provided contrast to the glittering surface waves.
This was the beauty of the lighthouse in the daytime, but only a select number of locals knew that its true magnificence was revealed when a storm front moved in or when the sun set and night fell over the ocean.
As a child, Olivia had often nicked the key from the absentminded keeper and had climbed the stairs to the watch. She would bring a book and an old towel to sit on and read as a million stars were born in the inky blackness overhead. When the sea had turned as dark as the sky, the water seemed to be pushing stars in Olivia’s direction and she felt cherished by the offering.
On other days, she’d crouch on the balcony, her blue eyes wide as heavy thunderclouds bore down upon the Point. She had traveled across the world, but never had she seen a sight more electrifying than forks of lightning bursting across the sky, endeavoring, or so it seemed, to pierce the very heart of the ocean.
Now, at a quarter past eight in the morning, the beach was deserted. The lighthouse didn’t open until ten and Olivia’s closest neighbors lived two miles up the beach and rarely ventured outside.
“What do you think we’ll find today, Captain?” she asked Haviland and lowered the Bounty Hunter Discovery 3300 metal detector to the ground.
The poodle shook his black ears and shot forward, unwilling to wait as his mistress fiddled with her noisy machine. There were gulls and sandpipers to chase and crabs that needed to be sent scuttling back into their sandy burrows.
Olivia adjusted the metal detector’s volume and began to walk, sweeping the disc in a slow and constant arc as she moved forward. After years of hunting for assorted treasures deposited onto the shore by generous waves, Olivia knew how to differentiate between the high bleeps signaling useless items like nails or bottle caps and the higher-pitched sounds indicating the presence of jewelry or coins.
She paused after half a mile and removed a bottle of water and a folding trench shovel from her backpack. After taking several swallows of water, she dug through the moist sand and uncovered two tokens for a children’s arcade located several towns away.