Eyes twinkling, Flynn selected several board books from a lower shelf. As he did so, Olivia chose two macaw puppets and added them to the books in Flynn’s arms. “Those too.” She pointed a finger at him. “And no more references to fairy godmothers or I’ll be forced to sic my dog on you.”
Haviland curled his upper lip, exposing a row of pointy, white teeth.
Flynn’s fingers paused over the cash register. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t poke fun at you after what happened to your friend. I’m not normally insensitive. Please accept my apology.”
Olivia knew everyone in the small town would have heard about the murder by now, but she couldn’t help bristling a little. “No matter how private the pain, it becomes everyone’s business in a town as small as this. Skeletons don’t stay in closets in Oyster Bay. They’re brought out and paraded through the streets.”
Accepting Olivia’s credit card, Flynn held the plastic in his hand and gave her a sympathetic look. “Sounds like you know about this custom firsthand.” He waited for her to respond and when she didn’t, he turned away in order to tender the sale. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve got such a dull past,” he stated airily, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “You can’t get into too much trouble trapped in cubicle land for half your life. Borrow someone’s stapler and not give it back, jam the fax machine, use the last of the powdered creamer at the coffee station—that’s about as far as you dare go.”
When Olivia reached out to take the bag, Flynn’s fingers folded over her hand. “Remember, I’m new to Oyster Bay. Keep your secrets locked away from me as long as you want. I only want to see what you’d like to show me.”
Unused to hearing such frankness, especially delivered by such a handsome and charismatic man, Olivia found herself at a loss for words.
When a mother carrying an infant in some kind of sack across her chest approached Flynn in search of a book called The Baby Whisperer, Olivia politely excused herself and left the store.
Outside, the air was twenty degrees warmer and stiflingly moist. Haviland blinked against the sun’s glare and cocked his head at his mistress.
“All right, so I’m flustered!” Olivia snapped. “He is very good-looking and it has been quite some time since my last—”
Haviland barked.
“Point taken, Captain. My mind should be on other matters.” She hastened to the Range Rover. “But there’s no need for you to act jealous either.”
Ten minutes later, Olivia parked in the employee lot of The Boot Top and, giving her kitchen staff the most cursory of waves, went straight back to her office. Haviland perched firmly in the threshold, thereby increasing his chance of being fed choice tidbits by Michel.
Olivia called her aesthetician in New Bern and listened as the woman recommended several products to render Harris’s skin condition less irritating.
“I’m in search of something more permanent than a topical cream,” Olivia explained. “We’re talking about a good-looking boy here, but because of this issue, he probably hasn’t had a proper date since high school. And he’d be a real catch. Harris would treat some lucky girl like a queen.”
The aesthetician laughed. “Then send him my way!”
“Can you help him or not?” Olivia was impatient to get to her computer.
“Only if you bring him into the spa,” the woman replied sweetly. She never seemed bothered by Olivia’s abruptness. “I can see if he’d benefit from a series of laser treatments or IPL, which stands for intense pulse light. I can’t prescribe a treatment over the phone.”
Olivia wondered how she’d ever raise the subject to Harris. She didn’t know him well enough to pull him aside and embark on a discussion about his facial rash, let alone drag him to a posh spa in New Bern to have it treated by a laser while she footed the bill.
“I’ll find a way,” Olivia promised.
Next, she pulled up the website for the Oyster Bay Gazette and searched for an announcement about the township committee meeting. By law, the time, place, and items to be discussed had to be posted for the public prior to the meeting. The notice had appeared in last week’s paper and could also be found on the library bulletin board and on the town’s website. Olivia easily found the link on the Gazette’s online site, opened the PDF file, and began to read.
“The meeting is tonight,” she murmured under her breath. “Here it is! Listen to this!” she shouted, breaking Haviland’s trance. He leapt up and barked nervously. “Committeeman Johnson proposes a discussion followed by a vote to sell the Neuse River Community Park land to Talbot Fine Properties for a sum of eight and a half million dollars.”
She leaned back in her chair, lacing and unlacing her fingers together as excitement and anxiety coursed through her blood. She could feel it rushing through her heart, surging through her extremities as she rose from her chair.
“The Talbots want a bigger piece of Oyster Bay.” Taking Chief Rawlings’ card from her wallet, Olivia picked up the phone and began to dial his number. “The question is: How far will they go to get it?”
Chapter 9
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
—EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
The smell accosted Olivia as soon as she stepped through the poppy red double doors of the Edward Thatch Middle School. Ammonia, sweat, and greasy food mingled with an animalistic odor of surging hormones. Like all large public buildings, the polished laminate floors still looked dingy beneath rows of dust-covered fluorescent ceiling lights. Without windows, the school’s central hallway could belong in any hospital, mental institution, or low-security correctional facility across the country. Only the self-congratulatory trophy cases and forcibly cheerful bulletin boards identified the corridor as being a part of a building dedicated to learning.
Olivia followed the sound of murmuring voices, relieved to have left Haviland at home. Not only would his olfactory senses be overwhelmed but the impassioned arguments she expected to take place during the meeting would also cause her poodle far too much anxiety.
Previous notices listed the township meetings as being held in Classroom 105, but as Olivia passed the room, she noticed the door was shut. A purple sign had been hung across the narrow window slit, announcing that the meeting had been moved to the auditorium.
To Olivia, the word “auditorium” conjured an image of cushioned seats, velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers, and flashes of gilt. Having left Oyster Bay before middle school, she had never actually seen the Edward Thatch auditorium.
“It’ll be just like Lincoln Center, I’m sure.” Olivia chuckled to herself. “Instead of amateur productions of The Wizard of Oz or Cheaper by the Dozen, the citizens of Oyster Bay are surely treated to stellar performances of Aida and Tosca.”
Turning down another locker-lined hallway, the murmur of conversation swelled. The meeting hadn’t started yet and townsfolk were standing in clusters outside the cavernous room, heads bent as they rapidly exchanged opinions. Words ricocheted off the sand-colored cement walls in a sharp staccato. Already Olivia could see tension in the furrowed brows and balled fists of those waiting just outside the propped auditorium doors.