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?”