Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

quickly.” She sighed. “I don’t want to be first.”
    “Who better to blaze into the unknown than you? Give yourself permission to be happy about what you’ve achieved.” Olivia picked up the letter and thrust it at Millay. “Sign with this agency and start working on your next book. Take the leap.”
    Millay still hadn’t reclaimed the letter.
    Olivia wasn’t one for pep talks, but she wasn’t about to let Millay throw this opportunity away. “Approach this with the same fearlessness you use on drunk bikers or high school bullies or chauvinists or racists. Grab it by the—”
    “Hello!” Laurel called out merrily upon entering the cottage. “I hope the pizza’s here! I am
so
hungry.”
    She breezed into the kitchen, the folder containing Olivia’s chapter tucked under her arm, and began chattering about her meager lunch. Suddenly, she stopped talking and shifted her gaze between Olivia and Millay. “There’s a charged atmosphere in this room. Are you two arguing?” Without giving them a chance to respond, Laurel continued. “When I was little, my parents made this ridiculous vow never to fight in front of me, but I could always tell when there was friction because I’d walk into a room and they’d be standing exactly like you are right now. Close, but not too close. And the air would be heavy with all the harsh words they’d just spoken. Certain words hang around long after they’re uttered, you know. They have a way of clinging to things.”
    The comment was oddly reminiscent of the one Captain Fergusson had made to Olivia a few weeks ago in Fish Nets. “Go on,” she said to Millay. “Tell her.”
    Millay rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She waved the letter in front of Laurel. “It’s no big deal, so don’t scream or start getting all touchy-feely like you do, but I got an offer from a literary agency. They want to represent me.”
    Laurel said nothing. Her blue eyes glimmered, and her mouth hung open in astonishment.
    “Here we go,” Millay muttered unhappily, but Olivia could see a glint of pleasure in her face.
    “Oh, Lord!” Laurel squealed. “I can’t believe it!” She put both hands over her heart and drew in a deep breath. When she released it, a torrent of words came tumbling forth. “Actually, I
can
believe it! Your book is
so
good! I know it’s going to sell like crazy, and we’ll get to say that we knew you before you made it big. Oh, man! Does Harris know? Of course he does.” She threw out her arms and advanced on Millay. “What are we doing to celebrate?”
    Millay backed off a step and held out a warning finger. “No hugs, remember? And if you try to kiss me, I will go full-out ninja on you.”
    Laurel had to content herself with snatching up the letter and retreating to the sofa. Perching on the edge, she unfolded the missive and read it aloud.
    The moment she started, Millay grunted in annoyance and gestured at the liquor bottles lined up behind Olivia. “You need to start pouring something. Anything. But get me a drink, or things are going to turn violent.”
    Laughing, Olivia moved to fulfill Millay’s request.
    As she dropped ice cubes into a tumbler made of hand-blown glass, Rawlings and Harris came in together. They’d barely shut the front door before Laurel was sharing Millay’s news. She jumped up and down with excitement, her blond ponytail swinging, the muscles in her toned legs tensing as she bounced on her tiptoes. To Olivia, she looked every bit the high school cheerleader she’d once been.
    Millay had turned her back on the scene and was gulping her beverage without pausing for breath.
    “Slow down,” Olivia scolded. “You’re not supposed to guzzle Chivas Regal. It’s not a Slurpee.”
    “This is what I look like when I’m celebrating,” Millay said, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She had yet to greet Rawlings or Harris.
    And then Olivia realized what was wrong. For some reason Millay hadn’t told Harris about her good fortune, and here he was on the verge of finding out along with everyone else.
    Olivia looked at him. Though he was smiling at Laurel and saying, “Yeah, I’m totally psyched for her,” he was unable to conceal the hurt in his eyes. Olivia couldn’t blame him. After all, he and Millay had been dating for months, possibly even a year. Olivia wasn’t good at remembering such anniversaries, but she knew that if Rawlings had received that letter and hadn’t told her first, privately, so they