The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

the books. She can’t boil an egg, but she’s got a good head for numbers.”
    “Can she handle that responsibility with a newborn at home?” Olivia had asked.
    “She’s juggled more than that before. We’ll make this place our second home, you’ll see.” Hudson had put a hand on her shoulder to reinforce his point, and for once, Olivia backed down. She could tell that her brother and his wife were completely dedicated to seeing that The Bayside Crab House was a success.
    So far, Kim had managed the preopening pressure without difficulty, but her due date was only days away, and tonight she was looking worn to a nub. When she came into the kitchen to fetch extra bowls of melted butter, she leaned heavily on the counter near Caitlyn. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and the skin on her face had a sallow tinge. When Olivia looked down at her sister-in-law’s ankles, she gasped.
    “Kim, look how swollen you are!” Olivia pushed a stack of empty crates across the floor and gestured at them. “Sit down on this stool and put your feet up this instant. I’ll bring the damn butter out.” She locked eyes with Caitlyn. “You watch your mother. Do not let her get up. Your shift is over, Kim!” Olivia was angry with Hudson, not Kim, and forced herself to speak more gently. “Thank you for arranging this for me. I’m really thrilled by all you and Hudson have accomplished, but you need to go home. I don’t want my niece or nephew being born on my new floor.”
    Outside, Olivia dumped the butter unceremoniously on the table and glared at Hudson. “Your wife needs to lie down. Her legs look like tree trunks, and she’s so exhausted she can barely hold her head up.”
    Hudson didn’t respond. Instead, he shrugged and took a long pull from his beer bottle. As Olivia felt her indignation mounting, Rawlings put a hand on Hudson’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of the dishes. It’s the least we can do after you’ve served us a feast fit for Poseidon himself.” He gave Hudson a coaxing smile. “Go on, man. You deserve to spend the rest of this fine evening watching a ball game on TV.”
    Laurel and Millay hugged the gruff cook, and he was clearly startled to be the recipient of their affection. He didn’t return the embraces, but there was a smile in his eyes and he gave Olivia a nearly imperceptible nod as he passed.
    Olivia turned to Rawlings, wanting to demonstrate her gratitude with a look, but his eyes were focused on the remnants of food on his plate. For a moment, she wished they were alone together. No friends, no musicians, no family members, just the two of them sharing a meal beneath the open sky and the glimmer of tiny white lights.
    Yet she’d decided to push him away, closing herself off to possible heartbreak. Her life was too complicated for anything other than a one-night stand, and she knew that Rawlings would never enter into a shallow relationship. He wanted to know her, body and soul, and she’d placed her privacy above his feelings.
    As she watched Rawlings now, however, she felt her flesh humming with desire for him. She imagined being pressed against his bearlike chest, exposing deeply concealed feelings to the man, but fantasy was as far as she was willing to go.
    I belong only to myself. If the trade-off for independence is loneliness, then I’ll be lonely.
    The mention of Nick Plumley’s name brought an end to Olivia’s ruminations.
    “What did you say?” she asked Harris.
    “Nick’s coming over to pick up my manuscript on Tuesday. He’s going to read the whole thing! Isn’t that awesome?”
    Olivia raised her brows. “He’s coming to the office or to your house?”
    “The house. He’s going to hang out and read while I paint the living room. I told him I’d taken a personal day from work and that things were going to be chaotic because the floor guys will be laying tile in the kitchen and removing the nasty carpet from the stairs.” Harris winked at her. “All thanks to a friend who gave me a grade-A, killer housewarming present.”
    “How sweet of Mr. Plumley,” Laurel stated, stacking dirty dishes into a tall pile. “We all think of him as this rich and famous novelist, but he’s only human, and it sounds like he’s looking to make some new friends.” She grabbed the stack of dishes and headed inside, signaling the end of the party.
    After making sure she and the Bayside Book Writers had left the restaurant kitchen spotlessly clean, Olivia and