Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

a pair of Adirondack chairs, a picnic table, and a potted fern on hers. The fern didn’t look like it had long to live but Olivia decided to prolong its existence by dumping the contents of her water glass into its bone-dry soil.
    She went into the kitchen, refilled the glass, and repeated the process three times before the soil was moist to the touch.
    “I think it’s a hopeless cause,” a voice said from the alleyway behind the shop.
    Olivia jumped.
    “Damn it, Flynn.” She scowled at the handsome, middle-aged owner of Oyster Bay’s only bookstore. “Is this how you spend your evenings? Creeping among the town’s garbage bins?”
    “Only when beautiful women are nearby,” he replied nonchalantly and sat down at the picnic table. “Is this how you spend yours? Dressing to the nines and watering half-dead plants?”
    Olivia studied the man who’d once been her lover. He was as carefree and confident as usual. His mouth was always on the verge of curving into a smile and there was an ever-present gleam of mischief in his gull gray eyes. A textbook extrovert, Flynn loved to swap gossip with his customers and play with their children in the bookstore’s puppet theater. He was lively and friendly and fun. Everyone liked him. He was everything Olivia was not and that’s what had initially drawn her to him. However, their strong physical attraction hadn’t been enough to hold them together and they’d both moved on to form more meaningful relationships with other partners.
    “What are you thinking about right now?” Flynn asked. “You’ve got this look on your face. Like you’ve gone back in time and want to linger there a moment. Perhaps you are reminiscing about us?” He raised his brows and smiled a little. “We had some electric moments, didn’t we?”
    Trying not to let him see the accuracy of his guess, Olivia joined him at the picnic table. “Where’s Diane? It’s a Saturday night in June. The stars are shining, the ocean breeze is blowing, and the town is stuffed to the gills with tourists. So why aren’t you out wining and dining your girlfriend?”
    “Because we had a big fight,” he said without the slightest trace of emotion. “And because I wanted the chance to talk to you.”
    “Oh?” Olivia’s tone was guarded. “In the middle of Shelley’s event? How did you know I’d be here?”
    Flynn shrugged. “It was a sure bet that she’d invite you. Any small business owner with half a brain would. Do you know how many new customers I’ve gotten because you recommended me?”
    “I love Through the Wardrobe.” Olivia was careful to praise the store, not its proprietor. “I’d do anything to see it flourish. A town without a bookstore is an empty shell of a place.”
    Beaming, Flynn leaned toward her. “I’m so glad you said that. It makes it easier to ask you for a big favor.”
    Olivia gestured for him to continue.
    “
The Gazette
and I are partnering to sponsor a storytellers’ retreat next month. It’s for people all over the region who make their living performing folktales. I’m going to schedule some children’s programs at the shop and the paper will arrange for adult performances at the library. If there’s enough interest, we’ll use the high school’s auditorium.”
    “That sounds wonderful, Flynn,” she said sincerely. “But where do I come in?”
    Olivia had to give her former lover credit. He didn’t dance around the point or try to soften her up with compliments. He simply opened his hands so that his palms formed a bowl and said, “I need help funding the event. The expenses were supposed be covered by the
Gazette
, a grant, and me. Well, the grant’s fallen through. But we have to go on. Things have been set in motion. Hotel rooms have been booked. Ads placed. Invitations sent and accepted. But we don’t have enough money to pay for it all. We need a philanthropist, Olivia. The storytellers need you.”
    “Don’t lay it on too thick,” she warned. “How much are we talking about?”
    Eyes flashing in premature triumph, Flynn reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. “I’ve itemized all the costs for you. This way, you’ll have proof that I’m not heading out on a Caribbean cruise at your expense.”
    Olivia didn’t unfold the paper. She tucked it into her Chanel evening bag and promised to look it over in the morning. “I never make decisions when my belly is stuffed with chocolate.”
    Flynn laughed. “An