Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

together. They’d been in competition for top chef positions in the finest American restaurants until Michel had fallen for a married woman. Despite the cost to his career, he’d moved to Raleigh to be near her, and while he was mooning after someone who had no intention of leaving her husband, Dumas went on to garner national acclaim for his epicurean skills. He worked in Manhattan, Vegas, and Los Angeles and constantly appeared in culinary magazines and on food-related television shows.
    Dumas had fame, wealth, and a gorgeous A-list actress wife. Michel, on the other hand, had been unceremoniously dumped by his married girlfriend and, battling a serious depression, decided to relocate. During his interview for the chef’s position at The Boot Top, he’d prepared several dishes for Olivia and she knew right away that Michel was the man for the job. Within months of hiring him, she came to realize that he had two destructive obsessions: married women and a deep-seated envy of Pierce Dumas.
    “You haven’t mentioned Dumas in over a year,” Olivia reminded Michel. “You’re happy where you are. Look at the result of his high-stress lifestyle. A heart attack at his age?”
    Michel smiled with delight.
    “You live in paradise and have complete control of this kitchen. You’re the master of your realm, the money is good, and you’re healthy. You’re not famous, but fame is a curse, believe me.”
    “Well, I’d like my fifteen minutes and I’m going to get it. My mind is stuffed with menu ideas that will dazzle the producer.” Michel rubbed his hands together with glee. “And I’ve heard Shelley Giusti will be at the festival. We met in a pastry chef class a million years ago. I was in love with her of course, but she married some health nut as soon as we graduated. Even back then, she was a true sorceress with desserts.”
    “Was she your first crush?” Olivia asked. Michel was constantly falling in and out of love.
    “First
love
. And if she looks anything like her photo on the jacket flap of her new cookbook,
Decadence
, then she has aged
very
well. I wonder if she’ll remember all the good times we shared. We used to meet for drinks after class and talk about everything and anything. I remember how she’d throw her head back when she laughed . . .” Michel trailed off, a dreamy look entering his eyes.
    Olivia was all too familiar with the signs that he was about to embark on a new infatuation. “Does this mean that you’re not going to pursue Laurel anymore? I thought she was the butter to your grits, the salsa to your tortilla chips, the vanilla ice cream to your apple strudel?”
    “Stop it! Enough with the food clichés,” Michel pleaded. “Part of me will always care for Laurel. She is an angel among women and her husband isn’t worthy of her, but she doesn’t see me as a potential lover. She never will.”
    Putting a hand on Michel’s shoulder, Olivia spoke with rare tenderness. “I don’t know why you chase people who aren’t free to love you, but you deserve someone to call your own. You’re a fine man, Michel. You could make the right woman very happy.”
    Moved by her words, Michel simply nodded.
    Olivia took the piece of paper from his hand and flattened it on the nearest countertop. “I’ll speak to this producer. I want certain things in writing before a film crew invades my restaurant.”
    Michel knew that his employer was wary of the media, regardless of what form it took.
    “I know you’re doing this for me,” he murmured quietly. “Not for the business. It doesn’t need the Foodie Network. I do.”
    His eyes grew moist and for a moment it looked like he might throw his arms around Olivia, but he recognized that she wouldn’t welcome a grandiose display of emotion.
    He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his chef’s jacket and cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said simply. And then, unable to resist a bit of theatricality, added, “Everything you said to me about love is true. I’m getting older. It’s time for me to have a grown-up relationship. It’s time for me to be happy. And it’s time for you to be happy too.”
    Olivia looked up sharply.
    “Oh, yes,” Michel continued softly. “You’ve had enough loneliness to last two lifetimes. Let the past go.”
    Her fingertips moved to where the starfish pendant was concealed beneath the fabric of her dress. Michel knew the history of the necklace. He knew that Olivia’s mother had died during a