Page 44 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

It feels like her chaotic energy whooshes right out of the room at her exit. And now it’s way, way too quiet.

“Maybe even two,” I echo, looking after Laurel as she zig-zags down the sidewalk.

“Is she drunk now?” Oliver wonders.

“I truly have no idea what’s going on with her.” I inhale sharply. “I’m a little worried, to be honest.”

Oliver takes a step toward me. “I don’t blame you. Do you need to go check on her?”

I process his look of concern, his eyes poring over my face like I’m the next book he’s going to slap an index card on. “No, thanks. I’ll talk to her when I get home.” I shake my head quickly. “Well, when I get to Beach Haven, that is.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. And Ivy?”

“Yeah?” I meet his gaze.

Oliver’s mouth ticks up a bit at the corner. “You really should tell Laurel that a dogskin coat is a nonstarter. She should definitely try the green curtains instead.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “So I take it you’ve read Gone with the Wind, then?”

“You may be a literary expert,” he replies, “but I can assure you, I know my way around the Penguin Classics catalogue.”

“Oliver,” I say, hugging the book I’m holding to my chest, “you might just give me a run for my money.”

He grins. “Oh, I plan to.”

Just then, the phone at the front desk rings, and he goes to answer it, taking long strides across the entryway. I watch him walk away, swept up in a wave of confusion—for how he’s treating me today, like he’s enjoying my company; for how his eyes are making my stomach lurch; for how it’s been such an incredibly long time since I smiled so much; and wondering what, exactly, it is about him that’s making me feel like maybe everything’s going to be okay after all.

Maisie stops by the bookstore at 4:30. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologizes as she bustles in. She’s carrying three tote bags and a sandwich board, plus a pile of flyers for the upcoming author visit. “I’ve been running all over tarnation today, trying to get ready for this event next week. I wanted to get in here sooner to help you two out on the floor, but nothing has gone smoothly today.”

Oliver lays a gentle hand on Maisie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We have it more than under control here.”

“Absolutely,” I add, flashing her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Oliver’s done a great job showing me the ropes the last couple weeks, and we were able to manage just fine, even during a big rush of customers around two o’clock.” Oliver’s face descends into shock at the praise, which almost makes me chuckle, but I manage to restrain myself.

“I’m so glad to hear it,” she says, sounding more than a little relieved. “I’m not surprised, of course. I knew you two could handle it.”

“We even got the staff picks situated,” Oliver adds, grabbing the flyers and sandwich board from Maisie and setting them on the front counter.

“What would I do without you?” Maisie’s smiling at Oliver like he’s her beloved grandson. It’s an adorable dynamic, most especially because their personalities clash so majestically.

“Cry, probably,” he teases.

Maisie chuckles. “Oh, there’s no ‘probably’ about it. Say, after the author event next week, I’d like to invite you both to my house for dinner. We’re going to be working extra hard between now and then to get everything ready, and I really want to do something special to thank you for all your hard work. Maybe Thursday night?”

She might be the sweetest person on the face of the planet. “That’s so incredibly kind of you, but you don’t have to do that. You have so much on your plate already.” I gesture to the bags and the pile of flyers.

“And I’d like to put something on your plate.” She’s clearly pleased with her joke, so Oliver and I both laugh.

“I accept, but only if you let me bring something,” Oliver tells her.

Maisie throws up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I concede. You may bring something. But only if that something is your unbeatable chocolate raspberry cheesecake.”

I do a double-take. Oliver makes unbeatable chocolate raspberry cheesecake?

“Gladly,” he’s telling her, like making a cheesecake is a straightforward task he tackles every day.

“What can I bring?” No way am I showing up empty-handed to this gathering.

“Oh, whatever you want, dear,” Maisie says. “Surprise us with your favorite dish!”