Written in Stone (12 page)

She sank into one of the leather club chairs and looked up at her head chef. “Sit,
Michel. You’ll wear a path in the carpet.”

“You know already, don’t you?” he asked shrilly. “That my last words to poor Willis
were horrible!”

Shaking her head, she placed a cocktail napkin on the table in front of her and set
her drink on it. “I heard that you two were arguing, but I don’t know what was said.”

Michel’s eyes glistened with tears. He brushed them away with the sleeve of his white
coat. “Noah wanted to film him again on Sunday—something about the history of Lumbee
cuisine—and Willis told me he needed more time off. He didn’t ask, Olivia. He just
told me. He had this swagger about him that just made me see red.”

“Really?” Olivia didn’t bother to conceal her skepticism. “He seemed totally normal
to me. Enthusiastic and happy. Right up to the moment he collapsed.”

Taking a fortifying gulp of his drink, Michel nodded. “I was probably seeing something
that wasn’t there. I told Willis that he was only on TV because he was a Lumbee and
that Noah never would have noticed him if I hadn’t wanted him to be in my kitchen
in the first place. He said he could leave at any time—that he’d wanted to learn from
me, but he wouldn’t cook with me if I didn’t treat him with more respect.”

“Good for Willis,” Olivia said. “And then what happened?”

“I made some stupid joke about poisoning his tasting spoon and he walked away.” Michel
dabbed at his eyes again. “And now he’s dead. I can’t apologize. I can’t tell him
that I was jealous of his youth and his talent. If only I had the chance to say what
I really believed—that he had all the right ingredients to make it big. I would have
helped him too. You know I don’t stay jealous for long. You know I’d have come around!”

Olivia was aware that Michel wanted her to agree with that statement, but she couldn’t.
“You’ve been on edge since that TV producer called. You’ve been moody and juvenile
and even petty in the past, but you’ve never been cruel.”

Michel swallowed hard. “It’s true. My hunger for recognition has driven me insane.
Now I know that I couldn’t have kept up with Pierce even if I’d had the chance. I
can’t handle the pressure.”

“That’s
Pierce’s
life, Michel. It’s the path he chose. You don’t need national acclaim. You’re content
here. In this town. In this kitchen. What more do you want?”

“Shelley,” Michel said simply. “But I don’t deserve her. If she’d seen my behavior
over the last few days, she wouldn’t be making soufflés in my ovens. If she’d heard
how I spoke to Willis . . .”

Olivia picked up her drink and nursed it in silence. Finally, she lowered the glass
and gazed at the ice cubes crowded at the bottom. “We all make mistakes, Michel. Try
to learn from this one and move forward.”

He sniffed and put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry for behaving like a threatened alpha
male.”

“More like a middle school girl.” She smiled at him. “Of course I forgive you, but
I hope you know what you’re doing with Shelley. She doesn’t strike me as the kind
of woman to have flings. I like her. So be careful.”

He grinned. “I knew you would. She’s been a shining light in my memory since culinary
school. What I’d give for a second chance to woo her. Unfortunately, she’s still married.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “You haven’t asked her about that? Get in the kitchen,
you fool. She’s more available than you think. God help her.”

*   *   *

An hour later, Olivia and Haviland entered The Bayside Crab House and were greeted
at the hostess station by a smiling kindergartner. Caitlyn, Olivia’s niece, was a
quiet child with molasses-colored eyes and hair. She was very fond of Haviland and
hugged him fiercely. Then she shyly held out a piece of paper for her aunt.

“It’s you, me, and Haviland,” she said in her high, little-girl voice. “At the beach.”

Olivia examined the drawing. In front of a sea made of green, blue, and grey waves,
Olivia and Caitlyn held hands while Haviland sniffed at a bright red crab. Bubbly
hearts floated around the frame and a rainbow stretched across a sky filled with fat
purple clouds. Most children Caitlyn’s age would have created a very two-dimensional
scene, but Caitlyn was already demonstrating advanced skills as an artist and she’d
infused her drawing with light, shadow, and depth.

“I love it.” Olivia smiled at her. “May I keep it?”

Caitlyn nodded, pleased.

“Is your mom here with Anders?” she asked, hoping to catch a glimpse of her nephew,
the only baby Olivia had ever wanted to hold.

“She’s outside, talking to your friend. The man with the pineapple shirt.” Caitlyn
waved her arm. “I’ll show you.”

Rawlings was at a table on the spacious deck overlooking the harbor. He had a frosted
pint glass of beer in front of him and was bouncing Anders on his knee. Kim, Olivia’s
sister-in-law, was gazing at Rawlings indulgently. Seeing Olivia, she stood and gave
her a quick hug and said, “Hudson is in a state over something that happened at the
food festival today. Would you go back and talk to him when you have a sec?”

Olivia’s half brother would be setting up a Bayside Crab House tent at the Coastal
Carolina Food Festival the following morning, and Olivia assumed he had an issue with
the tent’s location or another irksome detail. “Sure. Let me say hello to my handsome
nephew first.”

Olivia eased Anders from Rawlings’ arms. The baby focused his dolphin grey eyes on
her and produced a wide, gummy smile. As she drew him close to her chest, he cooed
and gurgled. She drank him in, enchanted by his hair, which smelled like sunshine,
and his cheeks, which were smooth as peach skin.

Pressing a kiss on her nephew’s forehead, Olivia could feel a loosening inside. The
solid warmth of her nephew’s body lessened the weight of sadness she felt over Willis’s
death. When Anders reached out to grasp her starfish necklace and, finding his aunt’s
neck bare, went for her shiny earring instead, she kissed his plump wrist, laughing
in delight as he kicked his bare feet into space.

“Aren’t they a picture?” Kim said to Rawlings.

“Beautiful,” the chief replied, his eyes filled with tenderness.

Olivia looked at him, momentarily wondering if Rawlings regretted not having a child
of his own, but she pushed the thought aside and smiled at him. “Nice threads,” she
said, ogling his Hawaiian shirt with amusement.

He glanced down at the yellow and green pineapple print. “Anders likes it.”

“Well, that’s all that matters,” she said and everyone laughed.

The ocean breeze wafted over the tables and rippled the furled sails and mast flags
of the boats anchored in the harbor. Olivia watched them gently bob and sway as shallow
waves rolled under their hulls. Gulls perched atop wooden pylons and the sun sank
into the water, leaking a wash of orange across the horizon. Diners talked and ate
heartily while bluegrass music danced from the speakers. Olivia soaked in the sights
and sounds and scents and took strength from them.

Eventually, Anders shoved his fist in his mouth and grew fussy.

“He’s hungry,” Kim said.

Olivia passed the baby to his mother. “I’ll be back to check on Hudson in a minute,”
she said.

“I’m going to the office to draw.” Caitlyn collected her Shirley Temple and then looked
at Haviland. “Wanna come?”

Haviland wagged his tail and Olivia knew the poodle would do anything to get closer
to the kitchen. She told him to follow Caitlyn and Kim inside and he trotted off,
flashing the other diners a toothy smile.

Rawlings and Olivia sat in companionable silence, soaking in the tranquility while
it lasted.

And it didn’t last long. Rawlings had just taken a sip of beer when his pocket buzzed.
He pulled out his phone, examined the screen, and frowned.

“What is it?” Olivia asked.

“The deputy texted me the cause of death. He wrote: ‘Docs weren’t sure. Are calling
it arrhythmia. Sister was taken back to her hotel by lady chief.’”

Olivia rubbed her temples. “Arrhythmia? That’s twice I’ve heard that word today. Shelley
Giusti’s husband died from arrhythmia. What is it exactly?”

“Let me pretend to be Harris.” Rawlings typed on his phone’s tiny keypad and then
squinted in order to read the results. “It’s an irregular heartbeat that messes with
the heart’s electrical signal. Many people have this condition and still lead normal
lives, but it can kill healthy people. According to this website, too much stress,
exercise, nicotine, or caffeine can cause premature or extra beats. Those throw off
the heart’s electrical signals.”

“Willis smoked like a fiend,” Olivia mused quietly. “And his stress levels have probably
been elevated since the Foodie Network
rolled into town. But he was so young, Rawlings. It seems unbelievable to me that
the heart of a twenty-one-year-old kid can just . . . wink out.”

Rawlings scrolled his phone screen. “It’s not common, but it happens. Oh, wait, here’s
another text from the deputy. He says Talley’s agreed to an autopsy. The doctors want
to be sure the cause wasn’t genetic.”

“They’d like to protect Talley from the same fate.” Olivia gazed at the saffron- and
persimmon-colored sky. After a moment, she pushed back her chair. “I need a drink.
Be right back.”

She wove her way around the tables, stepped inside, and walked past the crowded bar
and into the kitchen.

Steam billowed in clouds around Hudson’s head as he upended a deep stockpot filled
with crab legs into a metal colander. He looked up as Olivia entered, and wiped his
hands with a dishtowel. Plucking one of the sous-chefs on the sleeve, he gestured
at the crab legs and then led Olivia into the walk-in.

“Hey,” Hudson said, always a man of few words.

Olivia gestured at their surroundings in confusion. “Did you really need this level
of privacy?” she teased.

Hudson looked at his shoes. “You’re going to think I’m crazy as it is. I don’t need
them to think it too.” He jerked his hand in the direction of the bustling kitchen.

Crossing her arms against the cold, Olivia studied her brother. When he wouldn’t meet
her eyes, her befuddlement changed to concern. “Did something happen at the campground
today?”

He nodded but wouldn’t speak.

“You went to view the site where The Bayside Crab House tent will be, right?”

Hudson grabbed an orange from the shelf and began to work at its peel. “Yeah, and
when I was there I saw . . . I don’t know . . . a ghost. A hallucination. I don’t
know what.”

Olivia had been expecting Hudson to say that he’d had an altercation with another
vendor or was irate about the tent’s location, but his statement took her completely
by surprise. Her mouth opened and then closed again.

“It’s crazy, but I know that I saw . . .” He began to separate the peel from the fruit
in one long curl. He still wouldn’t look at her.

“What?” Olivia put her cold hand on his arm and drew a little closer. “What did you
see, Hudson? What’s got you so rattled?”

He looked at her now, his dark eyes wide and frightened. Her brother, who was tough
as nails, was trembling. “I saw him, Olivia. I saw our father.”

Chapter 11

In gambling the many must lose in order that the few may win.

—G
EORGE
B
ERNARD
S
HAW

T
he cold seeped into Olivia’s bones. She shook head in denial, but the movement did
not lessen the chill or alter the expression on her brother’s face.

“That’s impossible, Hudson. We watched him die. He’s gone.”

“I know!” Hudson growled. “That’s why I can’t make sense of it. I thought that if
you could . . . arrrrh!” He slammed his elbow into a cardboard box on the shelf behind
him. “If only you’d seen him too! If only you’d been there!”

Olivia had seen Hudson this agitated only once before, when he’d been told that his
newborn son had come into the world with a birth defect and needed emergency heart
surgery. He’d reached out to her then, pleading for her to intervene on behalf of
his family. He was reaching out to her again now.

Olivia knew that there was nothing fanciful about Hudson Salter. He was devoted to
work and family above all other things. He didn’t believe in the supernatural and
had no use for organized religion. Mentions of the hereafter—of angels, spirits, or
ghosts—were met with a dismissive grunt.

“Think back on what you saw.” Olivia spoke very gently. “Do you really believe that
our father’s ghost appeared to you at a food festival?”

Hudson rubbed his face with his hands and then balled them into fists. “Listen to
me. I
saw
him. He wasn’t the same. He was better dressed. Had better hair. Nicer teeth. Maybe
ten more pounds of muscle on his bones, but it was him. He looked right at me, Olivia.
Felt like he was looking right through me.” He took a quick breath. “I was so scared
that I dropped my drink. Spilled Dr Pepper all over my shoes, damn it. And I don’t
scare easy.”

“Okay, okay.” Olivia held out her hands, hoping to mollify her brother. “There’s only
one logical explanation. You saw a man who looks so much like Willie Wade that it
gave you a genuine shock. Hudson, your reaction to this guy could be some form of
grief. Have you been thinking about our father lately?”

Hudson snorted. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a new baby, a new house, and a new restaurant.
The man’s barely crossed my mind since I stepped into this kitchen.” He examined the
orange peel in his fist and then stuffed it into his apron pocket. “I’m not being
haunted. I don’t believe it that crap. But I know what I saw.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked. “How can I help you?”

Her offer seemed to be what Hudson needed. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
“Keep your eyes open tomorrow. Maybe you’ll see him too and then I won’t feel like
such a nutcase. If not, then I’ll just let it go. It’ll take a few days to forget,
that’s all.”

She smiled and squeezed his arm. “I’ll be as observant as possible. Promise. Can we
get out of here now?”

“Yeah.” He pushed open the thick door and then paused. “Don’t mention this to anyone,
okay? Especially Kim. She’s got enough on her plate.”

“I won’t,” Olivia assured him. “But right now I need to get to the bar. This day seems
to be going on forever, and trust me, that’s not a good thing.”

Now it was Hudson’s turn to look concerned. “You wanna tell me about it?”

Olivia hesitated. She wanted to be closer to her brother. They’d made small strides
in the right direction, but in many ways, he was still a stranger to her. He was so
quiet and reserved that she often found herself talking with Kim and Caitlyn more
than with him. He poured all his energy into The Bayside Crab House, and while the
restaurant was a safe subject and one they could discuss at length, the half siblings
rarely touched on more personal topics. Olivia knew that reviewing menus and supply
lists weren’t going to help strengthen their bond, so she took a breath and said,
“A sous-chef from The Boot Top died today. I was talking to him when he collapsed.
I just can’t accept what happened. I don’t want to believe it.”

Hudson didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled her to him and embraced her tightly.
It was a brief hug, but Olivia felt renewed by it. When Hudson released her, he said,
“The world doesn’t always make sense, does it?”

“No,” she agreed. “And today, for both of us, it’s been especially off kilter.”

“Go get that drink,” he commanded softly. “And I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Hudson would try to comfort her by cooking her something special, so even though she
wasn’t very hungry, she gave him a grateful smile and left the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returned to the deck area with a tumbler of Chivas Regal
in hand. During her brief absence, the rest of the Bayside Book Writers had arrived
and were making quick work of an appetizer platter of fried calamari, grilled shrimp
wrapped in prosciutto, salmon spring rolls, and mini crab cakes in a curried yogurt
sauce. Two pitchers of beer had also materialized and Millay was busy filling pint
glasses until the rims were moistened by white foam.

“Are you going to join the commoners or are you sticking with your Scotch?” she asked
Olivia, the pitcher hovering over the last glass.

“I’ll pass,” Olivia said. “I need something stiffer than our local microbrewery can
provide.”

“The chief told us how Willis died.” Harris helped himself to more calamari but ended
up staring at his food with a guilty expression. “It seems totally impossible. He
was so young.”

Olivia didn’t want their gathering to turn morose, so she nodded and then gazed expectantly
at Laurel. “Any luck with the jug?”

Laurel pulled out her notebook and began flipping through the pages. “One woman thought
she’d seen the insect on the high school ring before. She said it wasn’t a bee, but
she couldn’t remember the right name.”

“A wasp?” Millay guessed.

“No,” Olivia said. “I looked up every high school in the state with a wasp or bee
mascot. They don’t match the green stone.”

Glancing at her notes, Laurel said, “I asked the woman about wasps too. It wasn’t
the bug she was thinking of.”

Rawlings rubbed his chin pensively. “Could it be a hornet?”

“I suppose,” Olivia said. “I never checked for a hornet mascot.”

Harris took out his phone and gave it a little shake. “You guys keep talking while
my fingers do the walking.”

Millay rolled her eyes and then focused on Laurel again. “What did people say about
Willis?”

“Only good things. In fact, I heard the same descriptions over and over—that Willis
was energetic, fun loving, hard working, and devoted to the tribe and his sister.”

“Nothing more personal?” Olivia asked in surprise. “Did he have a girlfriend? What
happened to his parents?”

Laurel’s shoulders slumped. “I tried to find out. Believe me, I did my best to dig
deeper, but that’s all I got. I know most of the tribe is still in shock, but I didn’t
hear one silly story from childhood or teenage antics or anything.”

“There’s something weird about that. Why would people want to paint him in such a
perfect light? That’s not how I want to be remembered,” Millay said, dumping her messenger
bag on the table. Beer sloshed over the side of Harris’s glass and puddled next to
his plate. When he protested, Millay told him to drink faster. She then removed a
pad of paper from the bag and tapped her handwritten notes. “There’s a reason why
everyone knows Willis and Talley. In the tribe, they’re, like, famous. They were about
to become rich too. In a few weeks, Willis could have told Michel or you to ‘take
your job and shove it.’ Now, Talley will get an even bigger piece of the pie. If the
deal goes through, that is.” She took a gulp of beer and gazed at her friends through
hooded lids, enjoying the moment of suspense.

“Since we know you won’t continue until one of us of asks, I’ll ask,” Rawlings said.
“What deal?”

“Willis and Talley own a piece of land that’s going to be the future home of the Golden
Eagle Resort and Casino.” Millay’s mouth curved upward into an impish grin. “Forget
Vegas, baby. What happens in Lumberton stays in Lumberton.”

“A casino?” Laurel was stunned. “Is that even legal?”

Harris held out his finger, signaling that he was in the process of searching for
an answer to that very question. He swiped at his phone’s screen a few times and then
read a dense block of text. “A Cherokee casino in the western part of the state was
recently granted permission to have poker tables and to serve alcohol. Before that,
they were more like a glorified bingo hall.”

“Lumberton’s right off I-95,” Rawlings said. “Tons of travelers could be lured into
a casino.”

Millay refilled her empty beer glass. “According to the newspaper article I read,
the people from Maxton are totally on board with the whole thing. To them, the Golden
Eagle means new jobs, a new life for their town. Right now, Maxton is just some dot
on the map. If this casino goes up, they’ll have something going for them.”

Olivia jumped at the mention of the town’s name. “Maxton?” She looked at Rawlings.
“Isn’t that where the Battle of Hayes Pond took place?”

“Whoa! There’s a heavy dose of poetic justice for you.” Harris chuckled. “First the
Lumbee make the Klan look like the Caped Cowards of Carolina and now—because of legalized
gambling—they are going to become the most influential people in Robeson County! Eat
your heart out, Sopranos.”

Laurel, who’d been writing furiously in her notebook, paused and tapped her lips with
her pen. “I can’t explain it, but I think Olivia’s onto something. There must be a
connection between the Locklear family, the Battle of Hayes Pond, and Munin’s jug.”

“Why? None of the objects link Willis or Talley to Munin,” Rawlings argued agreeably.
He then looked at Harris. “Did you find a match for that class ring?”

“Oh, yeah, let me go back to that window.”

The Bayside Book Writers ate and chatted about their Saturday plans while Harris worked
his magic. A pair of waitresses removed the appetizer platters and passed out glasses
of ice water and a fresh supply of napkins. They returned carrying dishes loaded with
Hudson’s specialty: a surf and turf entrée of grilled beef tenderloin and lobster
tails served with a side of spicy garlic-shallot butter.

Olivia’s friends clapped in delight, but she didn’t welcome the sight of such heavy
food. For some reason, the mound of grilled meat made her think of her father and
of Hudson’s conviction that he’d seen Willie Wade’s double walking around the Croatan
National Forest.

“This is for you.” A waitress placed a dinner plate in front of Olivia. “Hudson made
you a lighter entrée. This is a filet of orange roughy in a ginger and scallion sauce
with a side of greens.”

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled at the waitress and then put a forkful of the flaky fish
in her mouth and sighed in contentment. The sauce was subtle and soothing and the
fish was so tender that it practically melted on her tongue. She imagined Hudson taking
pains over her entrée, willing her to be nourished and comforted by his food, and
she was. Every bite felt infused by warmth and affection and she was silently grateful
for the bizarre chain of events that had brought Hudson Salter into her life.

“Ha!” Harris shouted and brandished his phone in the air. “Here we are. The hornet
was the mascot of Littlefield High School in Lumberton.” His self-satisfied grin quickly
faded as his eyes met Olivia’s. “Lumberton again, huh? This can’t be coincidence.
Munin must have been trying to get across a message about that place, but what was
she trying to tell you?”

Rawlings frowned. “You said the hornet
was
the mascot. Why?”

Harris pointed at his phone. “Littlefield stopped being a high school in the nineties.
Looks like it became a middle school instead. Kids go to Lumberton High now and their
mascot is a nasty-looking pirate. Check it out. He’s even got a dagger clamped between
his teeth.” He titled the screen to allow Millay a glimpse.

“So this ring belongs to someone who graduated from Littlefield when it was still
a high school,” Olivia said. “Someone who loved his or her school, because giving
the ring to Munin would have been a sacrifice.”

“Who loves high school?” Harris spluttered. “Hell is made of dental offices and high
schools! No offense, Laurel.”

She smiled. “None taken. The sound of Steve’s drill is worse than nails on a chalkboard.”
She shuddered in distaste.

Ignoring the exchange between her two friends, Olivia put her fork down and pushed
her plate away. She was frustrated. Too many facts cluttered her thoughts. The Lumbee,
the KKK, a casino, a class ring, and a young girl left with a valuable inheritance
in the form of a desirable parcel of land. The word “inheritance” struck a chord.
Where was the rest of Talley’s family?

“Millay? What about Willis’s and Talley’s parents? Did you find anything more specific
about them?” Olivia asked.

“Not a thing on the dad. Not even his name,” Millay replied. “As for the mom, she
apparently died from post-surgery complications.”

Olivia stared at her friend. “That’s it? There were no more details on what caused
her death?”

Millay shrugged. “Most of my info came from old newspaper articles. I tried to hunt
around for more on the mom, but all I came up with was a photo of her winning the
Miss Lumbee title back in the day. Her name was Natalie Mitchell and she was drop-dead
gorgeous.” She flinched over her choice of phrase. “I mean, she was smoking hot.”

Wondering if Natalie also resembled Munin, Olivia asked Millay if she’d brought a
printout of the image.

“I was at the library and the pay-per-page printer was busted.” Millay’s tone was
apologetic.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look on the computer later. There can’t be too many pictures of
a Miss Lumbee named Natalie Mitchell,” Olivia said.

Laurel dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and checked her watch. “I’d better get
going. Steve’s parents are watching the boys and they want to be back at their place
in time to watch reruns of
30 Rock
.”