The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

my job. I gardened, ran for miles to turn my body into a toned work of art, and coordinated the social events sponsored by my husband’s company. I even got us accepted to the finest country club in town. My husband finally got to play golf on the course of his dreams.
    And still, not a speck of glimmering fairy dust rained down onto our marital bed. There were no sparks of enchantment in my husband’s eyes when he looked at me across a candlelit table. He didn’t reach for my hand in the dark movie theater or whisper his hopes and fears across my pillow before we drifted off to sleep. We made love like it was a chore on Saturday’s to-do list. My husband never murmured my name.
    Somehow, I had failed.
    Olivia put down her pen, too stunned to make a single mark on Laurel’s paper.
    “What is this?” she asked, flipping to the next page and skimming over the lines. “What happened to the duchess? She was falling for the highwayman. He was on his way to collect the ransom from the duke. Laurel had set up an ambush. This is supposed to be the ambush scene!”
    Reaching for her computer mouse, she clicked on Laurel’s e-mail. Olivia hadn’t bothered to read her friend’s note. Too interested in seeing what would befall the rakish highwayman, she’d just opened the file and printed out the chapter. Now she carefully read Laurel’s note.

    Dear Bayside Book Writers:
    I am not sending any more chapters about the duchess. I’m shelving that project for now. I just didn’t feel that it was working. Instead, I’ve attached the first chapter of my new manuscript, which I’m calling Lessons for Ever After.
    It is a contemporary romance but won’t feel very romantic at first. The upside is that this story feels much more genuine. I can barely sleep because I want to work on it all the time. The characters are so alive in my head! Sorry to do this without warning, but I hope you understand.

    See you Saturday,
LH
    Olivia sat back in her chair and took a bite of biscotti. Laurel had written over one hundred pages in her historical romance and now she was just going to stick it in a drawer and begin a new project? The decision took courage, Olivia knew, but she wondered if something else hadn’t prompted the change. Was the passage she’d read an autobiographical account of Laurel’s marriage to Steve? Olivia truly hoped not.
    “I can’t read into it like that,” she admonished herself out loud and handed Haviland an organic dog treat from the jar on her desk. “That’s not my job as a critique partner.”
    It didn’t take long for Olivia to finish a run-through of the chapter. She was surprised to find that it was much stronger than Laurel’s previous work. She made a note below the last line that she’d never sensed the presence of voice in the historical romance, but that this woman’s voice, whom Laurel refers to only as “The Wife,” was both vibrant and authentic. The duchess was self-serving and often shallow, but Laurel’s new protagonist was an interesting blend of self-doubt and pluck. She was sympathetic and multidimensional, and Laurel’s switch to first-person succeeded in drawing in the reader.
    “I can’t wait to see what the rest of the group makes of this new chapter,” Olivia said to Haviland and drained her coffee cup.
    Unfortunately, it was two weeks before the Bayside Book Writers were able to meet again. The sellers had officially accepted Harris’s offer, and the closing went through without a hitch. Clearly Millicent Banks had gotten the job done. It had been decided to postpone the next meeting until moving day. They’d all promised to help Harris cart boxes and small pieces of furniture from his old apartment to his new house on Oleander Drive.
    Whether Nick Plumley had made any attempt to contact the sellers, Olivia didn’t know, but she’d seen Millicent at the grocery store, showing off her new Chanel purse to a group of admirers gathered around the deli counter.
    Despite overcast skies and the fact that the day would be spent hauling things from one residence to another, Harris couldn’t stop smiling. Upon seeing Olivia standing in his living room, he greeted her with an exuberant embrace and then shook Haviland’s paw. The poodle quickly disengaged and jogged off to explore the apartment. With the knickknacks boxed and the furniture piled in the center of each room, there was an array of exposed scents waiting to be investigated.
    Harris had secured the aid