A Deadly Cliche Read Free Page A

immediately followed suit.
    “Boys!” Laurel balled her fists in frustration. “Mommy has told you not to leave trails when we’re inside .”
    Olivia could see how the little boys might view their surroundings as being similar to an enchanted forest. They were in an aisle at the back of the store where the overhead lights failed to successfully illuminate the space. As a result, shadows hid in the crevices between lines of lawn rakes, brooms, shovels, and mops. From the perspective of the small boys, looking up into the steel and plastic rake tines and the bushy mop heads must have been akin to glancing up through the branches of a strange, magical wood.
    Grabbing two glow sticks from her cart, Olivia cracked them until they radiated a phosphorescent yellow light and handed one to each twin. “These work better than breadcrumbs,” she whispered conspiratorially. The boys accepted the gift and stared at her in awe.
    “You are so good with children,” Laurel gushed. “I can’t see why you don’t want any of your own.”
    Olivia laughed, a sound rich and deep as the tolling of a bell in the distant sea. “I’m good with yours for about thirty seconds, but that’s only because they’re yours. Besides, one doesn’t have to know much about children to recognize intelligence. Your boys are smart and imaginative and I must admit, I enjoy the glint of mischief in their eyes.”
    “It’s more than a glint,” Laurel murmured, but she was clearly pleased by the compliment. “Why are you filling your cart with emergency supplies?” she asked as they headed toward the checkout.
    “I like to be prepared,” Olivia answered cryptically. Laurel had enough on her mind without having to worry about an impending storm. As Laurel tried to maneuver her stroller through the narrow checkout space, she looked very young and vulnerable to Olivia.
    Unaware of their mother’s struggle, the twins giggled, sticking their glow sticks under their shirts and watching in scientific delight as the material in the center of their chests changed hue. It was as if their hearts had turned into little moons. Olivia reached out toward their firefly glow and tickled their chubby legs.
    “Laurel,” she said, ignoring the cashier who waited for her to sign her credit card receipt. “When you get home, call a locksmith and find out if there’s anything you can do to make your home safer. Don’t take any chances.”
    Clearly surprised by Olivia’s serious tone, Laurel hesitated, but she must have recognized the concern on her friend’s face, because she nodded and then pushed the stroller out the door.
    “She’d be better off buyin’ a gun,” the man in line behind Olivia remarked. “Doesn’t her man have one?” he queried, making it apparent that any man who did not possess a firearm wasn’t a genuine male.
    “Her husband’s a dentist. I believe he prefers other weapons.” Olivia accepted her bags from the cashier and flashed a wry grin at the man behind her. “But don’t worry. I could always loan her my rifle. I’ve got a Browning and she’s a beauty.”
    As Olivia stepped outside, she heard the man murmur, “Damn, now that’s my kind of lady.”
    As the sun hit her face, Olivia gave a slight smile. Some men loved a woman with her own weapon.

Chapter 2
    If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water’s edge.
    —NAPOLEON HILL
     
     
     
     
     
    T he Saturday before Labor Day promised to be sultry with a scattering of feathery clouds in a denim blue sky. The beaches of Oyster Bay would be packed with children and sun-worshippers, the harbor would be crammed with boats heading out for fishing trips or pleasure cruises, and every space in The Boot Top’s reservation log would be full.
    Olivia was grateful to have the beach to herself this morning. She lived north of town and there was nothing but the lighthouse to capture the interest of vacationers. Even then, they had to be