attending, especially since Michel
no longer had a crush on her. “I’ll be there. Michel too. We’ve been asked to serve
as celebrity judges for some of the cooking competitions. Apparently, the Foodie Network
will be filming several segments over the weekend. And Hudson’s going to run a Bayside
Crab House tent on Saturday.”
Harris pointed a shrimp skewer at Olivia. “You get all the glamorous jobs. I have
to go because my company wants to develop a new game called Koko’s Kitchen. It’s supposed
to appeal to five- to eight-year-olds and there are a bunch of kid-focused cooking
demonstrations at the festival, so guess who has to watch all of them to get a feel
for the graphic design? Why can’t I go to Comic-Con to check out the outfits worn
by barbarian warrior maidens instead?”
Millay dunked a wonton into the bowl of ginger-soy sauce and grinned at Harris. “Hey,
at least you’re getting paid to hang out at a fair. I mean, do you really need to
conduct much research to design cyber spaghetti or chicken tenders?” She turned to
Laurel. “That’s pretty much what kids eat, right?”
Laurel nodded glumly. “I used to cook the twins all kinds of things. Their plates
were colorful and oh so healthy, but now I hardly bother. All they want is mac and
cheese, pizza, or Happy Meals. And I give it to them.” She sighed. “I won’t be winning
a Mother of the Year award anytime soon.”
“Getting kids to try new foods is the whole point of this game!” Harris exclaimed.
“There’ve been all these studies showing that kids are more likely to eat unfamiliar
food if they cook it themselves. Especially vegetables.”
“In that case, I’d like to preorder a copy,” Laurel said. “Or do you need a few test
subjects? My kids are all yours if you do. In fact, they could just move in with you
for a weekend. What do you say?”
Harris blanched.
Olivia savored the exchange of easy conversation, imagining the words floating through
the house on currents of cool air and eventually coming to rest in the cracks of the
old pine floorboards. She liked the idea of the entire structure being filled with
talk and laugher—the writers coating every surface with a patina of friendship.
Not so long ago, the cottage had felt uninviting, haunted. Olivia had avoided the
painful memories lingering within its walls by completely ignoring its existence.
But then her friends had given her a reason to exorcise its ghosts and she had renovated
it from the roof down, turning it into the perfect meeting place for small groups.
Now, as she stood by the window overlooking the ocean, she marveled over how her life
had changed for the better since she’d become a member of the Bayside Book Writers.
They’d rescued her from decades of loneliness and neglect, just as Olivia had rescued
her childhood home.
“Can I interrupt your space-out session?” Millay asked, breaking into Olivia’s reverie.
“I really need a napkin.”
Seeing the dribble of soy sauce on Millay’s chin and the brown splotches on the counter,
Olivia laughed and handed her friend a paper towel. “Are you working at Fish Nets
or will you be at the festival?”
“I’m only going if there are free samples,” she said. “If there aren’t, I might as
well walk around Costco. If I go around the whole store three times, that’s lunch.”
Olivia settled into one of the plush club chairs facing the water and gave Millay
a bemused look. “I think the food you can taste at the event will top the corn dog
bites and protein bars you’ll be offered at Costco. If nothing else, Hudson will feed
you. The Bayside Crab House is setting up a tent in the vendor area.”
“In that case, I’m in,” Millay said and Olivia caught the gleam of happiness in Harris’s
eyes. She studied her ginger-haired friend. Had his boyish, Peter Pan appearance changed
since he’d been shot? Yes, he did look
no longer had a crush on her. “I’ll be there. Michel too. We’ve been asked to serve
as celebrity judges for some of the cooking competitions. Apparently, the Foodie Network
will be filming several segments over the weekend. And Hudson’s going to run a Bayside
Crab House tent on Saturday.”
Harris pointed a shrimp skewer at Olivia. “You get all the glamorous jobs. I have
to go because my company wants to develop a new game called Koko’s Kitchen. It’s supposed
to appeal to five- to eight-year-olds and there are a bunch of kid-focused cooking
demonstrations at the festival, so guess who has to watch all of them to get a feel
for the graphic design? Why can’t I go to Comic-Con to check out the outfits worn
by barbarian warrior maidens instead?”
Millay dunked a wonton into the bowl of ginger-soy sauce and grinned at Harris. “Hey,
at least you’re getting paid to hang out at a fair. I mean, do you really need to
conduct much research to design cyber spaghetti or chicken tenders?” She turned to
Laurel. “That’s pretty much what kids eat, right?”
Laurel nodded glumly. “I used to cook the twins all kinds of things. Their plates
were colorful and oh so healthy, but now I hardly bother. All they want is mac and
cheese, pizza, or Happy Meals. And I give it to them.” She sighed. “I won’t be winning
a Mother of the Year award anytime soon.”
“Getting kids to try new foods is the whole point of this game!” Harris exclaimed.
“There’ve been all these studies showing that kids are more likely to eat unfamiliar
food if they cook it themselves. Especially vegetables.”
“In that case, I’d like to preorder a copy,” Laurel said. “Or do you need a few test
subjects? My kids are all yours if you do. In fact, they could just move in with you
for a weekend. What do you say?”
Harris blanched.
Olivia savored the exchange of easy conversation, imagining the words floating through
the house on currents of cool air and eventually coming to rest in the cracks of the
old pine floorboards. She liked the idea of the entire structure being filled with
talk and laugher—the writers coating every surface with a patina of friendship.
Not so long ago, the cottage had felt uninviting, haunted. Olivia had avoided the
painful memories lingering within its walls by completely ignoring its existence.
But then her friends had given her a reason to exorcise its ghosts and she had renovated
it from the roof down, turning it into the perfect meeting place for small groups.
Now, as she stood by the window overlooking the ocean, she marveled over how her life
had changed for the better since she’d become a member of the Bayside Book Writers.
They’d rescued her from decades of loneliness and neglect, just as Olivia had rescued
her childhood home.
“Can I interrupt your space-out session?” Millay asked, breaking into Olivia’s reverie.
“I really need a napkin.”
Seeing the dribble of soy sauce on Millay’s chin and the brown splotches on the counter,
Olivia laughed and handed her friend a paper towel. “Are you working at Fish Nets
or will you be at the festival?”
“I’m only going if there are free samples,” she said. “If there aren’t, I might as
well walk around Costco. If I go around the whole store three times, that’s lunch.”
Olivia settled into one of the plush club chairs facing the water and gave Millay
a bemused look. “I think the food you can taste at the event will top the corn dog
bites and protein bars you’ll be offered at Costco. If nothing else, Hudson will feed
you. The Bayside Crab House is setting up a tent in the vendor area.”
“In that case, I’m in,” Millay said and Olivia caught the gleam of happiness in Harris’s
eyes. She studied her ginger-haired friend. Had his boyish, Peter Pan appearance changed
since he’d been shot? Yes, he did look
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