The House on Olive Street (Harlequin Mira)

The House on Olive Street (Harlequin Mira)

The loss of their close friend draws four women together.And a summer spent sorting through personal effects offers the perfect challenge—and the perfect escape. Sable —Her bestselling novels have made her a star, but the woman who has everything, in fact, has nothing but a past she is desperate to hide. Elly —The intellectual who has hidden herself within the walls of academia, afraid to admit she is tired of being alone. Barbara Ann —The talent behind twenty-six romance novels wakes up one day to discover she's lost control of her career, her sanity and her family. Beth —Her popular mysteries have become the only way she can fight against the secret tyranny of an abusive husband. In the house on Olive Street, away from their troubles, the four women discover something marvelous: themselves. And along the way they realize a dream. For, in telling the story of a remarkable woman, their own lives begin to change. Robyn Carr is a RITA® Award-winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than forty novels, including the critically acclaimed Virgin River series. Robyn and her husband live in Las Vegas, Nevada. You can visit Robyn Carr’s website at www.RobynCarr.com. April 16 Fair Oaks, California Elly sensed something was wrong immediately, but since she was not a woman who lived by her instincts, she did nothing. She pushed the dark, ominous feeling aside and made believe that it was her abhorrence for surprise parties that brought on this edginess. She held the grocery bag that Sable had given her and stood, obediently, on the walk leading to Gabby's front door. This was Sable's idea-the surprise birthday party for Gabby's fiftieth birthday. It was April sixteenth, the day after taxes were due. Gabby was an Aries, but lacked many of the typical character flaws of the astrological sign. She was neither arrogant, nor selfish, nor controlling. She possessed a raw courage, and she had a rare zest for life. Gabby turned fifty today-a beautiful, vibrant, exciting fifty. Fifty on the brink of still greater things, not on the declining side of life. Elly, fifty-eight, had not had such youth or vibrancy at twenty. Something was wrong. Elly heard the ticktocking of Sable's heels on the flagstone walk. She, too, carried a grocery bag. There were two more bags in the trunk, all filled with the makings of a lavish champagne brunch. The idea was to arrive just prior to Gabby's waking hour-somewhere around 11:00 a.m. It was ten-thirty. They hadn't even considered coming earlier. Gabby, for all her joy of life, was as mean as a junkyard dog in the early morning. "Don't get Daisy barking," Sable commanded in a whisper, though they stood several feet from the front door. "We don't want Gabby to know what's up until the others arrive." The others were Barbara Ann Vaughan and Beth Mahoney. The five of them formed an intimate little writers' group who relied on each other for support, critique, industry news, celebration and whatever the publishing industry threw at them. Their works were diverse, ranging from mystery to romance to academic. Gabby's house was where they always met. Daisy. That was the trouble, Elly realized. Gabby's nine-year-old golden retriever was whining at the door. Not much more than a miserable squeak. Added was the occasional scrape of her heavy paw; she wanted out. This was not typical. If Daisy heard people outside the door, she usually got all excited. She'd woof politely, but loudly. "Listen," Elly ordered. "That's Daisy. She's not barking." "She probably knows it's us," Sable suggested. Elly put her bag down on the walk and crept nearer the door. Daisy had known them all since puppyhood and it had never stopped her from barking before. She was crying! "Eleanor!" Sable whispered furiously. She rushed up behind Elly, snatching at her sleeve. "Come away from that door! You're going to spoil it!" "Something's wrong," Elly said loudly, punching the doorbell. "What the hell are you doing?" The dog still had not started barking. "Listen," Elly said. "Hear anything?" "Not yet, but any second we're going to hear Gabby cursing on her way to the-" "Daisy still isn't barking. Listen to her fuss. Something's wrong." Eleanor began digging through her enormous shoulder bag for her keys. She was the only one among the women who had a key to Gabby's house, given to her years ago so she could check on things while Gabby was out of town. She'd had it ever since, but never had an occasion like this in which to use it. "Eleanor," Sable groaned. "Shit. You're going to ruin everything. What do you think you're doing?" Elly rang the bell a couple more times, but didn't wait for a response. She slid the appropriate key into the lock. Daisy came bounding through the door, rushing past the two of them, not looking back. Out into the freedom. Out onto the grass. She looked back over her shoulder guiltily as she squatted to pee not three feet from the front walk. She'd been ready to