Jacqueline Diamond - The Police Chief's Lady

“Martha was a beautiful girl and a wonderful singer. She bowled Ethan over,” Annette said. “Nick was only a few months old when she died.”

“That must have been terrible.” Not wanting to pry into Ethan’s personal life, Jenni veered from that subject by focusing on Annette. “You probably weren’t expecting to take on child-raising duties again.”

“No, but it’s worth it,” she said. “I’d do the same to help my daughter, Brianna, Ethan’s younger sister. She just went through a nasty divorce and I’d love for her to move here.”

“I’m sorry about the divorce.” Jenni hadn’t expected so many confidences. “If she does come back, she might need the apartment.”

“I don’t see it happening anytime soon. I’d like you to take a look at the place.”

Annette obviously wasn’t an easy woman to dissuade.

“The offer’s open. Drop by any time.”

“Thanks,” she replied.

After Annette left, a glance at the clock showed it was after five o’clock. Jenni gathered her purse, helped Yvonne close the office and went out to the compact car she’d leased.

Tonight ought to be fun, a chance to let down her hair and get to know some other women. Karen had promised that they’d give her the lowdown on the singles’ scene.

Jenni didn’t want to start dating anytime soon, though. Ethan already considered her a husband-stealing flirt, and for some reason, she wanted to disprove his low opinion.

The prospect of living next door to him made her shudder. No one could stand up to that kind of scrutiny, especially if she was being compared with an idealized wife.

Yet an image lingered of him carrying the little boy on his shoulders, two pairs of dark eyes shining and two sets of white teeth flashing. It made Jenni long for something she’d never had and probably never would have.

Pushing away the thought, she headed for the Lowells’ house.

Shortly after six p.m., Ethan found the outdoor terrace already filled at the Café Montreal, Gwen Martin’s establishment at the south end of The Green. Once in a while, he stopped in for lunch or dinner, as much to keep his ear to the ground as for the exceptional food. He preferred to dine with his mother and Nick, but tonight they were attending a kids’ birthday party.

On this warm June evening, customers sat enjoying their meals as colored globes glowed in the twilight. Ethan identified the scents of garlic, sausages and orange crepes, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. He paused briefly to exchange greetings with Archie and Olivia Rockwell before making his way inside.

A waitress showed him to a table near the glass-fronted pastry display. Although picking out a dessert was hard to resist, he ordered only his usual bowl of onion soup and a patty melt on rye.

Ethan had no idea what a real French café looked like, whether in Paris or Montreal, but he enjoyed the ambience created by Impressionist prints on the walls and striped awnings above the service counters. He also appreciated that between this cafe and Pepe’s Italian Diner, Downhome offered international cuisine in addition to the Southern fried chicken, hush puppies and grits available at the local coffee shop.

His fellow diners were a mix of workers, farmers and retired folks. The strangers sprinkled among them must be travelers passing through. The town didn’t attract tourists except the one weekend a month when Gwen organized a Farmers Market and Crafts Fair on The Green.

The owner, in a red-and-white checked apron, stopped by his table. Although she wore her steely gray-on-black hair in the usual bun, tendrils curling from the sides softened the contours of her face. “So what do you think of our lady doctor? I heard Nick went to see her.”

“She seems competent.” Ethan had been impressed by Jenni’s assurance and by the rapport she’d struck with Nick, whatever his other reservations about her. Despite his impulse to demand further treatment, he’d recognized that she was probably right to avoid antibiotics. “What’s the consensus?”

“The women love her. They say their husbands are suddenly deciding they need the physicals they’ve been putting off for years.”

“They’re not jealous?” he asked.

Gwen shook her head. “Any woman can tell Jenni’s not on the prowl.”

“I don’t see how.”

“She isn’t needy. Or greedy, either.” Gwen swung toward the pastry counter and addressed the young man behind it. “Box me up a dozen of those tarts, a couple of pounds of cookies and a lemon pie, would you, Jimmy?”

“Sure thing,” he called back.

“What’s that for?” Ethan inquired.

“Potluck at Karen’s.”

“Oh, right.” He remembered Jenni mentioning it. Too bad he wasn’t invited. The food would be great, and always curious, he’d love to know the topics of conversation.

“Still think we made the wrong choice of physician?” Gwen challenged.

“Too soon to tell.”

“According to the grapevine, she paid you a visit Monday morning.” The café owner watched her employee box the desserts. “Must have been an interesting discussion.”

“Very.” He let it go at that. No point in feeding the gossip mill, which was obviously working overtime.

Gwen shook her head at him. “One of these days, Ethan Forrest, some woman is going to get under your skin. You’ll open that gorgeous mouth of yours and poetry will flow out.”

He raised his water glass in a toast. “I live for that day, chérie.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “If I weren’t old enough to be your mother, I’d take a stab at it myself.” Across the counter, she accepted a stack of pastry boxes. “Well, I’m off. I’ll give the ladies your regards.”

“Please do.”

His onion soup arrived, encrusted with melted cheese. Savoring the taste, Ethan let his thoughts wander back to that afternoon.

He wondered what Jenni had meant about her parents not being around much during her younger years. Perhaps they’d shuffled their child off to boarding schools.

Having worked summers and weekends since he was a teenager, Ethan found it hard to sympathize with a poor little rich kid, but he had to admit Jenni had turned out squarely grounded. She must have worked hard in medical school, and he assumed she put in long hours at her profession.

That she’d chosen to relocate to Downhome puzzled him. Even in light of the scandal in L.A., she must have had other options. Perhaps she’d decided to play at being a country doctor.

What had Mom been thinking when she offered to rent to Jenni? The last thing Nick needed was to grow attached to a short-term renter.

More people entered the restaurant, and Ethan forgot about Jenni as acquaintances stopped to say hello. One expressed concern about the portrait thefts. A couple of people asked if he’d heard the talk of a proposed new shopping center on the west side of Downhome. He had, of course. Rumors had swirled for months over the sale of several hundred acres in that area, but so far a proposal had not come before the city council. Ethan knew no more than anyone else.

He was digging into his patty melt when Barry Lowell slid into the chair across from him. “Mind if I join you?” The editor had picked up a Reuben sandwich at the take-out counter.

“Be my guest. Did your sister ban you from the premises tonight?”

“What? No.” He pulled the plastic lid from his soda cup and took a swallow. A few years younger than Ethan, Barry had thick brown hair that perpetually flopped on to his forehead, almost covering the scar he’d received in prison. Although he worked next door to the Snip ’N’ Curl, he rarely found time to pay it a visit. “I just finished putting the paper to bed.”