Plain Jane (23 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
Jane conjured up a mental picture of his parents sitting side by side on a sofa, his mother in a flowered dress and his father in a golf shirt and tan slacks. “They sound wonderful.”
“That's because they are wonderful. They're going to love you. Can we go to bed now? I didn't sleep at all last night.”
“Mike, who wrote the password on the disk?”
“I have no idea . . . unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“It could have been your ghost.”
Jane guffawed and sat up. “Really, Mike, that's stretching things just a bit, don't you think?”
“What other explanation could there be?” he asked, his expression sober.
Jane looked him straight in the eye, and said, “There are no such things as ghosts.”
11
The air was downright frosty, perfect Christmas weather, Jane thought when she climbed out of her car and handed the keys over to the young man in charge of valet parking. She looked around, thinking the restaurant looked different somehow. Maybe the owners had given the building a face-lift. It had been years since she'd been there, and then it had been at night. The food was exceptional, that much she did remember.
The building was long and narrow, with banquet rooms in the back. At first glance it looked like something the architect had given up on. Gray fieldstone and Tudor windows added to the architectural discord.
Its saving grace was its festive outdoor decor. The restaurant had gone all out on its Christmas decorations. On every door, on every window, in every nook and cranny there were tiny white lights intertwined in the greenery and finished off with red-velvet bows. The interior was dim and fragrant, with the scent of balsam wafting in all directions. Jane sniffed appreciatively. The moment she walked into the foyer she could hear the hum of conversation and the clink of silver and glassware. This was the busiest time of year for restaurant owners. She eyed the tree in the corner, with its expensive gold ornaments. In her opinion, her hardware-store tree looked a thousand times better. Or maybe it was just because she liked things simple rather than glitzy. She sat down in the waiting area and glanced at her watch. She hoped Todd Prentice didn't decide to stand her up.
Five minutes later, he came through the door on a gust of wind. “Jane, I hope I haven't kept you waiting,” he said, running his hand over his hair.
“No, as a matter of fact, I just got here myself,” she said, discreetly eyeing his cashmere overcoat and pricey shoes. The tie alone probably cost a couple of hundred dollars. She would have had to be blind to miss the monogrammed cuffs of the pristine white shirt that showed at the wrist as he handed over his coat to the hatcheck girl. He deftly switched the manila envelope he was carrying from one hand to the other as he reached for Jane's coat and smiled. He cupped her elbow in his hand to usher her into the dining room, totally ignoring the hostess.
“The firm keeps a table at the back of the room. My father-in-law pays handsomely for the privilege,” he confided.
“How nice,” she intoned woodenly.
“It
is
nice, believe me. This place really jams, and it's nice to walk in and know you have a table and don't have to wait or tip the hostess. The CFO of the firm holds a percentage of the restaurant, but that's a private matter.”
is
nice, believe me. This place really jams, and it's nice to walk in and know you have a table and don't have to wait or tip the hostess. The CFO of the firm holds a percentage of the restaurant, but that's a private matter.”
Prentice led the way to the back of the restaurant, stopping momentarily to say hello to other people or just to pat someone's shoulder as he strode by. He was right, it was the best table in the house, Jane thought, as he held the chair for her. She wondered what was in the manila envelope he placed on the table. Probably stuff he thought would help her with the paper she'd said she wanted to write.
“Now, Jane, what would you like to drink?”
“Mineral water with a twist of lime, please. I'm driving.” She laid her purse down next to her, then unfolded her napkin and put it on her lap.
“I am, too, but I'm having a double Rob Roy.” He raised his index finger and a waiter immediately appeared. He gave the order and shook loose a cigarette.
“You can smoke in here?” Jane asked in surprise.
“I can, yes.” His eyes wary, he asked, “Are you set for the holidays?”
“I think so. How about you?”
“My wife handles all that stuff. You know how wives are. They want to be sure everything is perfect and us guys would just foul it up. We go to our condo in Aspen every year for Christmas and stay through the New Year.”
A condo in Aspen. The most Connie could have hoped for was a sleigh ride in New Jersey if she had married this dandy.
“I brought some material for you to look over, thinking it would save some time. Why don't you take a look at it while I call the office and check on things. I left a bit of a mess for my secretary.”
Jane reached for the envelope. She made a pretense of leafing through the drug periodicals and glossy brochures touting their newest drugs. She raised her gaze once to look around the room and, with the aid of a mirrored wall opposite him, could clearly see Prentice speaking on the lobby phone. If he was talking to his office, she had horns. She had just closed the clasp on the envelope when Todd rejoined her.
“Did any of that help?”
“Perfect. I feel silly now. You could have put all this into the mail to me, and I wouldn't have taken up your time. I appreciate your help.”
“When will the article appear in
JAMA
?”
JAMA
?”
Jane shrugged. “They never tell you. My guess would be spring. I'll let you know or send you a copy.” Enough with the small talk, she told herself. “I'm curious about something, Todd. Why did you come up to me and introduce yourself at the fund-raiser?”
“Well, IâI was just trying to be friendly, that's all. I was on the organizing committee.”
She could tell he was lying through his teeth, but that was to be expected. “Oh,” she said, laughing. “I thought you might have been looking for a good psychiatrist.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “No! I don't need a psychiatrist.”
“Don't say it like that. All of us need someone we can dump on from time to time. A psychiatrist is trained to listen, not to judge. You mean to tell me you don't have anything troubling in your life, past or present, that you'd like to talk to someone about?” she asked, setting the stage.
He shook his head. “Nope. 'Fraid not, Doc.”
“Tell me, do you ever go back to Slidell?”
“Not if I can help it,” he said, gulping at his drink. He signaled the waiter for a refill. “My mother passed away when I was a freshman in college, and my father moved to a retirement home in Coral Gables, Florida, to be closer to his two brothers. There's no reason to go back. Where is it you live again?”
“Rayne. Frog capital of the world. My practice is there. I was in Slidell recently. I stopped to see Connie's parents. I think they're still grieving. I guess you never get over the death of a child. You must have been devastated.”
“Oh, I was. I couldn't eat or sleep for months. Connie and I had so many plans for our wedding and our future. I didn't know what to do with myself for months afterward. Like I said before, I don't know why she did it. Her parents didn't know either. She didn't leave a note or anything. It was a terrible time. It finally got too much for me, so I moved to Crowley.” It was all said in a breathless rush as he reached up for his second drink.
Rehearsed
was the word that came to Jane's mind.
Rehearsed
was the word that came to Jane's mind.
Knowing she was about to drop a bomb, Jane picked up her drink and tried to act nonchalant. “Then you didn't hear the news. Connie did leave a note. But no one knew it until just recently. It seems she wrote it on her computer and saved it on a disk. Adele, Connie's mother, finally got up the courage to dismantle her daughter's room and wondered what Connie might have put on her computer. One of the disks had a secret password. She had a computer-savvy friend come over and crack the code for her. That's when they found the note.”
Jane heard Prentice's quick intake of breath and looked at him. All the blood had siphoned out of his face. He was white as a ghost.
“Todd, are you all right? Is something wrong with your drink?” she asked with feigned concern. She'd suspected he was in the mix somehow. Now she knew it.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's justâJesus, she left a note?”
“Really more of a letter, from what I understand,” Jane said, sipping from her glass. She detested mineral water. It was so blah! “I think the waiter wants to take our order now. I feel positively decadent with the holidays so I think I'll have the shrimp-and-lobster scampi with the pecan tulle for dessert. French dressing on the side, please.”
“Sir?”
“I'll have the same,” Todd said to the waiter. “You're right, Jane, it sounds decadent.” The color was back in his face, and his voice sounded normal.
He's quick to recuperate,
Jane thought, wishing his misery had lasted a little longer. But there was more to come. Much more. And she was patient.
Jane thought, wishing his misery had lasted a little longer. But there was more to come. Much more. And she was patient.
“Tell me something, Jane. Why is it you and I never met back in college? I thought I knew all of Connie's friends.”
Content with the way things were going, Jane offered him a smile. “I was one of those studious, bookworm types. When I wasn't in class, I think I spent every waking hour in the library. Connie and I shared the same dorm, but we didn't share the same friends. We would meet in my room and talk several times a week. Actually, we spent that night before our last final together in the library, then in my room.” She spread butter on her bread. “This French bread is soooo good. How do you stay so trim, Todd, if you eat here so often?”
“Good metabolism,” he responded vaguely. “I work out and play racquetball three days a week after work. You literally sweat bullets when you play racquetball.”
“I'll have to think about taking up the sport. I don't like to sweat, though,” Jane said, reaching for another slice of bread she didn't really want. “By the way, do you know Brian Ramsey?” Jane threw her hands in the air. “Now that was a stupid question. He played football with you, so of course you knew him. He lives and works in Rayne now, you know. I'll bet you miss playing football? You had some really good press back in college as I recall. The media loved the Bengal Tigers.” She bit off another bite of bread. “Mmm, this is so good,” she said, not wanting to lose her momentum even though her mouth was full. “I wonder if they buy it or make it fresh here. I could sit here and eat it all day long. Do you guys get together and hash over old plays and stuff like that? Jocks always do that in the movies.” She shook her head. “Lord, I don't know where half my old debating team is or the girls from the choir. I should make more of an effort to keep in touch, but I'm so busy these days. Isn't life strange, Todd? Whoever would have thought the two of us would be sitting here having lunch one day? Old bookworm Jane and superhero Todd of the awesome Bengal Tigers. So, where
do
you guys go when you get together?” Jane asked again, cutting into a cucumber on her salad plate. She pretended not to see Todd raise his arm for a third drink.
do
you guys go when you get together?” Jane asked again, cutting into a cucumber on her salad plate. She pretended not to see Todd raise his arm for a third drink.
“We try to get together during Mardi Gras in N'awlins. Usually one or two can't make it, but for the most part we all show up and party for a few days.”
“That's sweet. All you guys getting together. Bet your wife doesn't like that one bit,” Jane said as she popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. She crunched down on it and Todd blinked. “You aren't eating, Todd. This is a wonderful salad. Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“You're on your third drink, and you're staring off into space. Am I that boring?”
Todd offered up a sickly smile. “You're not boring at all. I had three
beignets
for breakfast, and all three were loaded with way too much sugar. I rarely eat much at lunchtime. Tell me, how
do
you handle being a shrink? Doesn't listening to other people's problems get to you?”
beignets
for breakfast, and all three were loaded with way too much sugar. I rarely eat much at lunchtime. Tell me, how
do
you handle being a shrink? Doesn't listening to other people's problems get to you?”
“Sometimes. But you have to listen to their problems to know how to help them. I often wish I could see them progress a little faster, but everyone has their own pace. Take Mr. and Mrs. Bryan for example. They should have talked to a counselor after Connie's death, but they didn't. I sat talking with them for days,” Jane lied. “I think I was a help to them. It was a very rewarding experience. I came away from there feeling much better. What comes to your mind when you think of Connie?” Jane asked, staring up at the waiter holding her luncheon plate.
When the waiter handed Todd his plate, Jane couldn't help but notice that he was looking pale again. “What's wrong, Todd? Isn't the scampi what you expected?”
“No, no, it's fine. It's those
beignets
I had for breakfast. I should have just stuck with the salad.”
beignets
I had for breakfast. I should have just stuck with the salad.”
“But you didn't eat your salad either. I'll have to come here more often. What were we saying, Todd?”
“I don't remember. The waiter came just as you asked me something, but I don't recall . . .” His voice was desperate-sounding.
Fork poised in midair, Jane offered up a winning smile. “I remember now. We were talking about Connie, and I asked you what comes to you when you think about her. Assuming, of course, that you do think of her after all these years.”
“Right. Now I remember,” Todd said, sticking his fork into a succulent piece of lobster that dripped butter. “College days. Our plans for the future. Getting married and having kids. That kind of thing. What about you?” He said, cleverly throwing the question back at her.
“I guess the way she dressed. She always had the neatest clothes. She liked to sew, I remember that. I can remember so clearly what she was wearing that last night. A pleated, red plaid skirt, a white sweater set, and Keds. She looked so . . . preppy, so collegiate. She left her clothes in my room that night. Do you believe that? I took them home with me when I left the following day. I think they're still in my old trunk. I meant to send them back, but never got around to it. Good intentions, that kind of thing. I guess it boils down to laziness on my part.” She pointed her fork at his plate. “I can't tell you what you are missing here, Todd. Shame on you for eating those
beignets
this morning. There's so much garlic in this scampi it's going to ooze out my pores any second.” One more bite and she was going to choke. “I think I'm going to pass on the dessert if you don't mind, Todd. Good Lord, would you look at the time. You won't be offended if I eat and run, will you?”
beignets
this morning. There's so much garlic in this scampi it's going to ooze out my pores any second.” One more bite and she was going to choke. “I think I'm going to pass on the dessert if you don't mind, Todd. Good Lord, would you look at the time. You won't be offended if I eat and run, will you?”
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