Trouble in Paradise

Thirty-Five

Jesse met Abby Taylor at the Gray Gull. Abby had a martini. Jesse ordered beer. Abby noticed but said nothing. Jesse smiled and raised his glass toward Abby.

“Old times,” he said.

Abby tapped her glass against his.

“Good times,” she said.

“Yes.”

The bar was crowded. The outside deck was closed for the season, and most of the tables inside were full.

“But I didn’t ask you to meet me just for that,” Abby said.

Jesse nodded.

“Kay Hopkins is going to try and have you removed as chief,” Abby said. “The two gay guys whose house was burned...”

“Canton and Brown,” Jesse said.

“Yes. They’re proceeding with their civil suit, and I imagine the Hopkins will have to settle, because they don’t want to get into court and have your tapes played.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Jesse said.

“But she’s not willing to let it go. ”

“Mrs. Hopkins.”

“Yes. She feels you have misused her darling boys, and then misused your office to suggest a civil suit. She’s going to get you.”

“If she can,” Jesse said.

“She’s already talked with Morris Comden. You know Morris.”

“Morris is not like a rock,” Jesse said.

Doc came down the bar. “Another round?” he said.

Abby nodded. Jesse shrugged. He still had half a beer in front of him. He wasn’t crazy about beer. Which was why he was drinking it.

“Talk to Nick Petrocelli about this,” Abby said. “Don’t take her lightly. She is vicious and driven. She needs to get her own way. And she’s not used to being thwarted.”

“Beware a woman scorned,” Jesse said.

Doc served the second round. Abby had a good pull on her second martini.

“Like me,” she said.

Whoops, Jesse thought.

“I thought you scorned me,” he said.

“I suppose I did.”

“You’re not the first,” Jesse said.

Abby took one of the olives out of her martini and ate it. “I gather that Jenn is still in town.”

“Yes.”

“How are you and she doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Abby said.

“The truth,” Jesse said. “I don’t quite know what our relationship is or how it’s going to turn out.”

“How would you like it to turn out?”

Jesse drank some of his first beer.

“She says she’s not the same person.”

Abby took another drink. “So?”

“If that’s true...”

“You want to be with her,” Abby said.

“If I can be.”

Abby nodded her head slowly and kept nodding it. “What’s she say?” Abby asked.

“She says we’re two single adults, and we can date each other and other people and see where it all leads.”

“Does she want to be with you?”

“She does and she doesn’t,” Jesse said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Abby said.

She finished her martini and nodded at Doc.

“It means she wants to be with me, and she doesn’t want to be with me,” Jesse said. “I think the shrinks call it ambivalence.”

“And you’re supposed to wait around until she decides?”

“If I want to,” Jesse said.

“And you want to?”

Doc brought Abby a fresh drink. He looked at Jesse, who shook his head. Doc went away.

“If I can be with Jenn, I will be,” Jesse said carefully.

Abby was silent, slowly twirling the stem of her martini glass on the bar. Jesse was quiet, waiting. Abby’s eyes began to tear. Jesse took in some air.

“And what about us?”

“I thought we were history,” Jesse said.

“I thought we were too,” Abby said. “I was wrong. I was frightened by what happened last year. I was frightened by how hard you were. I didn’t understand.”

“And now you don’t mind? Or now there’s nothing frightening going on?”

“Now I understand.”

Jesse nodded. Abby was starting to slur her S’s.

“There’s no reason, in the short run at least, why we can’t see each other,” Jesse said. “You seeing anyone else?”

“I’ve been dating Paul Graveline. ”

“You like him?”

“Very much.”

He remembered how she’d looked naked, how she’d been in bed. He liked the memory. Abby stopped twirling her glass and looked up at him. The tears had spilled from her eyes and were now running down her face.

“But?” Jesse said.

“But... I love you, Jesse.”

“That’s not a good idea, Abby.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never pretended,” Jesse said. “I’ve always told you the truth.”

“I know. You said, ‘Abby, don’t put all your eggs in my basket.’”

Jesse nodded. He drank some more beer. He wanted more lift than the beer gave him. Seated alone at a table for two across the room was Harry Smith’s wife. Jesse remembered her from the Race Regatta Cotillion where he’d seen her and Harry with Marcy Campbell. She had a nearly full glass of red wine in front of her.

“But I did,” Abby said.

Jesse didn’t have anything to say.

Mrs. Smith across the room was still at her table alone, her wine glass was still more full than empty. She seemed comfortable drinking alone at the table.

“Even if you were back with Jenn, somehow...” Abby said. She paused to finish her martini. “Even if you were, we could still maybe have our little relationship on the side.”

“Maybe not,” Jesse said. “It’s too complicated for me to say yes and no to anything, but maybe we couldn’t.”

Abby with the tears running down her face, gestured at Doc for another drink. Doc looked at Jesse. Jesse nodded. Shutting her off now would not be smart, he thought. Doc brought her the drink and gave Jesse another look. Jesse shrugged. Abby drank half her drink and slid off the bar stool and put her arms around Jesse’s neck and kissed him hard. He should stop this now, he thought. But he didn’t. Abby finished kissing him and leaned away, her arms still around his neck.

“Tell me you didn’t like that,” she said.

“I won’t tell you that.”

“Tell me you don’t want me to come home with you.”

He should stop this now. “I won’t tell you that either,” he said.

She pressed in close against him again and kissed him with her mouth open. Jesse always felt he was on display in the town where everyone knew he was the chief of police. Just as he would never allow himself to get drunk in public, he didn’t want to be seen necking in public. He was uncomfortable and thick and intense. This must be ambivalence, he thought.

With her lips brushing his and her pelvis pressed against him, Abby whispered, “Take me home, Jesse.”

“Yes,” he said.

They left the Gray Gull with Abby clinging to him. He wasn’t sure if it was desire or dizziness. Probably both, he decided.

When they were gone, Mrs. Smith got up and walked to the bar and spoke to Doc.

“The young woman with Chief Stone,” Faye said. “She looks so familiar to me. What is her name?”

“Abby Taylor, ma’am.”

“She live here in town?”

“Yes ma’am, used to be town counsel.”

“I’m sure we’ve met. You wouldn’t know if she went to Wellesley College, would you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Faye smiled at him. “Well, no matter,” she said. “Next time I see her, I’ll ask her.”