Chapter 3 - You Click Like No One Does

Seth typically did his shopping on Wednesdays during his lunch break. He preferred that time; he'd made something of a study of peak shopping times in Cabot Cove, and Wednesdays around noon were a good time for him to be in the market. The store restocked every Tuesday morning, so the mad rush was over but there was still plenty left to choose from. And he wouldn't run into very many people at all. He could see Ruthie's smirk in his mind's eye. Alright, women, he admitted grudgingly. Single women. He tried not to be too predictable, but it was no use. He always did like a schedule. He ought to have discreetly checked out Loretta's to see when the worst of them had their weekly beauty shop appointments. He'd noticed that lot had sort of ganged together. He wished he could avoid the whole lot of them, but then he'd have to move, and he had no intention of doing that ever again. No sir. He was in Cabot Cove to stay, and no troublesome women were going to chase him away.

He pulled his list from his shirt pocket with one hand and studied it as he wheeled a buggy out of the rack with his other. "Seth Hazlitt, you'll never find saffron threads in McIntyre's," he muttered to himself.

"I shouldn't think you would," Jessica Fletcher responded lightly. Seth jumped at the sound and somehow managed to run his buggy right into hers.

Flustered, he dropped his list as he doffed his cap. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Fletcher."

"Afternoon, Dr. Hazlitt." She smiled and bent down to retrieve his shopping list. She gave it a cursory glance before handing it back to him. "Bouillabaise?" She raised her eyebrows.

"What of it?" returned Seth gruffly, then he paused. "Wait. How did you know? It's just a list of ingredients."

"Yes, but tomatoes, garlic, fennel, saffron threads? Plus all the seafood? What else could it be?"

Jessica Fletcher was sharp. He'd give her that. He looked her over thoughtfully. He'd not seen her out and about much. The last time he'd had occasion to speak to her was at Frank's funeral and that had been a full 6 months ago. Or more. Time had a way of slipping right past him. She didn't drive, he knew; she walked or rode her bike. He'd seen her biking through town often enough in the past. He glanced out the plate glass window; sure enough her bike was propped up against the rack.

She looked well, if you didn't know any better. A bit pale, perhaps, and her clothes hung a little loose on her frame. But she was smiling and looking at him expectantly.

He answered her unspoken question, if a bit gruffly. "Yes, yes. Alright. Thought I'd try my hand at bouillabaisse." He paused, a little embarrassed for some reason. Why should I care what she thinks? "I've been trying to do a little cooking. Something to do, you know."

Her face darkened briefly. "As it happens, I do." She straightened and reached out for her buggy. "Well. I've my own shopping to do, Dr. Hazlitt. Best of luck with the saffron threads." She nodded smartly.

"A-yuh," he replied, but she was already clattering elegantly down the produce aisle.

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Seth ran into her again some weeks later at the library. She was tucked away in a corner near the periodicals with some rather strange books scattered about. Though he couldn't say he knew Mrs. Fletcher well, being a doctor had given him ample opportunity to practice sizing people up. She was friendly and outgoing as he'd thought initially, but there was something else...an aspect of herself that she held in reserve. She was private, as Seth himself tended to be. Personally, he was a great respecter of privacy, though at times his profession demanded that he do everything in his power to pierce a patient's secrecy. Though he was sorely tempted, he didn't allow his gaze to linger on those books. If she wanted him, or anyone else for that matter, to know what she was about, she'd tell them herself.

She was an intriguing woman.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up, distracted. Seth marveled again at the brilliant blue of her eyes. Irish. She had to have some Irish in her family tree. He collected himself and doffed his cap. "Morning, Mrs. Fletcher."

"Oh, good morning, Dr. Hazlitt." She was quiet for a moment. "How did your bouillabaisse come off? Were you able to find the saffron threads?"

He laughed. "No, as a matter of fact I wasn't. I ended up just leaving them out. Had to use fennel seeds instead of the bulb, too. It turned out alright, even though I did get tired of eating it after awhile. It's hard to cut down a recipe for one."

"Mmm," she murmured.

Seth gestured to the pile of books on the table. "You look mighty busy there. Anything interesting?"

"Oh, just a little of this and that," she hedged. Was she trying to shift one or two of the books out of the way? "What brings you to the library today? Looking for more recipes?" Her smile was so open and friendly that it set him back on his heels, but only just a bit. So different from the almost chilly reception he'd received at McIntyre's.

"I might be in the market for a new cookbook. Maybe a western or two. Thought I'd see if they had the latest Louis L'Amour."

"Jubal Sacket? I finished it last week."

"You're a fan of westerns?"

"Frank was," Jessica said quietly.

"I see." Seth cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, Louis L'Amour is one of the best."

"I gathered that." Jessica smiled softly.

"Well," said Seth, twirling his cap in his hands, "I'll go see what books you've left for the rest of us. Morning." She nodded, and he turned to go. "Mrs. Fletcher?"

She looked up from her stack of books. "Yes?"

"Do you ever play chess?"

"Chess? I have in the past, though I'm not sure I was ever any good. Why do you ask?"

"Well, drop by if you ever fancy a match. I keep a board in the office." He didn't, but he'd go right home and put one out for Jessica Fletcher. Something about that woman intrigued him. He hadn't run across anyone in Cabot Cove with a mind as sharp as hers. He thought they might have something in common.

Jessica looked at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps I'll do that, Doctor Hazlitt. And you should call me Jessica."

He jerked his chin at her and walked away. He'd talked enough today. At least to people who could talk back.

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"Doc? Yoo-hoo, Doc?"

"What?" Seth hollered from upstairs.

"Why'd you put a board down here, Doc?"

"What did you say?" Seth called back.

Beverly came to the foot of the stairs. "I say, why'd you put a board downstairs?"

"Board?"

"A chess board," Beverly hollered exasperatedly.

Seth appeared at the head of the stairs. "No reason to shout, Beverly!" He pulled against his tie to make sure it was straight. Ruthie had always done that for him. He began walking down the stairs. "You were saying?"

Beverly heaved a dramatic sigh. "I've been asking you, Doc. Why'd you put a chess board down here?" Her tone suggested at least mild disapproval, and she almost glared at the board itself. "After I had the reception area all settled, too."

"I suppose, Beverly, that I thought somebody might like to play. And I further suppose that I thought the waiting area-"

"Reception!"

He bowed facetiously in her direction. "Reception would be as good as spot as any! Now don't I have the right to put a chess board anywhere in this place I choose?"

"Now don't get huffy, Doc! Course you have the right. I just wish you would've asked me first is all. I might have had a different spot for it." After seeing Doc's face, Beverly hastily collected her appointment book and opened it to today's date. "You've got Mrs. Williams first up, Doc."

"A-yuh," Seth grunted, then turned and pointed a finger at Beverly. "You see that board stays put, you hear?"

"My, my, my. Awfully touchy about that old chess set, aren't you, Doc?"

"Never you mind. This is not only my office; it's also my home. And in my home, I'll have things where I want 'em!"

"Of course you will, Doc. Course you will," Beverly soothed. She stared at his retreating back. Odd to make such a fuss over a small thing like a chess set. Beverly shrugged. One thing about Doc. It wouldn't take her long to find out what was eating him. He was like an open book.

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"Hmph. I suppose I did growl at Beverly, didn't I? Don't know why I did that." He chuckled. Seth could almost hear Ruthie say, "Don't you?"

"I suppose I do know why, my dear. Beverly, sterling though she is, does have one tremendous fault. She's a terrible gossip. She repeats everything she hears to me-at least I think she does-and lord knows what she tells her cronies over at the beauty shop. Course she keeps all the patient details confidential. She is a good nurse; I'll give her that."

Seth paused, embarrassed. "I just didn't want her to find out about my conversation with Mrs. Fletcher." He looked upward, though why he did so was a mystery to him. Pure foolishness, but so was talking to Ruthie. In for a penny. "I don't want to scare her off. Mrs. Fletcher, I mean." He paused. "Jessica." Her Christian name felt almost formal in his mouth. Jessica, he repeated silently, then picked up the thread of his earlier conversation. "I doubt there's anything I could do to scare off Beverly," he muttered darkly. "I think we could be friends, Ruthie." He growled. "Jessica, I mean. Not Beverly. She's an intelligent woman. Observant. Probably make a good opponent."

Seth wandered over to where he'd set up the latest board in reception. "Hmph." He wondered idly if he should prepare the board or just allow them to play and see what happened. Should he make it appear as though a match were already in progress? He rolled his eyes. "Good grief, man. You don't even know if she'll be a worthy opponent." He could almost here Ruthie saying "Don't you?" in her gentle, knowing way. What had he gotten himself into?

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Jessica surprised Seth by dropping in the following week during his lunch break. She'd chosen a Tuesday, almost as if she'd known he wouldn't be running any errands then.

Jessica poked her head through the open door that led to his office and examination room. "Is this a good time?'

He leaned back in his chair. "A good time for what?"

She looked at him shrewdly. "I think you know for what." She looked around the room, then turned to look behind her. "Ah, there it is! Do you prefer white or black?"

"No preference. You have to play both at some point. If you're serious."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "And are you serious?"

Seth smiled. "My wife would say so." He paused. "Would have said so," he corrected.

"Would she have?" Jessica asked gently.

"And then some." Seth paused for a moment. "I expect you've heard I'm a widower." Jessica nodded. "I expect you've heard a great many things about me."

Jessica gave him an amused look, and he held up his hands in defense. "I'm not being arrogant," he hurried to say. "It's just that this is a small town. Hasn't changed much in the last 30 years. Tongues wag faster than puppy dogs' tails in a town this size."

"And you're not worried?"

"Worried?" Seth boomed. "Worried about what?"

"The Cabot Cove gossip mill?" She raised her eyebrows. "After all, I stopped by outside of normal business hours." He would swear she almost winked at him. This was a different Mrs. Fletcher-Jessica, he thought impatiently-lively and mischievous.

"And what would two old friends have to worry over that?"

She laughed. "We're not old friends!"

"Not yet, Mrs. Fletcher. Not yet. But I think we will be." She raised her eyebrows at him and he smiled. "Jessica." He pulled out a chair for her and gestured for her to sit. When she settled, he pushed her chair in towards the board. "But first," he said, rubbing his hands together, "I'm gonna beat the socks off you." He sat opposite her and waited as she made her opening gambit.

AN: This story takes place almost exclusively from Seth's POV. I'm in the planning stages of a complementary story that will be from Jessica's POV. I hope to have it done by the time I finish posting this one. Thanks so much for all the kind reviews. I really appreciate them!