He'd taken to reading all the papers he could get his hands on while she was away. He was compelled to know what she was up to, no matter how it stung to see those photographs of her at some event, sparkling and lovely, on the arm of some handsome, wealthy, distinguished older gentleman. He tried without success to refrain from comparing himself to these men. If the photographs were any indication, Jessica had a type, and it wasn't him.
Sometimes, he traced a gentle finger across her photograph. She was such a beautiful woman, and she seemed to be unaware of her charms. Of course she took more care with her appearance now. That stood to reason. She'd always been attractive, but now something was different. It wasn't just the money, though she looked very prosperous…another factor that pushed Seth even more firmly out of her league. What could he offer her? Fishing? Chess? Cooking? He wasn't a bad cook.
No, it wasn't only the money. It was confidence. The woman radiated confidence. She was comfortable, now, in her new life as a successful author, and, Seth admitted grudgingly, her success as an amateur detective. The papers played up her involvement in several of the murder investigations she'd helped to close. He read every article and challenged her when the facts of the article didn't quite match up to those she'd shared with him. He knew she kept things from him, and it aggravated him only part of the time. Some of the time he found it…endearing.
He smiled grimly. No, it was foolish, numb even, to lose his heart to Jessica Fletcher. Had Frank known what he was doing? Not for the first time Seth searched his memories of Frank, of that final private conversation. No, no. He couldn't believe Frank had any motive other than seeing his beloved Jessie looked after. Seth was sure he couldn't have known, couldn't even suspect this might happen. No. He was alone in this.
Jane cleared her throat. Not exactly alone, then. She knew his secret, but when their eyes met, it wasn't pity he saw there, not exactly. She had too much respect for Seth to feel that emotion. It wasn't sorrow, exactly. No, it was exactly the look his mother used to give him when he wanted something that was so obviously out of reach. Wordlessly he handed her the papers and, blessedly, she took them without any fuss or bother. Jane was a good soul. Why couldn't he have fallen in love with her? Because she didn't have that spark.
He sighed and headed toward the shelves where the cookbooks were kept. May as well make this a profitable library visit. After all, Jessica always complimented his cooking, and she enjoyed helping him prepare more sophisticated, complex meals. He could find something here to surprise and delight her. At least from the culinary perspective. How he wished he could be the one to…he came to his senses. Here he was, standing in the middle of the library with that he was sure was a gormless smile on his face. Of all the… He wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. All he could do now was put one foot in front of the other and go about his business as quietly as possible, waiting for Jessica to return.
"When will you ever stop gallivanting around, woman?" he grumbled. Jessica laughed, which only served to deepen his scowl. "I mean it! Murder seems to follow you wherever you go. It worries me," he finished quietly.
Jessica, who had been slicing a piece of pie for him, turned suddenly and put a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to grasp it, and her heart lurched. She pulled her hand free. "Now, Seth," she said briskly. "On no account are you to worry over me. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She turned to finish plating his piece of pie. She set it in front of him, then took the coffee pot from the stove and freshened his cup. Seth grunted, and she laughed.
"What?"
"You. You needn't worry about me. I'm always in good hands."
"I see that. Hear it, too."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said."
Jessica turned to face him. "Just exactly what do you mean?"
"What I said, woman. I hear that you're in good hands."
"What's this all about?"
Seth's expression hardened. "When were you going to tell me?"
Jessica looked perplexed. "Tell you what?"
Seth exhaled sharply. "I thought we'd been through this before. I thought we were friends. And friends tell each other news. A friend doesn't let the people in her life pick up important news via gossip." He threw down his napkin and scraped his chair back from the table. "I ought to be going."
Jessica put a hand on his arm. "Wait," she commanded. Seth stopped, angry with himself for halting, for the traitorous lift of his heart. Jessica waited a moment. "Won't you turn around, Seth?" He turned, slowly, and she was shocked to see the hurt in his eyes. "Oh, Seth. What is it? What's the matter?"
"I was down to the diner this morning. Eve came bustling in, nattering on about some detective named Harry something or other." He cleared his throat to cover the crack in his voice. "That you were only home briefly before going back to Boston to marry." He lifted his eyes to her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jessica schooled her features. How could Eve be so deliberately cruel? For several months now, Jessica had suspected that Seth's feelings ran more deeply for her. That he was in love with her. She wasn't quite sure how she felt. She cared for Seth. She enjoyed his company; he made her laugh, he took care of her, took care of the house while she was away. Chivvied and scolded her, made sure she ate properly, rested. He was a good friend. Her best friend, if she were being scrupulously honest. But did she love him? Could she love him? Could she risk losing him? She couldn't answer those questions, not now. First she had to put his mind at ease. Later, she could think about what it was she really wanted.
"Seth," she said firmly. "I'm not engaged to Harry McGraw. That was Eve being…well, Eve!" She took in his stricken face. "I'm not going to marry Harry, Seth. I'm not going to marry anybody!" Jessica stopped abruptly, surprised by her own admission. Was that really true?
Seth looked at her carefully. It was good to hear that she wasn't marrying that man and moving to Boston. Or was it New York? No matter. Perhaps they could go on as before. He looked at her again, her face a curious mix of shock and calm. What could it all mean? Jessica seldom said things she didn't mean. She wasn't going to marry again. Well. At least he could have her friendship. He dropped his head and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jess," he murmured.
"No apology necessary, Seth," she said briskly. "I hope you know that I would never share something…important…like that with Eve. Not without telling you first. I don't have many friends here in Cabot Cove, and I count you as one. Is that wrong?"
"No, Jess. I'm glad to be your friend. I just…overreacted, that's all. You know how I hate change."
Jessica laughed to cover the awkward silence. "Indeed I do! Who else in this day and age writes out his notes by hand?"
"Only because neither Beverly nor I knows how to type."
"I see," said Jessica, who nodded sagely, then laughed. "Well, don't look at me. I've got enough to do without typing up your notes."
Seth was quiet for a moment. "I do…I do worry, Jess. I worry about you, the risks you take."
"I'm fine, Seth. I'm always just fine."
"So you say, but still…"
"Seth, I'm fine."
Seth swallowed the words that were just sitting on the tip of his tongue. He knew that look. "Well, woman…how long are you gonna make me wait for that piece of pie?"
Jessica smoothed her night cream into her face, staring thoughtfully out the window. Seth left hours ago, yet she'd wandered through the house, unable to settle. Finally she pulled some old photo albums from the bookshelf and started flipping through them. They'd been so young when they married. She was just barely 21 and Frank hadn't been much older. Not two pennies to their name, but that hadn't mattered. Jessica had never been one for material possessions, and besides, her faith in Frank had been unwavering. She knew he'd be a good provider, and so he had. When he died, there had been enough money to pay off the mortgage. He'd left instructions for the remainder of the money to be invested carefully, the proceeds of which provided a small monthly stipend. Enough to cover her living expenses, but not much else. At the time, it didn't matter. She hadn't envisioned a life without Frank, a life for herself. She wondered what he might think of the money that kept pouring in.
She knew he'd appreciate the changes to her appearance. She'd lost weight, started going to the beauty shop regularly rather than cutting her own hair. She'd bought new clothes with an eye to what was appropriate, but also flattering. Even Seth had noticed.
Seth. What was troubling her about Seth? She enjoyed her life now. Writing was hard, but rewarding. She certainly enjoyed the perks of being a bestselling author, though she still found it hard to believe. She loved traveling and, she could admit without shame, the opportunities she had to meet men. She enjoyed flirting; it made her feel alive, sexy even, though she never carried things too far. A goodnight kiss, perhaps, but since Preston, she'd guarded her heart carefully. She would never allow herself to betray Frank again.
Certain men she found…intriguing. Michael Hagerty, for one. Dashing, mysterious, fun. Harry, a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. They were interesting and appealing, but more like dessert. Best sampled sparingly. She didn't want any attachments. She didn't want to be tied down. She loved Seth. She did. He had been her rock after Frank died, appearing at odd, sometimes inopportune, moments to chivvy her into eating, dressing, reading. Getting out and engaging with life again. Where she was content to turn Candlewood Lane into her own personal mausoleum, Seth threw open the curtains and reminded her that the world could be beautiful in spite of the pain.
He had been a good friend; a good friend to them both. She suspected Frank asked Seth to look in on her from time to time, suspecting that the two might become friends and knowing that Jessica would need at least one friend. She never had been close to the women in this town.
Her eye fell on the clock. 11:20…scandalously late for Cabot Cove. There was time enough to sort out her tangled feelings about Seth. She didn't want to lose him, but she wasn't quite sure how to keep him without hurting them both.
Seth lay awake, tossing and turning. He'd been a fool. He ought to have known Eve was sewing a vest onto a button, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. He panicked at the thought of losing Jessica, because he would lose her if she married again, no matter what she had to say about it.
Oh, she could talk a good game about remaining friends, how Seth and this new husband of hers would make good fishing buddies. He suppressed a shudder. He could just imagine how well that might go. Things would change. They'd have to. He'd have to let her go.
He turned again and thumped his pillow. It was foolish to wish he hadn't fallen in love with Jessica. He had, and there was precious little he could do about it. He just had to find a way to live with it.