chapiter sixteen

"Claire is wise enough to keep her distance," predicted Finn with a gloomy look.

"What do you know about Jack Hogan?" asked Petula, intrigued by his remark.

"Nothing specific. He's a New Yorker, that's all. And I don't trust guys who live in big cities."

"That's ridiculous!" declared Petula.

"Forget what I said," Finn replied, anxious not to upset her. "If you feel like there's a connection between them, good for them. By the way, have you consulted your crystal ball?"

Petula smiled and, settling more comfortably into the chair, said:

"I'm not a fortune-teller, you know. Otherwise, I'd have set up my own practice by now. I just have… intuitions."

Resting her head on Finn's broad shoulder, Petula added:

"You're the embodiment of caution, Finn."

"Claire is wise enough to keep her distance," predicted Finn with a somber look.

"What do you know about Jack Hogan?" asked Petula, intrigued by his comment.

"Nothing in particular. He's from New York, that's all. And I don't trust guys who live in big cities."

"That's ridiculous!" Petula declared.

"Forget what I said," Finn added, worried he might have upset her. "If you think there's a spark between them, good for them. By the way, have you consulted your crystal ball?"

Petula smiled and, settling more comfortably into the armchair, replied:

"I'm not a psychic, you know. Otherwise, I'd already be running my own business. I just have… intuitions."

Resting her head on Finn's broad shoulder, Petula added:

"You're the embodiment of caution, Finn."

*"Still," she thought wickedly, "I'll drag you to the altar one way or another..."

Claire dropped off her friend Chise, then returned to the Tansy Villa to get ready. She chose a flowing black skirt and a yellow jersey blouse. She then pinned her hair up into a bun on top of her head, letting a few strands fall to frame her face nicely. Using a big brush, she dabbed some blush on her cheeks and stepped back to judge the effect in the mirror.

Wasn't she a bit too dressed up? Usually, on Friday nights, she curled up in the porch swing in shorts and a T-shirt, lost in the pages of a good novel.

Grabbing her lipstick, she applied a light coat and declared to her reflection in the mirror:

"Come on, a girl's gotta eat! There's nothing left in my fridge. And anyway, if I don't keep an eye on Jack Hogan, who will?"

"Half the women on the island!" she added silently as she headed for the door.

Claire parked in her reserved spot in front of City Hall, grateful that her position guaranteed her a place no matter what. Both sides of Island Avenue were lined with cars, and if she'd been an ordinary citizen, she probably would've driven around in circles for half an hour in her Lexus looking for a free space.

As she passed by her boutique, she was happy to see Sue Ann and Ronda, a college student who worked weekends, busy with customers. She continued on, feeling light-hearted.

No doubt Jack had chosen a restaurant on the waterfront, she thought. As a city dweller, he probably enjoyed a view of the gulf while he ate. Not spotting him on any of the terraces, she immediately went upstairs to avoid the band playing every Friday on the ground floor—and found herself in a sea of tourists. The men wore Hawaiian shirts or nautical tees, while the women flaunted strappy dresses. The scent of sunscreen and coconut mingled with aromas drifting from the kitchen.

"Good evening, Madam Mayor," chirped the restaurant owner cheerfully.

"Good evening, Heather. How's the family?"

"Doing well, thank you."

Handing her three menus, the hostess said:

"I'm guessing you're here to dine with Jaune and Petula?"

"No… I'm alone tonight."

Wanting to explain herself, Claire added:

"I came to take the island's temperature on a Friday night."

"You all agreed to keep an eye on the town tonight!" Heather laughed. "Billy and Lou just finished eating and left. Where would you like to sit?"

"Inside, near the patio," she replied. A strategic spot to watch what was going on both inside and out...

"Follow me," said Heather. "You'll be close to the kitchen door—hope that's not a problem?"

"Not at all," Claire replied.

She followed the hostess across the restaurant—when she spotted Jack, dining at a table. And unlike her, he wasn't alone.

Eyes fixed on Jack and Patty Barnes, Claire grabbed Heather by the arm and said:

"Wait a second. I've changed my mind."

"Excuse me?"

Claire had no desire to face Jack Hogan and his date. He was sipping a cocktail nonchalantly, while his companion—her hair glowing nearly red in the candlelight, her wide smile lighting up her whole face—was turning on the full charm.

"On second thought, I'd rather eat on the terrace," Claire said. "A bit of fresh air would do me good."

"No problem," said Heather, changing direction. "Wait here, I'll check for an available table."

She disappeared before Claire could follow. Left alone, Claire focused on a poster of a ship with a voluptuous figurehead—whose neckline was as plunging as Patty Barnes's.

Unable to resist, Claire glanced again at the couple... and concluded that Jack must be the most entertaining man on Earth! Patty kept laughing and glowing. Claire stared, amazed. Patty was now toying with the pendant hanging from her neck, nestled right in her cleavage, drawing Jack's attention exactly where she wanted it.

"If he's dumb enough to fall for that trick, there's no hope for him," she muttered.

"I found you a spot, Claire."

Startled, she spun around, as if caught spying.

"You were admiring the new New Yorker, weren't you?" Heather said with a knowing smile.

"Uh... no... I was just..."

With one hand on her hip, the hostess looked at Jack and said with an appreciative gaze:

"I get it. He is very attractive."

"Did you find me a table?" Claire asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, a table for two by the railing. The waiter's setting it up now."

"Perfect."

A few minutes later, Claire scanned the menu but couldn't find anything that stirred her appetite—especially since she couldn't eat shellfish. She eventually chose turkey filet with green peppercorn sauce and mashed potatoes. She also ordered a glass of wine, hoping it would calm her and help her forget the scene she had just witnessed.

Alas! Even halfway through her glass, the image was still stuck in her mind. Jack Hogan was haunting her, she admitted, annoyed. And any effort to put him out of her thoughts was completely wiped out when his imposing figure appeared in front of her table.

"I saw you come in. Are you expecting someone?" he asked with a warm smile.

"No... uh, yes, but I'm guessing this person won't be coming anymore."

"Stood up, huh?"

The phrase irritated her.

"It wasn't a date, contrary to what you seem to think," she replied.

Pointing to the empty chair across from her, he asked:

"Mind if I sit?"

She gave a vague nod, and Jack quickly took the seat.

"What was it then?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"If it wasn't a romantic date..."

"A business dinner," Claire cut in.