Final Draft by Shelley Burbank
Chapter Two
When Henry Wordsworth Longfellow wrote the words, “Into each life some rain must fall,” the Portland poet must have been inspired by April on the coast of Maine.
A steady shower pattered against Liv’s red umbrella as she crossed the street against the light. There was little traffic downtown on such a raw Sunday morning. Only a few automobile lights reflected red and yellow streaks off the slick, wet roads crisscrossing Portland’s Old Port.
At least it wasn’t snow, she thought, but anyone with sense would be home curled up in their squishy chair, reading the Sunday Telegram and drinking coffee. If not for her mandatory once-a-month Sunday brunch with her parents, that’s just what she’d be doing.
The historic Portland Regency Hotel rose just ahead, and she picked up her pace so as not to be too late. She’d tried on and discarded several outfits that morning, finally settling on skinny jeans, an oversized sweater, a raincoat, and a pair of high-end rain boots. A brown fedora completed the look. Her mother would frown at the jeans. Her father would compliment her on the hat. And her feet would stay dry. Win. Win. Win.
Liv reached the hoteland shook out her umbrella before stepping inside. She checked her raincoat and the umbrella, glanced in the mirror to make sure her lipstick wasn’t smudged, and made her way to her parents’ usual table in the center of the hotel’s warm and intimate dining room.
A cheery fire blazed in the brick fireplace. The subtle clink of utensils against tableware blended with the groovy jazz playing on the sound system. The familiar aroma of bacon, good coffee, and scones smelled delicious. Okay, so maybe she didn’t completely hate Sunday brunch. In some ways, it was a comforting ritual.
Comforting, with one major exception.
“Hello, Olivia,” her mother said, holding out her cheek for a kiss.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She took her seat and placed a linen napkin in her lap. “Sorry I’m late. Did you order already?”
“Of course not.” Her mother sipped her mimosa. “We did tell the server to bring coffee and scones as soon as you arrived. In case you arrived.”
“You know I’d call if I couldn’t make it.” Liv turned to her father. “How have you been, Dad?”
“I’ve been fine, Olivia. Just fine.”
“The hospital merger still on track?”
Gilbert Lively nodded. “Yes, thank you for asking. I believe it will be very beneficial to our staff and patients once the MainePatientCare merger is finally completed. Not everyone agrees, of course, but they’ll come around.”
She noted the exhausted droop of his face. “Still having PR problems?”
“Oh, just the usual. A few glitches with systems and whatnot, and some of the newspaper editorials have been brutal, but we’ll manage. How’s the investigation business going?”
“Don’t encourage her, Gilbert,” Tiffany Lively interrupted. She turned to Liv. “I understand you attended the Glitterati Ball last night. The Telling Room is a wonderful organization, Olivia. I’m so pleased.” Tiffany smiled at her.
Feeling irritated about Tiffany keeping tabs on her and also a little guilty, Liv shrugged. All her mother ever wanted was for her only daughter to graduate from a prestigious university, marry well, and take her place in the Livelys’ social circle. Not only had Liv failed to snag an appropriate husband, but she’d also chosen an embarrassing and potentially dangerous profession.
In Tiffany Lively’s world, a career as a private detective, or as she liked to put it, “snooping around in other people’s affairs,” was low-class and certainly not a topic for polite conversation.
Then again, no matter what she did, her mother found something to criticize. She might as well please herself, she rationalized. At least one of them would be happy. Ish.
She decided to throw Tiffany a conversational bone. “I did attend the ball. It was fun. In fact, I picked up a Rick Hamilton in the silent auction.”
No sense telling her mother she’d also picked up a potential new case.
Her mother sat back, looking pleased. “That’s fantastic. Tell me all about…”
Her mother’s voice trailed off as a man walked up to their table. Liv’s eyes traveled from his dotted tie and navy blue cardigan to his dark and tousled hair, damp from rain. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” the man said. His voice was warm, his wide smile slightly crooked.
Liv sucked in a breath. Hello.
“Jasper!” Tiffany beamed a thousand-watt smile. Gilbert glanced at Liv and quickly away.
Suspicious, Liv looked from one to the other and then up at the beautiful man who looked like he dressed straight from the Ralph Lauren catalog.
“Good morning, Tiffany. Gilbert.” He put up his hand as Liv’s father started to stand. “Please. Don’t get up.”
Liv’s father lowered himself back onto the chair.
“Are you here alone?” Tiffany said, gesturing to the chair next to her. “Won’t you join us for breakfast?”
Liv narrowed her eyes as this Jasper, whoever he was, thanked her mother and seated himself at their table. A server materialized, briskly organizing a fourth place setting. Another server poured coffee. Liv’s suspicions grew.
Tiffany made the introductions. “Olivia, I’d like you to meet Dr. Jasper Temple. Jasper, my daughter, Olivia.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jasper said, looking across the table at Liv. His eyes were surrounded by spiky, dark lashes. He was long-limbed and rangy, and his hands looked too big for the teaspoon he’d picked up. Elegant fingers, she thought, watching him stir cream into his coffee.
Score one for mom, Liv thought. Not that she was interested in a set-up. Which this definitely was.
Liv sat back and tilted her head. “So, Dr. Temple, how do you know my parents?”
Gilbert answered. “Jasper is the newest cardiothoracic surgeon at Sharon Medical Center. We met a few weeks ago at a presentation regarding the merger into MainePatientCare, and then we ran into each other again last night at a dinner party.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “Your mother raved about the brunch here. This seems like family time, though. If you’d rather I sat somewhere else…?” Dr. Hottie’s voice trailed off, and he shot a thumb over his shoulder, indicating he would make himself scarce. Liv glanced at her mother. Tiffany gave her the death-glare.
Liv lifted one shoulder in a who-cares kind of way. “No, no. The more, the merrier.” She had to admit he had a pretty great smile. She liked his eyelashes, too, and the blue eyes they surrounded. “The Lobster Benedict here is to die for.”
When their plates arrived and they’d tucked in, Dr. Hottie rolled his eyes upward and expelled a blissful sigh. “You were so right, Tiffany. This place is my idea of heaven. Forget Sunday services. Give me brunch at the Regency.”
He was so goofy and at ease with himself, Liv couldn’t help but play along. “Welcome to the Lively family branch of the Church of the Mystical Mimosa,” she said, placing her palms together like a prayer. A waiter arrived with a fresh plate of pastries. She shot Jasper a devilish grin. “And behold the Most Holy Platter of Warm Blueberry Scone.”
Jasper grinned back and reached for a pastry. “Bless you, Sister. Don’t mind if I do.” His eyes met hers as he leaned forward, and Liv’s heart jumped. They held each other’s gaze for a few breathtaking seconds while everything around them blurred.
She broke eye contact, unnerved by the attraction humming between them. This was going to be a problem, she thought. She couldn’t actually like a guy her mom approved of. She glanced up at him again, and he winked at her. Damn, that was sexy.
Tiffany, holding up her mimosa, interrupted the moment. “Here’s to new friends,” she said, batting her eyelash extensions at Jasper. The gold bracelets on her wrist clinked ever-so-elegantly as she lifted her arm.
“To friendship and future endeavors,” said Gilbert, tapping his glass against his wife’s and then Liv’s and Jasper’s in turn.
“Yes, future endeavors,” Tiffany echoed, looking far too pleased with herself.
“What endeavors are you talking about?” Liv asked.
“Mergers. The merger,” her father amended too quickly. He turned to Jasper and began talking about hospital business. Tiffany, the perfect hostess, interjected every so often. They’d dined here for so many years, Liv suspected her mother thought of the Regency dining room as her own.
As the others chatted, Liv took the opportunity to observe Dr. Jasper Temple more closely. He was charming, well-spoken, and warm. He deferred to her father when they had a small difference of opinion, and he took her mother’s social prattle seriously—or at least, did a masterful job pretending.
Liv marveled. Was it possible that she actually liked a guy her mom approved of? An honest-to-goodness nice guy?
She sipped her coffee and peered at Jasper over the rim. She gave herself a mental shake. Next thing, she’d start believing in unicorns. There had to be something wrong with him.
Jasper turned his attention back to Liv. “I hear you run your own investigation firm. Do I need to worry about you running a background check on me as soon as lunch is over?”
“You never know. I just might.” She smiled sweetly. “Why? Afraid I’ll find some skeletons in your closet?”
“Actually, yes,” he laughed.
“Okay, spill it, Doctor. Bad debts? Substance abuse? No, wait. Let me guess. Speeding tickets?”
“Nothing quite that exciting, no. My skeleton’s name is Horace. He’s an anatomy model I, um, acquired during med school.”
Liv raised her eyebrows. “Acquired?”
“Let’s just say some of us had a little bit too much of a good time one fine summer evening. We, um, liberated Horace from the anatomy lab, and took him out on rounds that night.”
“Didn’t that scare the patients?”
“No, but it gave the barflies something to talk about.”
“Ah,” she laughed. “Those rounds.”
Tiffany giggled. “Oh, Jasper, that is such a funny anecdote. What other pranks did you get up to in med school? Yale, wasn’t it?”
Liv rolled her eyes. Her mother was so transparent.
“Johns Hopkins,” Jasper said.
“Oh, that’s right.” She gave Liv a meaningful look.
“It’s okay, Mother,” Liv said. “You can stop trying so hard. I like him, okay?”
Tiffany’s mouth fell open. Gilbert snorted and covered it up with a cough. Jasper’s eyes sparkled with humor as he watched the family dynamic play out.
Liv crossed her arms and looked around the table. “Come on. Why don’t we just all be honest about what’s going on here? Jasper, my mother invited you to brunch in order to set us up. You know that, right?”
“Olivia Rose Lively!” her mother gasped. “That’s not…”
Liv ignored her and focused her attention on Jasper. “It is. And as it happens, I like you.” She signaled a waiter to bring more coffee. “My mother likes you, and I like you. Hell might be freezing over as we speak.”