The Police Chief's Lady

“So would Jenni—I mean, Dr. Vine,” said the third committee member, Karen Lowell, director of the Tulip Tree Nursing Home. “She’s energetic and enthusiastic. Everybody took to her.”

“She certainly has an outgoing personality,” he responded. On her visit, the California blonde had dazzled people with her expensive clothes and her good humor after being drenched in a thunderstorm, which she seemed to regard as a freak of nature. It probably didn’t rain on her parade very often out in the land of perpetual sunshine, Ethan supposed. “But once the novelty wears off, she’ll head for greener pastures and we’ll need another doctor.”

“So you aren’t convinced she’ll stay. None of us is in the mind-reading business,” Olivia opined. “Is that the extent of your objections? This isn’t typical of you, Chief. I’ll bet you’ve got something else up that tailored sleeve of yours.”

Ethan was about to pass off her comment as a joke, when he noticed some of the townsfolk leaning forward in their seats with anticipation. Despite being a quiet town best known for dairy farmers and a factory that made imitation antiques, Downhome had an appetite for gossip.

Although Ethan had hoped to avoid going into detail, the audience awaited his explanation. Was he being unfair to the applicant? he asked himself. True, he’d taken a mild dislike to Dr. Vine’s surfer-girl demeanor, but he could get over that. What troubled him was the reason she wanted to leave L.A. in the first place.

“You all know I conducted background checks on the candidates,” he began. “Credit records, convictions, that sort of thing.”

“And found no criminal activities, right?” Karen tucked a curly strand of reddish brown hair behind one ear.

“That’s correct. I also double-checked with the medical directors at their hospitals.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Olivia murmured.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to bring it up.”

“I wasn’t criticizing,” the principal said. “I admire your thoroughness.”

Around the room, heads bobbed. Ethan felt glad the townspeople respected his approach. Four years ago, when he left the Nashville Metropolitan Police Department and returned home after his wife’s death, he had believed his professionalism was the reason they’d chosen him as chief over several other candidates.

Well, he had a bombshell to drop, so he’d better get it over with. “A few months ago, Dr. Vine became enmeshed in a controversy.” He tried to ignore the impatient way Karen twirled a pencil between her fingers. “Dr. Vine was counseling one of her patients about marital problems. She met with the woman and her husband outside of work.”

“What’s wrong with that?” demanded the nursing home director.

“Nothing, on the face of it,” Ethan replied. “However, a short time later, the patient filed a complaint. She told the medical director that her husband had confessed to becoming involved in an affair with Dr. Vine.”

Karen’s pencil went flying. In the audience, a couple of exclamations broke the stillness and some faces registered disapproval.

Olivia raised one eyebrow. “From this you conclude that she’s a husband-stealing tart who would sully the moral fiber of our community?”

“If we hire her, we’re placing her in a position of trust,” Ethan responded. “If she’s the type of person to exploit a situation, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Jenni has a right to defend herself,” Karen said. “Did you speak to her about this?”

“Not directly, but I did look further.” Ethan checked his notes. “In response to the hospital board’s inquiry, Dr. Vine denied the allegation. She claimed the husband had been antagonistic and lied to get her out of the picture.” It struck him as a weak excuse, but he was here to present the facts.

“What action did the board take?” Olivia asked.

He folded the notes into his pocket. “They concluded there wasn’t enough evidence to take action. However, word got out, and the medical director says Dr. Vine’s presence on the staff has become awkward. Even assuming she’s innocent, that reinforces my concern as to whether she intends to stay here or is simply grasping at the first chance to escape an unpleasant situation.”

Council member Mae Anne McRay, a retired principal whose wheelchair barely permitted her to see above the council’s raised counter, piped up. “We advertised that we were offering doctors a second chance, didn’t we?”

“A second chance to live in a friendly, affordable town and escape from practicing corporate medicine,” said the mayor, Olivia’s husband, Archie Rockwell, who owned the feed store. “Not a second chance to seduce someone’s husband.”

“How about a second chance to prove she cares about patients and isn’t afraid to stick her neck out?” Mae Anne retorted.

“A recovering alcoholic needs a second chance, too,” Ethan observed. “And he’s been clean for a couple of years.”

Archie frowned. “I’m with Ethan on this one. Seducing a patient’s husband—that’s a serious allegation.”

“Maybe she was conducting sex therapy,” cracked Gwen Martin. The peppery café owner lived by the dictum that nobody over fifty should hesitate to speak her mind. “For Pete’s sake, the hospital board cleared her.”

“We didn’t advertise for no sex therapist,” grumbled 79-year-old Beau Johnson, who maintained a colloquial way of speaking despite his stature as grocery store owner and a descendant of the town’s founder.

“It’s not a matter of yea or nay on Dr. Vine. We have an excellent choice in Dr. Gregory,” observed Mayor Rockwell, keeping a wary eye on his wife. Olivia ruled her family as firmly as she ruled the town’s elementary and high school in her consolidated role as the town’s principal.

“We have to be careful. A controversy like this could tear our town apart!” cried the council’s fifth member, Rosie O’Bannon, owner of the Snip ’N’ Curl salon. Since she was given to making dire pronouncements that hardly ever came true, no one bothered to answer.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” the mayor said. “I know some folks in the audience have to get up early in the morning to tend to their farms, so do I hear a motion?”

“I move we hire Dr. Jenni Vine,” Gwen said.

“Second,” said Mae Anne.

“Discussion?” the mayor asked, following the formalities.

“We already had one,” Beau snipped.

The vote split three-to-two, women against men. That surprised Ethan, who’d expected Downhome’s ladies to reject a potential predator in their midst.

In any case, the decision had been made. Dr. Vine would be offered the position.

As the meeting broke up, he tried not to show his disappointment. Although the physician might have been falsely accused, Ethan had always had a knack for sizing people up, and his instincts told him that their new doctor was materialistic, spoiled and accustomed to charming her way out of difficulties.

“Well, Ethan?” Olivia asked as she collected her purse. “Think you can get used to a liberated lady in a white coat?”

“I’d hoped whoever we hired would work on the outreach program, but she didn’t show much interest when I mentioned it.” He shrugged. “As for my son…Nick’s medical team is in Nashville. We only contact the local doctor if there’s an emergency.”

“That’s your answer? That you’re going to avoid her?” the principal challenged.

“Quite the opposite. I keep my eye on everything that happens in Downhome. But I expect she’ll soon get tired of playing Marcus Welby and find a job closer to a shopping mall.”

Nearby, Karen straightened after retrieving her pencil. She bestowed a brief glare on Ethan before heading off.

He wished he hadn’t made such a tactless remark in Karen’s hearing. She apparently identified with Dr. Vine, perhaps because both were single women in their early thirties…or because her family was no stranger to questionable accusations.

Well, the time had come to switch from cop to daddy and collect Nick from his grandma’s house. At this hour, Ethan could expect only a sleepy hug as he tucked Nick into bed, but maybe he’d get lucky and hear a five-year-old’s recap of the day’s events.

He decided not to worry about Karen’s reaction. By the time Dr. Vine arrived, his comments would be old news.

THE WHIRR OF THE SEWING MACHINE masked the ring of Jenni’s cell phone. Attuned to being on call, however, she stopped in mid-seam and made a dive for her purse, which she’d dropped on the sofa bed after work.

She extracted the instrument and said breathlessly, “Dr. Vine.”

“Jenni? It’s Karen.” The Tulip Tree director’s excitement pulsed across the two-thousand-mile distance. “They voted! You’ll be getting a call from the mayor tomorrow.”