Tara cleared her throat. “I take it none of you heard about that?”
“What scandal?” Bobbie demanded.
“Way to go, Tara,” Blake murmured.
She sent her husband a frown. “I just assumed they’d heard. As busy as the rumor mill is in Honoria, I would have thought they’d have discussed Jamie.”
“There was a lot of talk when she first moved back,” Bobbie said. “Folks started going on about her parents again, and speculating what her life must have been like in New York. Wondering how she would work out as a teacher and placing bets on how long she would stay. But no one said anything about her being involved in a scandal.”
Looking uncomfortable, Tara shifted in her chair. “I guess it was only common knowledge in New York and L.A. I wouldn’t have known about it, myself, had Blake not mentioned it back when it happened a year or so ago. And he only paid attention because I had commented that I grew up with Jamie when he pointed her out on the show.”
Trevor had waited as long as he could. As much as he detested gossip, as much as he despised tabloid journalism, he was unable to resist asking, “What was this scandal about?”
Tara and Blake exchanged glances, Tara looking remorseful, Blake faintly chiding. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured. “I know better than to—”
“Tara,” Trevor cut in firmly. “What, exactly, did you hear?”
She sighed. “Apparently, Jamie got in the middle of that nasty divorce between Celia Kelly and Alex Greer last year.”
Trevor recognized the names, of course. The two screen-and-stage stars were regulars of the tabloids. Even without following celebrity news, Trevor was aware that they’d had a steamy, very public marriage and an even uglier and more public divorce. “What did Jamie have to do with it?”
“Celia claimed that her husband was having a torrid affair with a starlet he’d met while doing a play in New York. He was photographed several times with Jamie, so the gossip columnists named her as one of the suspects. Several concluded that she was one of several girlfriends Alex had on the side. The truth is, of course, that no one really knows what happened, because Alex and Jamie both declined comment.”
“Jamie could probably have parlayed the publicity into a career boost,” Blake pointed out. “But she apparently chose not to.”
“It had to be a difficult time for Jamie,” Bobbie said. “No wonder she was ready to get away from all that and come back to Honoria.”
“No gossip or scandals in Honoria,” Caleb muttered sarcastically.
Trevor couldn’t help remembering the previous evening, when he’d found Jamie having a cozy cup of coffee with Clark Foster—another unfaithful husband in the middle of an unpleasant divorce. The mental connection made him scowl, hating himself for his instinctive distrust, resenting the old, painful memories of Melanie that hovered in the back of his mind.
“I think we’ve discussed this long enough,” Caleb concluded firmly. “It’s nothing more than a bunch of tabloid gossip, and we know better than to pay any attention to that sort of garbage. Tara, you shouldn’t have repeated it, and Trevor, you should pay no mind to it. Jamie seems like a fine young woman and she doesn’t deserve to be discussed behind her back this way.”
Tara flushed. “Sorry, Daddy. You’re absolutely right, of course.”
“My fault, I’m afraid,” Blake loyally defended his wife. “Rumors and gossip are a part of my business and I probably pay too much attention to them—which doesn’t mean I generally believe them, by the way. Just the opposite, in fact.”
Tara looked sheepishly at her brother. “I just really thought you knew…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Trevor was relieved that Emily and Wade returned with the children a few minutes later. Emily carried Abbie, while Wade followed with Claire. Clay and Sam dashed in after them, their faces sporting evidence of chocolate ice cream. After that, the conversation veered onto a new path.
Trevor only wished it was as easy to change the direction of his thoughts.
11
BY TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Jamie still hadn’t heard from Trevor. She managed to keep herself busy, doing some necessary chores around the house, making pages of notes about the play her theater group had decided on, scheduling auditions and making arrangements to use the Honoria Community Center for practices and performances. But she often thought about Trevor and wondered why he hadn’t called.
She considered calling him, but decided against it. Whatever problems Trevor was having with their relationship, he was going to have to work them out for himself. Whether he was dealing with his feelings for her, or for his late wife, there was nothing she could do to make it any easier for him. She’d just have to be patient, give him space and be there to listen when he was ready to talk.
Feeling restless, she decided she needed to get out of the house for a while. Though hot, it was too nice a day to sit inside alone, waiting for a phone call that might not come. Wearing a pair of denim shortalls over a brightly striped T-shirt, she strapped on her favorite leather sandals, ran a hand through her hair and turned on the answering machine—just in case.
She didn’t really have a destination in mind when she headed out, but she ended up at the new ice-cream parlor on Maple Street. Part of the “revitalize downtown” campaign the chamber of commerce had been pushing for the past couple of years, the parlor had been opened in an old stone-front building that had once been home to a pharmacy and soda bar. So far, the new establishment had proven quite popular.
As she entered, Jamie admired the old-fashioned decor—the Tiffany-style lights, the little round tables with bentwood chairs, the old Coca-Cola and Pepsi prints on the walls, the neon-outlined jukebox prominently displayed in a back corner. The old soda bar had been refinished and polished to a high shine, the brass fittings gleaming. It was like stepping back in time to a slower, easier era, and Jamie could almost feel herself relax as she soaked in the atmosphere.
Most of the little tables were occupied, but she spotted an empty one in the back. She’d taken only a few steps toward it when someone said her name. Turning, she smiled when she recognized Joe Cooper, a biology teacher from the high school. “Well, hi,” she said, moving toward his table. “How’s your summer going?”