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Authors: Karen Rose Smith

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BOOK: The Good Doctor
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That way Violet wouldn't think about Peter Clark. That way she could ignore all the sensations she'd always wanted to feel but had never felt before.

She didn't need a man in her life. She did
not.

Two

V
iolet drove up to the main house on the Double Crown Ranch the following morning, parking in front of a garden where sage plants and ornamental grasses grew. She was worried. By nature, she hated lying, even by omission. Yet she owed Ryan confidentiality and couldn't tell Lily where the two of them had been last night. She wished Ryan would tell his wife about his symptoms and that Peter was going to have an MRI arranged.

Peter.

Shaking her head, as if that could rid her thoughts of the neurosurgeon, Violet walked through the arched entryway and opened the wrought-iron gate. A curved stone walkway led through the outer courtyard where native plants and rocks were arranged in a miniature arroyo. Flowering vines perfumed the area as she mounted the steps that led to a wide wooden door in the covered entryway.

At her knock, Rosita Perez opened the door. Pleasantly
plump, dressed in a peasant blouse and a long gauzy skirt, she patted her bun as if to make certain it was still there, then smiled.

“You're right on time. Lanie Meyers isn't here yet. Traffic from Austin could be keeping her. But Mr. Ryan and Lily are waiting in the inner courtyard. Come on and I'll get you a cup of coffee.”

This brunch had been planned since last week. Next month the governor would be honoring Ryan with his presence at Steven's new ranch. The gala was already being organized. The governor's daughter, Lanie, acting as an emissary for her father, would be coming to brunch to tell Ryan and Lily how glad she was that Ryan was being honored with the Hensley-Robinson Award. It was a preliminary meeting to fill in the Fortunes on some of the arrangements, and Lily had invited Violet to join them.

The foyer of Ryan's ranch house opened up into a great room with a high, beamed ceiling.

As Rosita showed her through the room, Violet asked, “How's Savannah?” Savannah was married to Cruz Perez, Rosita's son. The couple had a five-year-old and were expecting another child soon.

Rosita smiled. “She's doing well now after that premature labor scare. She just has to take it easy, and Cruz is making sure she does that. I help out with Luke whenever I can.”

“Tell her I hope to see her soon and that I wish her and Cruz well.”

Giving Violet's hand a little squeeze, Rosita nodded, then opened one of the wood-framed glass doors that led into the inner courtyard. Violet loved the area where a fountain bubbled and an old-fashioned swing stood under a vine-covered arbor. Descending the few steps, she headed toward one of the glass-topped tables.

Right away she could feel the tension. Whatever Ryan and Lily had been discussing had put a frown on Lily's face. Had he told his wife he was at Peter Clark's last night?

However, Violet soon knew that wasn't the case because Ryan gave her a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Spotting Violet, Lily quickly replaced her frown with a smile. At fifty-nine, she was still beautiful. Her Apache and Spanish heritage had given her high cheekbones and large dark eyes framed by thick lashes. She had a wonderful figure and wore her hair in a shiny bob a little longer than Violet's own hair. She was wearing white slacks today with a colorful striped sweater.

“I'm so glad you could join us this morning.” She gave Violet a hug, which Violet affectionately returned. Always comfortable with Lily, she could usually talk to her easily. That was why it would be so hard to hide anything from her.

Ryan gave Violet a hug, too, as Lily asked, “So how did you like that horse Ryan took you to see last night? He tells me it's a Morgan, brown with a white blaze.”

Violet's thoughts seemed jumbled as she tried to come up with an appropriate response. Fortunately, just then, the chime of the doorbell could be heard in the courtyard.

As Rosita hurried away, Lily poured a cup of coffee for Violet from a silver serving set. “That should be the governor's daughter.” Forgetting the horse her husband had mentioned, Lily motioned to the coffee. “You take it black with sugar, right?”

“Sure do. Coffee in the lounge at the hospital is usually strong and stale. The sugar helps. I've gotten used to it that way.”

Lily motioned Violet to a seat and placed the cup of coffee there. “We are definitely creatures of habit, maybe too much so.” Her gaze shot to Ryan.

His mouth tightened and some unspoken message seemed to pass between them.

Hearing footsteps, Violet turned and saw Lanie Myers coming down the steps. She was a beauty and, from what Lily had told her, often in the society pages with her blond hair, blue eyes and voluptuous figure. She had a reputation for being a bit wild, at least that was what the gossip columnists said.

After greetings all around, Lanie joined them at the table.

Ryan asked good naturedly, “How's your father's reelection campaign going?”

“It's going,” she observed in a wry tone that made everyone laugh. “Well, it is,” she added with a little shrug. “I don't know how he does it, shaking all those hands, trying to please so many people. I just got back from a shopping trip in L.A., so I escaped the fray for a while.”

When Violet gave the former debutante an appraisal, she noted Lanie's cream halter dress shouted designer label all the way. “Do you ever fly to New York to shop?”

Lanie took a few sips of the orange juice Rosita had placed before her. “I love New York—not only the shopping, but the shows. I try to get there a few times a year. Lily told me you live there. It must be wonderful to have access to the theater district, the symphony and ballet all the time.”

“It is, and I should take advantage of it more. But I don't.”

“Violet's a neurologist,” Lily interjected. “When she's not tied up with patients, she's writing articles. She also sits on the board for a battered women's shelter.”

“You have a terrifically serious life,” Lanie mused. “No wonder you don't have much time for the theater.”

“Violet's mother, Lacey, has been fighting for worthwhile causes since she was a young woman,” Lily explained. “That couldn't help but rub off on Violet.”

Lily was right about that, Violet thought. Her mother was still fighting for causes she believed in. When she was grow
ing up, Violet had mistakenly believed that her mom's causes were more important than her family. But she'd been wrong about that. It had taken a crisis to prove to her that both of her parents as well as her brothers valued her more than anything else in their lives. Her experience at fifteen might have made her reticent to become involved in intimate relationships, but it had also made her realize she truly wasn't alone.

Deflecting conversation from
her
life, Violet said, “We're so excited Ryan's getting the Hensley-Robinson Award. My brother can't wait to host the party.”

“He recently married, didn't he? My mother mentioned that.”

“Yes, a few days ago.”

Although Ryan had been fairly quiet up until this point, now he added, “Violet has another brother who got married the same day. When will Jessica and Clyde be back from their honeymoon?”

“Next week some time. The woman my brother Clyde married was a friend of mine. I can't wait until she gets back so we can really visit.”

“After the experience she had, she and Clyde deserve a long honeymoon.” Lily went on to explain to Lanie how Jessica had been stalked and how Clyde had apprehended the man.

As Rosita served brunch, the conversation flowed easily. Lanie filled them in on details of the gala her father would be attending and the security measures that would be taken.

They'd finished the fruit tart and were enjoying more coffee when Rosita appeared in the courtyard again and stood beside Ryan. “Chuck called from the barn. He said that horse you're going to gentle just rolled in.”

Ryan looked torn as if he wanted to go down to the barn, yet knew he should stay because of Lanie.

Obviously sensing his predicament, she smiled. “Mr. For
tune, if you need to leave, that's fine. I have to be going myself. I have an appointment back in Austin this afternoon.”

As she rose, so did Ryan. “Are you sure you have to leave so soon? My foreman can unload the horse.”

“Really, I must be going,” Lanie said. “It was nice to meet you, Violet.”

After goodbyes all around, Ryan said, “I'll walk you out.” Then he gave Lily a quick kiss and escorted the governor's daughter through the great room. After Rosita cleared the table except for the coffee, she took the tray of dishes to the kitchen.

Lily gave Violet a weak smile that told Violet brunch had been an effort. “That young woman doesn't seem to have a path to her life,” Lily commented.

“Maybe some women don't need one.”

“I found my path when I married Ryan.” That troubled look came over Lily's face again. “But I wouldn't change one curve or twist in the path. Sometimes I wonder if Ryan would, though.”

“I don't understand.”

“I'm worried about him. He had a call from the police again this morning. They want him to come in for more questions. I wish they'd understand he didn't even
know
Christopher Jamison. Why can't they see he'd never hurt anyone?”

That was the question of a loyal wife, but Violet knew the authorities had their own agenda. The link between the Fortunes and Jamisons hadn't been made public, but there was one. She just hoped that the authorities would soon find the murderer of Christopher Jamison and that Ryan would be cleared.

“The two of you usually draw together when there's a crisis,” Violet reminded Lily.

“Up until now. But Ryan's so unpredictable sometimes. For the past few months he leaves and doesn't tell me where he's going. I'm beginning to wonder—”

Her voice caught and Violet could see tears well up in Lily's eyes. One thing she was sure of—Ryan Fortune adored his wife and would never be unfaithful to her.

“Maybe he doesn't tell you because he doesn't know where he's going to go. Maybe he just needs time alone to decompress. Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yes, but he just gives me flimsy excuses.”

“Maybe they seem flimsy because he's not hiding anything.”

“I hope that's true,” Lily said fervently.

Since Ryan was hiding his symptoms from his wife, that was why Lily suspected he wasn't being truthful. Maybe soon that would change. After the MRI, she hoped Ryan would tell Lily about his headaches and they could get their marriage back on a strong footing again. They might need to for whatever came next.

 

When Jason Jamison opened the door to his “mansion,” he considered why he'd bought it when he moved to San Antonio. It was befitting the station in life he intended to rise to. The second reason, just as important, was that Melissa had liked it. She might have been a cocktail waitress, but she had damn good taste.

Noticing the security alarm was off, he realized she must be at home. It was early for him to get home, not even six-thirty. He made a point of working late at Fortune TX, Ltd. so he looked like a go-getter, so he caught Ryan Fortune's attention, so he could put everything into the plan that was coming to fruition.

When he heard the upstairs shower running, he dropped his briefcase in the marble-floored foyer and hurried up the wide sweeping staircase. His footsteps were muffled by the plush carpeting, and he liked the idea of surprising Melissa.
He
didn't like surprises but he liked taking others off guard. He especially looked forward to surprising Ryan Fortune.

He was working on a plan to bring down Ryan and get the revenge his grandfather had always wanted. His grandpa Farley was the only one who had understood him and paid attention to him. During his visits to Farley Jamison's cabin, Jason had been a rapt listener when his grandfather related tales of Iowan politics. Farley's own children and wife had abandoned him. Although they were connected by blood, Kingston Fortune hadn't wanted anything to do with him, either. Someone had to carry on his grandfather's legacy. Farley had always believed it was because of the Fortunes that he was living his life in a beat-up shack, and he'd convinced Jason to believe it, too.

But Jason had to figure the best way to get what he wanted. With a new face, he was unrecognizable to relatives. Creating a different identity and going under the name of Jason Wilkes, he could accomplish anything.

As he walked down the hall, he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. One of his teachers in high school had called him a sociopath. If stabbing a friend and lying to get what he wanted made him that, he didn't mind the label. His conscience didn't bother him one whit that he'd killed Christopher. They'd always been like Cain and Abel, the angel and the devil. So much for angels, he thought, as he remembered dumping his brother's body into Lake Mondo.

After he stepped into the luxuriously furnished bedroom, Jason tossed his tie and suitcoat over a fuchsia chair, hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and threw that to the pile, too. He couldn't wait to get his hands on Melissa. He couldn't wait to feel her hands on him. She knew how to do things—

Flipping off his Italian loafers, ridding himself of his socks, he unbuckled his belt as he went through the dressing room into the bathroom. There was a sunken tub, but his gaze went
straight to the shower where he could see the shadow of Melissa's body behind the frosted glass door.

Before he could open it, she turned off the water and stepped out.

“Jason!” she yelped.

“That's me,” he said with a smile that was supposed to convey his intentions.

It must have done just that because she shook her head, her bleached blond hair falling in wet tendrils across her shoulders. She hadn't dried off and she looked sleek and more than ready for what he had in mind.

However, she nipped his desire before he could act on it. “I can't. Not now. I'm already running late. I have a meeting at seven-thirty.”

BOOK: The Good Doctor
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