style="font-size:15px;"> “I seem to remember reading that that book was very popular.”
Jennifer nodded. “It sold well.” That’s why we decided we could start thinking about starting a family. She couldn’t prevent the look of pain that fleetingly crossed her face.
The salads arrived before Scott could question that look.
They ate in comfortable silence.
“Tell me a little about your family, Jennifer. Do they live around here?”
Jennifer set down her crystal water glass. “My parents died a few years ago in a car crash. I have one brother, older than me. Peter is married, has three children. Alexander is nine, Tom is eleven, and Tiffany is twelve.”
“You and Jerry never had children?” It was the wrong question to ask; Scott knew it as soon as he asked the question, but it was too late to take back the words.
“Jerry, can we get a Jenny Lynn crib?”
Her husband’s arms around her waist gave her a gentle hug. “Sure. Next month as a seven month present?”
“You’ll have the baby room painted by then?”
Jerry smiled. “Right down to the teddy bears around the door,” he assured her.
Jennifer gave her husband a hug. “Wonderful. I’ve been thinking about names some more. What do you think about Colleen for a girl?”
“Colleen St. James. I like it. Have a middle name yet?”
“Not yet.”
The raw pain Jennifer felt at the memory tore at her heart. Jerry had not lived long enough to see his daughter born. “No,” she finally whispered. “No, we never had children.”
Scott could see the pain in her eyes. “Jen, I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
She shook her head and forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’m not normally so touchy. What about you? Is your family in the area?”
“My parents live in Burmingham, about forty minutes away. I have one younger sister, Heather. She’s married and has two children, is expecting her third.”
They talked about family for a while, Jennifer laughing at the stories he told of his and Heather’s childhood.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Please,” Jennifer agreed.
“How is the book coming?”
“Not too bad. I’ve actually been working on it for some time. Another week of writing will finish the first draft.”
“You are still planning to end the series?”
“Yes. It’s best. The books are not the same without Jerry.”
Scott looked at his watch and reluctantly said it was time to leave for the theater. Jennifer would have been content to stay and talk for the evening, miss the play.
Scott escorted her from the restaurant, across the parking lot. When he held the car door for her, she was expecting it. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, slipping inside.
They were quiet during the few-minutes’ ride to the theater. “Have you ever been here, Jennifer?”
She shook her head.
“The theater has seats that circle the entire stage. The stage is an octagon, different parts of which can be raised and lowered during the play. An orchestra will provide the music.”
Jennifer smiled. “I’m going to love this, Scott.”
Scott held the door for her. They stepped into a massive lobby. Scott, a hand at the small of Jennifer’s back, led her into the crowd, angling them to the left. An usher accepted the tickets from Scott, handing back the seat assignment portion along with two programs. “You are in the fourth row in the blue section.”
“Thank you.”
The seats fanned out from the stage. Jennifer did not see what markers Scott was using until she realized the floor lights along each section were different colors. They were elegant theater seats of royal blue crushed velvet. Scott helped her slip off her jacket and laid it across the back of her chair. The program Jennifer opened was ten full pages of information about the play, the actors, the director, costumes and scenery.
The lights dimmed and the music swelled.
It was a fast-moving play. She hadn’t realized it was based on political intrigue.
The intermission, an hour into the play, caught Jennifer by surprise. Scott had been enjoying the play, but he had also been enjoying watching Jennifer, leaning forward in her seat, being totally captivated by the presentation. “Like it so far?”
She leaned back in her seat with a big smile. “Oh, yes.” She gave a soft laugh. “I’m exhausted. Too much intrigue.”
He chuckled. “You must get tense writing your books.”
“After writing a description of a crime scene, it may take me several hours to unwind.”
“Jerry, this was a wonderful idea.”
The hotel had a gorgeous indoor pool, softly lit and surrounded by tropical plants. They were the only guests taking advantage of it. The warm water was easing knots in her back that Jennifer had been afraid would be there permanently. Jerry gently moved his hand up to rub the back of Jennifer’s neck where tense muscles were causing her a splitting headache. “I wish you would start taking more breaks, Jennifer. Get up and walk around the house if nothing else. These twelve-hour marathons of yours are deadly.”
“Hmm.” She leaned forward to give him better access to her shoulders.
“How did you manage to get us reservations on less than an hour’s notice?”
“I made reservations three weeks ago.”
Jennifer opened one eye. “You did?”
He smiled. “I’m not the one who forgets our anniversary.”
She groaned. “Guilty. I will make up for the meat loaf dinner. I just got tied up with the story.”
Jerry smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I like your meat loaf.” He gently kissed her. His arms folded across her waist, supporting her.
“We’re almost done with this book,” Jennifer said drowsily.
“Another week,” Jerry agreed. He gently rubbed his hand across her midriff. “How’s our baby coming?”
“She likes ice cream and chocolate and hates meat loaf,” Jennifer replied. “And she hates getting up in the morning.”
Jerry chuckled. “Nausea still bad?”
“No.” Jennifer
