Chapter 12 Jane
JANE
Jane woke to the sound of rain drumming against her bedroom window.
She lay there for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.
Relief because she was not sure she could have managed their usual morning painting session today, not with everything churning through her mind.
Disappointment because those quiet hours on the boardwalk with Gabe had become something she looked forward to more than she wanted to admit.
She glanced at her phone on the nightstand. Five-fifteen in the morning. Still early, but she knew she would not be going back to sleep. Her mind was too active, spinning with questions that had kept her awake for most of the night. Jane quickly sent Gabe a message:
Our painting session will have to be cancelled. See you in the ballroom later?
It was no surprise that he was already awake and sent a message back.
Looking forward to it.
Jane flopped back against her pillows, her mind going back to the previous day at the hospital.
What had that doctor been trying to get her to sign?
Why had he looked so nervous, so stressed?
And why had Pamela looked so irritated when the nurse had interrupted, claiming Jane had already signed everything?
Jane got out of bed and padded to the window, looking out at the gray morning. The rain was coming down steadily, turning the beach into a blurred watercolor of sand and surf.
She showered and dressed, trying to push the questions out of her mind, but they kept circling back. Something was not right about that hospital visit. Something beyond just Pamela’s obvious manipulation and false concern.
By the time Jane made her way to the dining room for breakfast, she had made a decision. She needed help figuring out what Pamela was up to, and she knew exactly who to ask.
Charlie.
She had connections, resources, and, most importantly, a sharp legal mind that could untangle complex situations. If anyone could help Jane get to the bottom of what had happened at that hospital, it was Charlie.
Jane entered the dining room to find it already occupied.
Her father sat at a table by the window with Holly and Logan, the three of them talking quietly over coffee and plates of Mrs. Hurling’s famous buttermilk pancakes.
Charlie was with them, leaning back in her chair with that thoughtful expression.
“Good morning,” Jane said, approaching their table with what she hoped was a casual smile.
“Morning, sweetheart,” her father said warmly, gesturing to an empty chair. “Join us. Mrs. Hurling just brought out a fresh batch of pancakes.”
“Morning, Jane,” Logan added with a friendly nod.
Holly smiled at her, though Jane noticed it did not quite reach her eyes. There was tension in Holly’s shoulders, a tightness around her mouth that suggested she had not slept well either.
“Actually,” Jane said, looking directly at Charlie, “I was hoping I could steal you for a bit. I need your help with something.”
She saw the flicker of concern cross her father’s face, the way Logan’s attention sharpened. She needed to deflect quickly before they started asking questions she was not ready to answer.
“Charlie has been helping me with the shell decorations we’ve been making,” Jane said, the lie coming easily. “For the ballroom. We’ve been painting them and arranging them into garlands, and I could use her artistic eye on a few pieces.”
It was not entirely untrue. They had been making shell decorations. But that was not why Jane needed Charlie’s help right now.
“Sure,” Charlie said smoothly, catching on immediately. “When do you need me?”
Jane glanced at the half-eaten breakfast on Charlie’s plate, feeling a twinge of guilt. “When you’re finished with breakfast?”
“Well, I’m nearly done,” Charlie said easily. She smiled at Jane. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Great,” Jane said, trying to project enthusiasm she did not feel. “I’m just going to order breakfast from Mrs. Hurling.”
She retreated to a corner table, ordered coffee and toast to go from Mrs. Hurling, and tried not to notice the way her father kept glancing over at her with that worried dad expression.
The one that said he knew something was bothering her but was trying to respect her privacy while simultaneously wanting to fix whatever was wrong.
Jane loved her father desperately, but this was not something he could fix. And if her suspicions about Pamela were correct, telling him would only add to the stress he was already carrying with the threat to the inn.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes, Mrs. Hurling brought her breakfast and Charlie came over to join Jane with an easy smile that did not fool Jane for a second. Charlie knew something was up.
“Ready?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” Jane said, standing quickly. “Let’s go.”
They walked out of the dining room together, Jane very aware of the eyes following them. As soon as they were in the hallway, Charlie spoke quietly.
“The ballroom?”
“Yes,” Jane confirmed. “It’s my privacy spot when no one else is around.”
They walked through the inn in silence. She pulled out her key and unlocked the door.
The ballroom was dim in the gray morning light filtering through the tall windows.
The decorations they had been working on for days were scattered around the room.
Garlands draped over tables, ornaments hanging from chairs, shells arranged in patterns that caught the light.
It looked magical, even unfinished. A testament to hours of work and careful planning.
Jane locked the door behind them, then turned to face Charlie.
“Either you’re planning a coup of the inn and are taking me hostage,” Charlie said with a slight smile, “or this isn’t about seashell decorations, which I knew it wasn’t anyway.”
Jane let out a shaky laugh. “It’s not about decorations.” She put her breakfast and coffee on a table.
“I figured,” Charlie said gently. “What’s going on, Jane?”
And just like that, the words came tumbling out.
Jane told Charlie everything about the hospital visit the previous day.
About how the doctor had seemed nervous from the moment he walked in.
About the forms, he had tried to get her to sign, holding the clipboard against his chest as if protecting it from view.
About how Gabe had asked to see them, and Pamela had immediately objected, her voice rising with something that sounded like panic.
“Then the nurse walked in,” Jane continued, pacing now as the memories played out in her mind. “She said I had already signed everything. And the doctor looked terrified. He looked at Pamela, and there was this moment... this look between them. Like they had been caught.”
Charlie’s expression had grown increasingly serious as Jane talked. Now she pulled out her phone and opened a notes app. “Go on.”
“The doctor backed off immediately,” Jane said.
“Said if I had already signed everything, then they had what they needed. But it didn’t make sense, Charlie.
I had signed consent forms when I first arrived, insurance paperwork, that kind of thing.
But those forms the doctor had? I never saw them.
Never signed them. And the nurse said I had, but I know I didn’t. ”
“And Pamela’s reaction?” Charlie prompted.
“She was furious,” Jane said. “Not openly, but I could see it in her face. In the way she held herself. Whatever her plan had been, having Gabe there ruined it. And then when the nurse interrupted, it fell apart completely.”
Charlie was quiet for a moment, her fingers moving across her phone screen as she typed notes.
“I’m probably being paranoid,” Jane said. “Pamela brings that out in people as she always has a hidden agenda.”
Charlie looked up from her notes at Jane. “Your instincts are probably right. This sounds like Pamela had something planned, and it didn’t go the way she wanted.”
“I just keep thinking,” Jane said, stopping her pacing to face Charlie, “what if those forms weren’t about the tests at all? What if Pamela was trying to get me to sign something else entirely?”
“That’s a very real possibility,” Charlie agreed. “Can you give me the doctor’s name? The nurses’ names if you remember them? Any other details you noticed?”
Jane provided everything she could remember.
The doctor’s name is Dr. Raymond Chen. The hospital was St. Luke’s Medical Center in Jacksonville.
The time of her appointment. She described the nurse who had interrupted, a woman in her forties with dark hair pulled back in a bun and kind eyes that had seemed genuine even if her timing had been suspiciously convenient. “Nurse Davies, I think.”
“Other than the very nervous doctor and the irritated Pamela, was there anything else?” Charlie asked. “Any other behavior that seemed off?”
Jane thought back, trying to recall every detail. “The doctor kept looking at Pamela. Like he was checking with her, waiting for some kind of signal or approval. It was subtle, but once I noticed it, I couldn’t unsee it.”
“That’s very helpful,” Charlie said, making more notes. “What about after? Did Pamela say anything?”
“She tried to convince me to go to lunch with her,” Jane said, making a face.
“A mother-daughter catch-up, she called it. She told me there were things we needed to discuss in private. I told her that anything she wanted to say to me, she could say in front of Gabe. She backed off after that. Said she’d be in touch. ”
Charlie’s expression was thoughtful.
“Oh.” Jane clicked her fingers. “I asked Pamela about her parents.”
“And?” Charlie’s brow furrowed questioningly.
“Pamela told me her mother died when she was very young. That her father married another woman to give her a mother, or a free nanny, as she put it. Then her father left them, and she was raised by her stepmother.”
“And the disease?” Charlie pressed. “Did she say it was her mother or her stepmother who had it?”