Page 31 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Maxwell

Later that evening, as Royce and I stepped onto C.J.

’s deck, the mingled scents of grilled chicken, shrimp, and the ocean breeze drifted across the redwood planks.

A tall red-haired guy manned the grill, chatting with a girl in a bikini top and short shorts.

James and Luke stood nearby with drinks in hand, both turning toward us as we arrived.

“Maxwell,” James said, smiling broadly. “Finally the guest of honor has arrived.” His gaze flicked to Royce. “And Royce, of course. So good to see both of you.”

“Good to see you again too, James,” Royce replied politely, nodding at Luke. “Luke.”

“Hi, Sheriff.” Luke swayed slightly, his eyes glassy as he raised his beer. “Hey, Doc, you ready to party?” His words were just a fraction too loud. “This is so cool, man. All of us Ocean Whisper peeps back together again.”

“It was nice of C.J. to do this,” I said, noting how he seemed to be concentrating hard on standing upright.

“I was just telling Luke how great it is to have you back, Maxwell, even if it’s temporary.” James’s tone was carefully casual, but there was an edge underneath. “How are you doing, Royce? I hope you’re having a good time. Must be a bit of a culture shock situation for you.”

“How so?” Royce asked, his voice neutral.

“Oh, you know,” James waved his hand dismissively, “This is Maxwell’s natural habitat. But you’re used to being in the country. Us city folk must seem pretty intimidating.”

Royce laughed. “I’m not intimidated.”

“But it must be really different here for you, right?” Luke asked, studying Royce. “From what James has said Rainy Dale is tiny compared to Malibu.”

Royce shrugged. “This isn’t my first time visiting a big city. I’ve been to Dallas many times and that’s a huge city.”

Luke frowned. “Yeah, but according to James, Max said Rainy Dale is out in the middle of nowhere and nothing but cows and cactus.”

“I don’t remember saying that.” I scowled.

At least, not recently.

A muscle jerked in Royce’s cheek. “That’s not quite accurate. Believe it or not, we have restaurants, shops, and even indoor plumbing in Rainy Dale, and we have had for decades.”

James studied Royce. “Oh, dear. You seem offended. We meant no disrespect. We were just making conversation. You’re a guest in our city and we wanted to be sure you felt welcome.”

“Much appreciated.” Royce’s smile was strained.

“I know C.J. is waiting for you inside,” James said. “But let’s have a drink later, Max, and get caught up.” He glanced at Royce. “You’re welcome to join us, Royce.”

“Thanks,” Royce said.

I put my hand on his back, irritated by James’s boorish, cliquish behavior. Judging by their bleary eyes and loose tongues, I suspected both James and Luke were already well lubricated. Ignoring James’s suggestion of a drink later, I said, “We should get inside, Royce.”

As if on cue, C.J. called from inside the house, “Max, Royce, get in here.”

I followed Royce through her sliding glass doors, grateful to escape the uncomfortable moment with James and Luke.

C.J.’s beach house glowed with warm, honey-colored light from table lamps and strategically placed candles, creating an inviting atmosphere that was distinctly different from my own sleek, modern place next door.

Where my house was all clean lines and neutral tones, C.J.

’s felt like someone actually lived there—overstuffed cream-colored sofas piled with jewel-toned throw pillows, a rustic wooden coffee table that looked like driftwood.

The overall effect was wealthy bohemian.

“You both look so handsome,” C.J. said breathily as she appeared in front of me in a tight black cocktail dress that showed off her slender, toned figure. She air-kissed my cheeks, then Royce’s.

“Thanks for throwing this,” I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. “You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

“Are you kidding? It’s not every day my favorite neighbor comes home to visit.” She slipped her arms through mine and Royce’s. “Come on. I know you’d rather make a run for it, but there are people I want you to meet.”

C.J. led us toward a group clustered around a long table, which was loaded with an impressive spread of appetizers—artisanal cheeses arranged on a marble board with dried figs and honey, smoked salmon pinwheels on what looked like homemade bread, stuffed dates wrapped in prosciutto, and several colorful dips surrounded by pita chips and crudités cut into perfect matchsticks.

There were also some clearly health-conscious options that screamed yoga instructor: quinoa-stuffed mushrooms, avocado toast points topped with microgreens, next to a vibrant beet hummus.

C.J. announced, “Everyone, this is Dr. Maxwell Thornton and his partner Royce Callum.”

The group gave a warm murmur of greeting.

C.J. steered Royce and me toward an older couple standing near the makeshift bar. “Max, I want you to meet some friends of mine. This is Dr. Robert Feldman and his wife, Susan.”

Dr. Feldman was a distinguished man in his seventies with silver hair swept back from his forehead and intelligent gray eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

Despite his age, he stood straight and had an alert gaze.

His wife Susan was petite and elegant, her auburn hair, no doubt from a bottle, pulled into a soft chignon.

She wore a flowing coral blouse that complemented her still-vibrant complexion.

“Robert just retired from vascular surgery at Cedars-Sinai,” C.J. explained with obvious pride in her friend. “I thought you two might have a lot in common, Maxwell.”

Dr. Feldman’s face lit up with interest as he extended his hand. “Maxwell Thornton, we meet at last. C.J. has told me all about you. Weren’t you at Saint Joseph’s? I’m sure I’ve heard your name mentioned before in surgical circles.”

“I was,” I replied, shaking his firm grip. “Though I’ve since traded the scalpel for general practice in Texas.”

“Texas?” Susan’s eyebrows rose with curiosity. “How wonderfully adventurous. What brought about such a dramatic change?”

I wasn’t about to share that I’d made the change because I’d lost confidence in myself. That was more personal than I wanted to be with someone I’d just met. “I wanted a quieter life,” I said instead.

Dr. Feldman grunted. “And quiet it must be by comparison. Although, you know, I admire anyone who can step away from vascular. Vascular surgery involves big teams, intricate coordination, and high stakes, whereas general practice is more solitary and personal. I imagine the transition to general practice must feel rather like switching from conducting a symphony to playing solo piano.”

I nodded. “It’s very different being a GP. I deal with people on a much more personal level. If I’m honest, it was a difficult adjustment for me.”

“Was it?” Susan studied me.

Grimacing, I admitted, “I’m not really a people person.”

Smiling, Susan touched my arm. “Neither is Robert, but he’s perfectly personable to anyone who’ll take him golfing. Offer him a Saturday morning tee time and he’ll be your new bubbly best friend.”

We all laughed, which was a relief. I didn’t want to talk about my reasons for changing my specialty, and happily, both Susan and Robert seemed fine with changing the subject to things like living in Texas and their favorite vacation spots.

By the time C.J. dragged us off to meet more people, I could see why she liked them.

As C.J. introduced us to a few more doctors, bankers, and corporate-type clients of hers, I was happy to see Royce had no issues conversing with them.

He seemed perfectly at ease, and comfortable in his own skin.

His confidence was one of the things that had first attracted me to Royce.

He knew who he was and he didn’t feel the need to change just so he’d fit in with new people.

“And finally, these are my team from Salt & Sun Yoga,” C.J. said cheerfully, as we approached a group of four.

“You saved the best for last,” said a blonde woman with the kind of tan that suggested serious dedication to outdoor meditation. “I’m Sage,” she said, extending a hand with multiple silver rings.

“Nice to meet you,” both Royce and I said.

“I hear you’re a sheriff in Texas?” she asked, giving Royce an admiring once-over.

Royce nodded. “That I am.”

“It must be so exciting. That’s a very challenging job. So many dangerous people out there,” a skinny brunette said, dipping a chip into a bowl of guacamole.

Royce shrugged. “I watch my back best I can.”

Sage’s friendly demeanor shifted slightly as she turned her attention to me. “C.J. says you’re a doctor, Maxwell? Are you the kind of doctor who dismisses the body’s natural healing abilities?”

I blinked at her challenging tone. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.” I certainly hadn’t expected to have my perspective on medicine questioned at this party.

“Now come on, Sage,” C.J. laughed nervously. “Don’t give Maxwell a hard time. There’s room in the world for all types of medicine.”

Sage frowned. “I’m simply pointing out that Western medicine has taken its sweet time catching up to what we’ve known for centuries. The body can and will heal itself without all those harmful drugs traditional doctors love to hand out like candy.”

“We don’t hand out drugs like candy,” I said. “And medicine has always been about healing—”

“But not holistically,” interrupted a plump redhead with crystals dangling from her ears.

“I’m Moonbeam, by the way. Nice to meet you both.

” She cleared her throat. “I teach our crystal healing workshops at the studio. Have you ever considered how gemstones can realign your chakras? I bet, as a surgeon, you carry a lot of negative energy.”

“Ex-surgeon, actually. I’m a GP now.”

“Still,” she said shrilly. “I’ll bet you deny the healing power of crystals. I believe if you have a powerful enough crystal, you could heal all the sickness in the world.”

I frowned. “With just a crystal?”