"Isn't this awful," the woman said.

"That martini will probably help," Jesse said.

"If I could have enough of them."

"And you can't?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm here because it's sort of good for business to be seen here," she said.

"Neither one of us can get drunk in public."

"You know my business?"

"Sure. You're the chief of police."

"And you?" Jesse said.

"I sell real estate on Stiles Island. I brought a couple of prospective clients, let them circulate, get a feel for their neighbors."

She was wearing a very simple black dress with thin straps, which seemed to whisper engagingly over her body when she moved. Jesse could tell she worked out.

"People from Stiles don't usually come to these things," Jesse said.

"I told them that, but they said they'd like to get a sense of the whole town."

"This may blow the sale," Jesse said.

"Well, they're circulating," the woman said.

"We'll just play it as it lays."

She put out her hand.

"Marcy Campbell."

Jesse took her hand and shook it.

"Jesse Stone," he said.

She leaned her elbow next to him on the bar and looked at the dance floor. She was only a couple of inches shorter than he was.

Her hair smelled the way he was sure violets would have smelled if he had ever actually smelled a violet, which he hadn't.

"You know what violets smell like?" he said.

"No. But I'd recognize champagne in a heartbeat," she said.

Jesse smiled.

"I like your priorities," he said.

"Despite life's busy pace," she said, "it's always nice to stop and smell the booze."

Jesse smiled again and they were quiet watching the dancers moving about the floor. The band was playing "Tie a Yellow Ribbon "Round the Old Oak Tree." Most of the men wore white dinner jackets. Most of the women were in floor-length gowns, some of which were in small floral patterns. Many with puffy shoulders and bows in unexpected places. It looked like an over aged frat party.

"My God, look at those dresses," Marcy said.

"Colorful."

"Look at this with the bow on her ass," Marcy said.

"If you had an ass like that, would you call attention to it by putting a bow on it?"

"I'd rather not think about her ass," Jesse said.

Marcy laughed and took one of the olives from her martini and popped it in her mouth. Jesse took another controlled sip of his scotch.

"Wouldn't you think," Marcy said, "with all that money and all that time on their hands, nobody works, that these women could manage to look better than they do?"

"Well it's not like they all married Tom Selleck," Jesse said.

"I suppose," Marcy said.

"But you know I sometimes seriously think about it. I mean really look at these people. Dancing to dreadful music, wearing dreadful clothes, saying dreadful boring things.

Can they possibly be having any fun?"

"Maybe they think it's fun," Jesse said.

"But..." Marcy shook her head.

"Just imagine the impoverishment of their daily lives," she said.

"If this is their recreation."

"Better than no recreation," Jesse said.

"But that's the sad part. They do this and think it's fun, and so they never have any actual fun. Can you imagine these people in bed?"

"Another thing I'd prefer not to think about," Jesse said.

"Most men, and women, lead lives of quiet desperation," Marcy said.

"That's a quote from someplace," Jesse said.

Marcy laughed.

"Henry David Thoreau," she said.

"I modified it a little."

"How about yourself ?"

"Me? My desperations are never quiet," Marcy said.

"What do you do for fun?"

"Eat," she said, "drink, work out, shop, travel, read, talk to interesting people, have sex."

"Bingo," Jesse said.

"We've found a common interest?" Marcy said.

"Anyone special?" Jesse said.

"That I have sex with?"

"Yes."

Marcy laughed. The laugh was genuine and quite big. He had already noticed that her face flushed slightly when she laughed.

"They're all special," she said.

"No husband?" Jesse said.

"Not anymore."

"Boyfriend?"

"Not currently. How about you?"

"I'm divorced," Jesse said.

"I knew that. Girlfriends?"

"Nope."

"Do you think we've stayed here long enough?" Marcy said.

"Yes."

"Then let's go somewhere and get a real drink."

"What about the clients?"

"They have their own car. I'll just say good-bye."

Jesse watched the way her hips moved under the smooth tight dress as she walked away from him across the dance floor and carrying her martini. She spoke to a good-looking couple near the buffet table. They looked more Palm Beach than Stiles Island, Jesse thought. But maybe they were just summer people. The man kissed Marcy on the cheek, and she turned and came back across the dance floor. In a while, Jesse was pretty sure, he'd see that body without the intervening dress. The pressure of possibility, which had begun almost as soon as she had spoken to him, was now very strong. He didn't mind. He enjoyed the pressure. No hurry. He enjoyed looking forward to it. Marcy put her empty glass down on the bar.