Diplomatic Quarters

By Ellen Boneparth

Early loss has a way of remaining in our lives; for the lucky, closure finally happens. In this novel, the heroine comes to terms with her loss of twenty years earlier only when circumstance puts her in the same retirement community as the man she suspects of killing her past love. How she deals with the villain's criminal past of money-laundering and murder, with the help of a new partner and close friends, is a story of pain, persistence, and ingenuity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665523622

Ellen Boneparth

In her many novels, Ellen Boneparth usually features a woman who discovers a social problem and becomes embroiled in ways to confront it. Boneparth draws on her experiences working in government, academia and diplomacy. She also frequently draws on her domestic and overseas travels to provide foreign locations and unusual environments. In NOA's ARC, the heroine's journey to confront drug addiction takes her from New York to Washington, D.C., to the Cherokee reservation in Oklahoma, and to drug programs in the Northwest and Canada.

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Copyright © 2021 Ellen Boneparth. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/18/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2363-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2362-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Part II

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part III

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Part IV

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

For Mic

hael

A Wonderful Partner and A Talented Editor

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Chapter 1

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Sunny and warm, a gorgeous late September day in Washington. Eve Abrams couldn’t imagine why her friend, Laura Jefferson, had chosen to lunch indoors. Even more curiously, near the State Department.

Neither of them had had rewarding experiences at State. As a Foreign Service Officer, Eve had a hard time promoting U.S. policy goals she disagreed with. Laura, an African-American, had objected to subtle practices of discrimination that kept her from choice assignments and promotion. And then, for Eve, there was her personal loss – the death of a male colleague she cared about deeply in a hit-and-run accident. So, with all that history behind them, why had Laura insisted on meeting near State?

The two women, both in their mid-fifties, had moved on from their diplomatic careers. Eve left State after seven years to return to college teaching. Laura stuck it out longer, seeking a couple more overseas posts to be with her husband Tyler, who worked in the Agency. She welcomed retirement.

Arriving at the Thai restaurant on Virginia Avenue, Eve inhaled deeply, savoring the garlic and curry spices in the air. She found Laura seated in a booth at a round table, surrounded by piles of papers and manila envelopes.

Wow! Eve leaned over and kissed Laura on the cheek. You look good, long, smooth locks instead of braids. The Michelle Obama look?

I wish. No, I just decided braids were wrong for a woman my age. She rotated around to show off the back of her head. You like?

Love it. Hard work? Eve asked as she took her seat.

Had to get the hang of the roller brush, but now it’s easy. Although not as easy as yours. I’ve never seen your hair so short.

Eve shook her brown waves streaked with gold. I’ve been swimming most days. With this cut, I hop out of the pool, blow dry, and take off in minutes.

A slim young waitress in a Hmong blouse in bright reds and blues came to the table with menus. Laura immediately ordered a half-carafe of white wine. We’re celebrating. I’ll explain once we order.

They settled on a spicy shrimp curry, brown rice, and a green papaya salad.

Arms crossed, Eve challenged Laura. Out with it. What are we celebrating?

We’re moving – me and Tyler, and you, I hope – to a retirement community called Diplomatic Quarters. She grabbed a pack of papers and a manila envelope and passed them to Eve. I just came from State where I picked these up.

Aren’t you a bit young for a retirement community?

It’s really a senior living community, designed for active seniors, folks who have retired but want to live enriched lives, physically and culturally.

Eve shook her head. I don’t get it. After your years at State, you want a State Department community? You must be in denial.

Listen, discrimination and prejudice are everywhere. I learned to get past all that.

I doubt it’s that easy.

Honey, there is a positive side. Take a look at Diplomatic Quarters. It’s got everything Tyler and I want. And it’s in Charlottesville, near my family. Just look at the brochure – lovely townhouses, a fabulous sports center, an amazing cultural program.

Eve frowned. Charlottesville is no cultural mecca.

You’re wrong. There are lots of things happening at the University of Virginia and in Charlottesville. Richmond’s only an hour away.

Richmond has a beautiful museum, but it ain’t D.C.

You can make excursions to D.C. whenever you want. It’s only a couple of hours away.

Their food arrived and Laura put the remaining materials on the seat next to her. Let’s talk about this after we eat. Tell me what’s new in your life.

Eve plunged into a description of the creative writing courses she was teaching at NOVA, Northern Virginia Community College. She suffered through teaching composition for the reward of teaching memoir. Once my memoir students move past the idea of writing autobiography and begin to muse about their lives, they come up with amazing stuff. Of course, most of them are mid-life and have rich lives to reflect on.

Better than the GW students you had before came to State?

So much better. Eve’s first job, at George Washington University, had lasted ten years. She’d expected to spend her life at GW but found herself dragged down by unfulfilling teaching. Most of the GW students were spoiled brats with little on their minds except the next party.

Well, I’m glad you’re happy work-wise. How about your romantic life?

"Nada. Most middle-aged men want women in their twenties or thirties. I see a few guys occasionally, but nothing romantic. She breathed out deeply. You’re lucky to be with Tyler."

Laura returned to her mission. He’s as excited about Diplomatic Quarters as I am.

The waitress came for their dishes and re-filled their wine glasses.

What does Tyler see in Charlottesville.?

First of all, UVA has strong ties to the Quarters. It offers a lecture course on international relations made up of DQ residents as speakers and a mentorship program for students to work with diplomats.

Eve raised her eyebrow. Tyler was not exactly a diplomat…except under cover.

Oh, they’re completely open to CIA participants, and they’re yearning to have blacks in the program in order to recruit more black students to foreign affairs. She paused and smiled. There’s one other critical factor.

Lay it on me.

Laura grinned. He can play tennis outdoors almost all year.

Well, I’m glad you two are enthused, but it’s not for me.

Evie, please, before you make up your mind, come see the place. We’re driving down in a couple of weeks and we want you to come with us. Read through the material then let me know if you’ll come take a look.

She shrugged. Don’t get your hopes up.

Hon, be sure to look at the price sheet. DQ has relatively low fees, kind of a subsidy.

Surely not from State?

No. From a filthy rich Foreign Service Officer, Robert McAfee, who inherited millions from his high-tech father. This guy loved State. He figured diplomats would want to hang around with each other in retirement.

Ha! Doubtful.

Don’t be so negative. The cost is twenty percent lower than any of the retirement communities around D.C.

’Cause no one wants to go to Charlottesville.

You’re so wrong. They have a waiting list. Laura whipped out a credit card. My treat.

Eve grabbed Laura’s arm. Is this a bribe?

You bet.

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That evening, Eve curled up on her cushy sofa, woven in shades of mauve and burgundy, put on some light jazz, and began sorting through the materials Laura had given her. Diplomatic Quarters had been established on the grounds of a former horse ranch. The main ranch house, now the facility’s headquarters, contained a large living room with fireplaces at each end, a dining room, two conference rooms for classes and committee meetings, a movie theater/lecture hall, and administrative offices. She liked the contemporary décor in striking primary colors, far from the rustic look she’d have expected in the countryside.

A panoramic photo displayed clusters of townhouses on one side of the main building, two-story units with large patios. The other side was devoted to sports and recreation – a golf course and clubhouse, an impressive spread of tennis courts, a track for runners, and a watersports center with a lap pool, exercise pool, and huge jacuzzi. Eve could easily picture herself swimming in all weathers in a glass-covered pool then luxuriating in the jacuzzi.

Lest anyone think the Quarters was mainly for jocks, the information packet included a brochure on cultural life. Eve flipped through the catalog of events – theater, concerts, museum trips, field trips to nature spots – that had taken place in the previous two years. Not bad. The educational programs were also interesting – invitations to participate in the DQ/UVA International Relations Co-op with joint classes, mentorships, and lectures, as well as opportunities to audit courses at UVA and Piedmont Valley Community College. She wondered if there’d be a chance to teach at either place.

She lay back against the sofa pillows, closed her eyes. What, for heaven’s sake, was she thinking? At 54, she wasn’t ready to give up work. And in the future, when she did retire, she was going to find a community near D.C.

Still, the notion of making some life changes had its appeal. She’d been teaching at NOVA for almost a decade. She’d lived in the same D.C. neighborhood for just as long. Over the years, she’d hung out with the same long-time friends. She had to admit she’d welcome change at this stage of her life. Maybe it was menopause, or her lifelong readiness to try something new, expand her horizons.

She headed to the kitchen and the bottle of sauvignon blanc in the fridge. After a big swallow of wine with a full citrus flavor, she made her way to the bathroom to run a bath. Catching herself in the bathroom mirror, she checked out her deepening laugh lines, a lot like her mother’s.

Eve hadn’t seen her mother in years. Barbara had re-married when Eve was in college and moved to California, leaving Eve to make her own way in New York. Hurt by her mother’s indifference, struggling with depression, Eve ultimately put her energy into college life, her career, and, eventually, marriage. When the marriage fell apart, she leaned more and more on a circle of wondefful women friends.

She studied her wrinkles again. Nothing worth worrying about, but increasingly obvious. Maybe she wasn’t ready for retirement, but it wouldn’t be long. Was it such a bad idea to visit the Quarters with Laura and Tyler and get a get a look at the place, even with retirement a few years away?

Chapter 2

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Two weeks later, on a crisp October morning, Tyler pulled up to Eve’s apartment building and hopped out to load her overnight bag into the back of his mini-van. While Eve wasn’t thrilled by a visit to a retirement community, she was greatly looking forward to the fall foliage on the way to Charlottesville.

Laura had arranged a tour and lunch at the Quarters on Wednesday, followed by an evening at the Boar’s Head Resort, the town’s spiffiest accommodation. On Thursday morning, while Laura and Tyler went to brunch with family in Charlottesville, Eve would meet with the Chair of UVA’s creative writing program. Having heard good things about it, she was curious what the university had to offer.

As they drove, Eve drank in the beauty of the gold and amber leaves, open fields, and grassy farms. The temperature climbed to the high sixties and she relished the thought of a long swim in the resort’s heated pool at the end of the day. Heading south, they passed many markers for Civil War battlegrounds, as well as advertisements for tours of President Madison’s and Monroe’s homes, and, of course, Jefferson’s home, Monticello. She would have enjoyed those tours, but was more drawn to finding out about UVA.

Swinging around from the front seat, Laura passed Eve a box of doughnuts. I’ve got to warn you. I told the marketing office at the Quarters we’re prospective residents.

But I’m not.