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Livvie looked puzzled. “What’s that?”
“They prepare food for parties and special dinners and other events.”
“Do they have to work awful hard like Daddy?”
“I don’t know if it’s the same as your daddy, but caterers work different hours than some parents, especially late afternoons and evenings. Us kids usually stayed with our grandmother when they were busy.”
“I don’t have a grandma.”
“But you have Gemma, which is great, right?”
Livvie grinned and nodded, handing one of the tiny cups to Simon.
It wasn’t entirely true that she didn’t have a grandmother. Legally, she did. Olivia’s family was gone and Simon’s mother had died when he was nine, but when he was eleven, Richard Kessler had forced his wife to adopt his former lover’s child. Karen had tried, in her awkward way, to treat Simon decently, but he’d been the living reminder her husband had never been faithful and that she hadn’t given him the son he craved. Neither Karen nor Simon’s father was a part of their lives now.
“Please have some cookies,” Livvie said, holding out a plate to her guest.
Rachel took one of the cookies and ate a bite. “Delicious. Did you make them yourself?”
Giggling, his daughter shook her head. “We got them at a bakery. I don’t know how to cook. Do you?”
“It’s one of my hobbies.”
“Did your mommy teach you how?”
Simon’s throat suddenly closed with suppressed emotion. He tried not to remind Livvie of how much she’d lost when Olivia died. Though, to be honest, cooking hadn’t been one of his wife’s skills. Instead she’d told their daughter about clothing designs and the way certain fabrics moved depending on how they were cut.
“My mother and father both taught me,” Rachel explained. “Dad is the baker. He makes breads and desserts, while Mom does most of the other stuff. I enjoy doing both.”
“My mommy can’t teach me,” Livvie answered with the curious frankness that seemed part of both her age and personality. “She went to heaven when I was five.”
“I’m sorry. If she was anything like you, she must have been very special.”
Livvie beamed, then turned and looked at him. “I hardly ever see you in the kitchen, Daddy. Can you cook?”
“’Fraid not, kiddo. I learned more about business stuff than cooking spaghetti when I was growing up.”
His daughter giggled.
Simon loved it when she laughed. He loved it when she seemed to be happy instead of scared and pulled into herself. At times he worried that he frightened her. In more sensible moments he was sure that was ridiculous. But he also knew he was very much the man his ruthless father had molded him to be.
RACHEL HADN’T BEEN sure about accepting Livvie Kessler’s invitation to a tea party, but the child seemed lonely and it had felt like the right thing to do. Still, it hurt when Rachel thought that if her marriage had succeeded, she might have a little girl or boy around Livvie’s age.
She pushed the thought away. If she’d known that Livvie’s father was Simon Kessler and that he would be coming home, she might have refused Livvie’s invitation.
On the weekend she preferred keeping things casual and comfortable, and the brief glimpses she’d caught of Simon had suggested he was brooding and intense, ready to explode into action at any moment. There was nothing wrong with that. She’d known plenty of people with the same coiled energy inside, but sitting at a child’s tea party with one of them unsettled her. Besides, the few times their gazes had connected in the past, he’d turned away as if he had no interest in other people...or even in common courtesies.
But she gave the guy credit for one thing—he was obviously a hardworking businessman, yet he was willing to sit on the floor and have a tea party with his motherless child. Whatever other faults he might have, she found that admirable.
Nonetheless, she quickly finished her tea and cookie as soon as Livvie was done with hers. She noticed that Simon did the same—perhaps hoping his daughter’s guest wouldn’t stay long.
“Thank you, this has been lovely,” Rachel told her small hostess. “I enjoyed it, but I’d better go.” She untangled her legs and stood.
“Do you have to?” Livvie asked plaintively.
“Afraid so. I have things to do before going out tonight.”
Nicole had invited everyone to her house for a barbecue and Rachel had offered to bring a couple of salads. Had Nicole and her fiancé, Jordan Masters, finally settled on their wedding plans? Of course, Adam was now engaged to Cassie Bryant so they might have a similar announcement. What’s more, the agency’s office manager, Chelsea Masters, who also happened to be Jordan’s sister, was seriously involved with a grade school teacher. The next year could be busy with all the weddings of people at Moonlight Ventures.
Rachel had wondered if Nicole and Adam both getting engaged would change the dynamics of their friendship, but it was working out all right. After the couples were married, the four business partners probably wouldn’t hang out as often in a group, but they had never spent every minute in each other’s pockets, anyhow. Besides, Jordan and Cassie were great.
Cassie was the legal guardian to two of the agency’s clients. She designed websites and had revamped Moonlight Ventures’ website. Jordan was a reporter, which was how he and Nicole met, or rather met again. They’d known each other growing up, but hadn’t been in contact until he was asked to do an article about her changing careers from modeling to being an agent.
“I’m really, really, really glad you came.” Livvie walked her guest to the door, a proper little hostess. “Can we do things together sometimes?”
Rachel smiled at the sweet, hopeful face, aware that Simon had followed with a closed expression. “Maybe, if it’s all right with your daddy.”
“We’re neighbors and neighbors should be friends,” Livvie said with her oddly adult air. It probably wasn’t unusual for an only child who’d been homeschooled, though earlier Gemma had explained Livvie was now enrolled in a private school with kids her own age. Maybe it would help her be less lonely.
“Thanks again for the tea,” Rachel repeated when Simon stayed silent.
She took the stairs down, aware of the heavy security door snapping shut behind her. Nobody except the Kesslers could access the top floor of the Carthage. A special key was needed for the elevator and cameras monitored the third-floor staircase.
The setup seemed slightly paranoid, but maybe Simon Kessler was a fanatic about his privacy. Rachel understood, and the penthouse was undoubtedly a nice home. She’d only seen a small part of it, but visible from the living room was an actual garden, with a deck, flower boxes, a tiny area of grass and trees in large planters. High, spotless heavy glass enclosed the space, ensuring Livvie could play with no chance of falling.
Rachel let herself into her condo and felt as if she was reentering the real world.
She would have loved having a house and garden like the one Nicole had purchased, but the muscles in her left leg weren’t as strong as they’d been before the accident, especially if she made unusual or twisting movements. So rather than hire someone to do the yard and other exterior work, she’d decided on a condo with a balcony large enough to host small groups. She couldn’t have found a better location under the circumstances. The neighborhood was in a historic town, tucked into the greater Seattle area. It enjoyed some preservation from further development along the lake by protected green space on either side. There was even a mom-and-pop type of grocery store up the block, complete with an old-style deli.
While she vacuumed the living room, Rachel thought about Simon Kessler. Livvie must take after her mother, except for her eyes, which were as dark as her father’s. But the little girl’s eyes were eager and hopeful, unlike Simon’s.
Rachel could understand. In pictures of her taken after the accident, her eyes had conveyed the same sense of bottled-up emotions she saw in Simon’s gaze. Only slowly had she lost the self-conscious pain she hadn’t wanted anyone else to see.
Simon’s wife had died a little over two years ago. Maybe that was why he seemed so intense, struggling to keep himself under tight control... He was a man who had lost the woman he loved and was trying to navigate this new world as a single dad. Having a girlfriend in New York didn’t mean he’d figured things out; it could just have been part of the process.
Rachel pushed the thoughts aside to prepare lettuce and other vegetables for a Thai noodle salad.
At five she drove out to Nicole’s house. Jordan opened the door and took the box of food she carried.
“Mmm.” Jordan sniffed. “I smell onions, peanuts, roasted sesame... Must be Thai.”
“Is that your favorite?”
“Whatever you cook is my favorite. I haven’t tasted anything you make that I haven’t loved.”
“That’s for sure,” Nicole agreed, overhearing them as they walked into the kitchen. “And I’ve been eating your cooking a lot longer than Jordan.”
“I’ve been wondering if you’d like me to fix a meal for after your wedding,” Rachel said. “Or the rehearsal dinner.”
Jordan put the box on the counter and exchanged a look with his fiancée.
Nicole sighed. “Actually, we’ve decided against a formal wedding. We considered giving it a try, but there are too many George and Masters family bombs threatening to go off. It would be the Hatfields and McCoys, Seattle-style.” She clutched her forehead in mock horror.
“Oh, dear.”
Rachel knew that Nicole’s mother didn’t get along with Jordan’s mom, a long-time feud that the engaged couple had hoped would be put aside, at least for their wedding. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.
Jordan shrugged. “The fight runs too deep, and neither side wants to give up being angry. Maybe someday. But if it doesn’t, at least we live two states away.”
“I hope the battle doesn’t extend to the two of you.”
“Nope. Mom has decided Nicole is perfectly wonderful—despite everything—and Nicole’s mother says she can’t figure how I turned out so well with parents like that.”
“Yikes.” Rachel could imagine the battle scenes if the two families got together.
“Right.” Jordan put the salads she’d brought into the refrigerator. “It’s our own version of the Cold War and we don’t want it to heat up.”
“Then what are you doing for the wedding?”
“We’re going to our fallback plan. December or January, city hall, no friends or family except witnesses,” Nicole said succinctly.
“We won’t let them drag us into their fight,” Jordan added.
It made sense to Rachel. “Then let me do a nonwedding party afterward. We can have it at my place... Unless you’re planning to leave for a honeymoon immediately?”
“We’re still making plans for our honeymoon.” Nicole exchanged glances with Jordan. He nodded and she grinned. “But that sounds fabulous.”
“Sure does,” Jordan agreed. “Thanks. We wouldn’t leave until the next day, anyhow, and it would make the wedding day more special.”
Rachel knew Nicole didn’t care if she had a fancy wedding. Being in love and starting her married life with Jordan was what mattered to her, and all Jordan cared about was being with Nicole.
It was probably natural that Nicole had recently questioned whether Rachel might consider marriage again—she was in love and wanted the whole world to be in love with her. But Rachel didn’t think it was likely. Her life was good, and getting involved with someone could jeopardize the peace she’d finally found.
CHAPTER TWO (#uc66128d9-cdea-5cf0-b7b4-e2b7eac7f63e)
RACHEL DROVE TO the office on Monday morning feeling as if a hidden thought was nibbling at her mind. She’d experienced the sensation before and it often turned out to be something important she needed to consider.
Hopefully it would emerge in time.
As she pulled into the lot, she saw Matt Tupper stepping down from a transport van. He didn’t have his guide dog and was using his cane. She walked his direction, and he turned at the sound of her footsteps.
“Hey, Rachel,” he called. “Good morning.”
“I didn’t know my walk was that distinctive.”
“It isn’t hard to deduce. Not many people arrive this early and Nicole usually wears heels. You wear flats most of the time and walk with a different pace.”
Rachel didn’t explain that heels made her left leg ache.
She was learning about the importance of listening from Matt. Even if she hadn’t seen the tension in Simon Kessler’s face, his voice would have told her a great deal about him.
“Is Pepper all right?” she asked, trying to dismiss Simon from her mind. “She’s usually with you.” Pepper was Matt’s guide dog and she was devoted to Matt.
“Pepper is fine, but she’s due for her annual vaccinations. My brother offered to take her to the vet so I could get to the studio for an early recording. He’ll bring her by later. I’d give her the day off, but she’s restless when she isn’t with me.”
“How has it been going since you expanded?” she asked.
“We’re still getting the equipment installed for the second live studio, but it’s already booked ahead for months. Tara is coming in this weekend to ensure they finish the work.”
“That’s Tara Henley, your assistant.”
“Right. With the schedule so full, it looks like I’ll still end up doing books for the blind on Saturdays. Maybe it’s just as well since my volunteer readers have more available time on weekends.”
Matt owned a recording studio and had been one of the renters Rachel and her friends had inherited when buying the building along with Moonlight Ventures. He recorded radio spots, music and audio books, often hiring his vocal talent through the agency. Instead of being off the atrium area, he was in a rear div of the building where they had few renters, so it hadn’t been a problem to lease him additional space for the second studio. Ironically, their agency also needed to expand, but the space next to them was occupied, with several years left on the lease.
“That’s terrific,” Rachel said. “You may have to add a third live studio.”
He chuckled. “Maybe. As my dad says, success is a two-edged sword. Have a great day.”
ONCE INSIDE HIS STUDIO, Matt didn’t really need his cane. His employees knew to leave everything in its place or to tell him if something had been moved. He walked around with assurance, occasionally putting out a hand if he sensed something wasn’t right.
Even before losing his eyesight, he’d been aware of sound and how pitch and modulation changed in relation to everything else. He navigated relatively well for that reason, usually able to sense larger objects nearby, though he still stubbed his toes often enough. Losing his sight hadn’t even changed his college plans—he’d always intended to major in electronic communications.
The phone rang and he hit the speaker button. “Tupper Recording.”
“It’s Conan, Matt.” Conan’s voice sounded gravelly, as if he’d just got out of bed.
“What’s up?”
Conan started to say something, then broke into a fit of coughing. Obviously it was more than a rough morning voice.
“Got a cold,” he finally choked out. “We can’t make it today, but we’ll still pay a full fee for the recording session.”
“The cancellation fee in the contract is fine,” Matt said firmly. It made him uncomfortable when people tried to pay more than their contracts required. Maybe he was being ultrasensitive, but it felt as if they were giving alms to the blind.
“When can we reschedule?” Conan asked. He was an account executive for a major bank...who also blew a mean saxophone. His jazz band played in local clubs periodically, and they’d decided to record a CD under their own start-up label.
“Let me check the schedule.” Matt pulled it up on the computer. He used both a braille and audio reader, but preferred having the electronic braille device translate from the screen when other people might be able to hear. “I don’t have an opening until three weeks from today, 4:00 p.m.”
“That’s—” Conan had another fit of coughing. “We’ll take it,” he said when he could talk again. “Sorry about this. My kid brought the bug home from preschool and must have spread it to the whole band when we practiced a few days ago. I’ve been getting emails from everyone that they’re sick.”
“Get well soon,” Matt returned, entering the booking in the system and setting an electronic reminder to send a revision to the contract for signature.
“Thanks.”
Matt disconnected and automatically reached to rub behind Pepper’s ears, only to remember she wasn’t there. He missed her. He’d resisted getting a guide dog for years, but Pepper had become a friend who sensed his moods better than any human had ever done.
Sitting back, Matt listened to the sounds coming from the street and the whisper of the HVAC system blowing air through the vents. This was his kingdom and it was exactly where he’d always wanted to be...even if his life hadn’t been changed by a driver jumping the curb and plowing into a group of high school seniors.
