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RACHEL’S DAY PASSED quickly between desk work and site checks, which included visiting two photo shoots where new clients were booked. Everything was going smoothly in both locations.
Late in the afternoon she and Adam enjoyed rejecting a business owner who was supposedly searching for a model to represent his used-car dealership. The guy had raised alarm bells when they’d talked, so she’d checked him out further. Apparently he used what he called “casting calls” to meet and then try to date female models. Adam had wanted to be the one who told him to get lost but in the end agreed they could do it together.
She drove home in a good mood, encountering Gemma and Livvie when she stopped in the lobby to check her mailbox.
“Hi, Rachel,” Livvie cried. “We’re going to the lake. Can you come with us?”
Gemma nodded and smiled, but Rachel hesitated. When she’d mentioned spending time with Livvie if her father agreed, he hadn’t responded one way or the other. But surely he would have told Gemma if he didn’t approve.
“I’d love to,” Rachel said. “Can you wait a minute for me to change into something else?”
“Okay.”
She rushed up the stairs and slipped into casual clothes. Livvie’s face bloomed with pleasure when she got back and they headed toward the water. Once there, the child concentrated on her boat, while Rachel chatted with Gemma.
“It’s beautiful here in Washington,” Gemma murmured after a while. “So green and fresh. I missed it in New York, though we were able to see things like the Statue of Liberty and museums. I especially enjoyed Greenwich Village.”
Once again her clear, musical voice impressed Rachel, and she suddenly recalled the elusive idea that had been buzzing in her brain. She should have thought of it when she’d run into Matt Tupper that morning.
“Gemma, would you be interested in doing side jobs?” she asked. “At the agency we get calls for people to do narration or voice-overs and other vocal work. I’m sure you’d be great at it.”
“Oh, I never thought of such a thing. I’m not... I mean, I don’t have any experience and can’t imagine anyone would be interested in hiring me.”
“They might. I’m not saying you’d make a fortune or anything. You could even ease your way into it by doing volunteer reading. One of the tenants in our building has a sound studio and he records books and magazines for the blind—regionally published stuff that the National Library Service is less likely to do. He’s always looking for readers willing to give time to the project.”
The nervous clutch of Gemma’s fingers relaxed. “I’d be happy to volunteer, only I doubt I’d be very good.”
“Think about it. There isn’t a deadline.”
They stayed quiet after that, watching Livvie direct her boat in the water. It was a beautiful late afternoon, and Rachel enjoyed just sitting and watching the rippling lake.
“Hey, kiddo!” called Simon Kessler out of the blue.
“Daddy,” Livvie cried, “come see how I make my boat move.”
Rachel’s pulse had jumped when Simon Kessler’s voice intruded into her musings. She watched as he went to the water’s edge, crouching to speak with his daughter—from what she’d read, getting down to eye level was the best way to talk with kids. At the moment, Livvie seemed to be pleading with him for something and Rachel restrained a grin. Livvie would be hard not to spoil with her funny adult manners and earnest eyes.
Gemma looked at her cell phone. “Oh, dear, we’ve been here longer than I thought. I need to go, I have a class tonight at the community center. I’m learning sign language.”
She went over to speak with her employer, then waved and hurried away. Rachel stood to leave as well, thinking she needed to develop more hobbies or take classes. She loved cooking and reading, but having other interests would be good.
“Rachel, wait,” Livvie screeched, dashing up the pathway. “Please come with us for dinner.”
Wishing she’d made her escape earlier, Rachel smiled. “That’s nice of you, Livvie, but I have leftovers in my fridge that need to be eaten. I hate to waste food.”
“Pleeeze? I want you to come. Daddy, please ask Rachel to come.”
“Livvie, honey, get your boat out of the water while I talk with Ms. Clarion.”
“Okay.”
Rachel looked at Simon, whose face wore the same closed expression she’d seen before. He was darkly handsome, with chiseled features that might photograph well. Strange, now that she was a talent agent, it seemed as if she was always assessing how someone might look in an ad or appear on television or in film. She’d have to work on that, because she didn’t want her view of the world becoming too narrow.
But maybe it wasn’t just from becoming an agent. In all honesty, she would have noticed Simon’s looks regardless.
He was a hard man to ignore.
SIMON HADN’T WANTED to agree to Livvie’s request about inviting Rachel to dinner, but the little mischief maker had asked for a treat and he’d impulsively said yes before learning which treat she wanted.
His daughter had taken a strong, instant liking to their downstairs neighbor. He just didn’t know why. While Rachel had an almost otherworldly beauty, it probably wasn’t something that would influence a child. He’d questioned Gemma to find out if Rachel had done something special to catch Livvie’s attention, but she’d said nothing unusual had happened aside from the minor earthquake. Rachel, it seemed, had been exceptionally calm during the event, which had really impressed Gemma.
“We would very much like having you as our guest for dinner,” he said formally.
“Thanks, but as I told Livvie, I have food in my refrigerator that will go to waste,” Rachel explained, her gaze seeming straightforward.
“I hope you’ll reconsider,” he urged. “She rarely asks for anything, so it’s hard when I can’t give her what she wants.”
“Well...there’s far more than I can eat, so maybe you could have dinner at my place.”
He went rigid, recalling a few meals to which he and Livvie had been invited since Olivia’s death where there’d been a clear ulterior motive.
“Really, Rachel? Can we eat with you?” Livvie asked from behind him.
Was it possible Rachel had seen his daughter coming and spoken when she did, counting on getting his child’s support? Or was he being unreasonably suspicious again? He desperately missed Olivia’s sensible way of keeping him grounded.
“It’s up to your father,” Rachel said.
“Thanks, that would be nice,” he agreed finally. After all, one dinner didn’t mean anything.
“Great. I’m going to head back to my place. I’m in 2B and can have everything ready in an hour. Does that sound okay?”
“It works for us.”
He kept himself from watching her graceful figure walk away, and concentrated on spending a while longer with Livvie, putting the little motorized boat back into the water and sending it around in circles. Then they went home to wash up for the meal. Livvie wanted to put on the dress she’d worn for a Christmas party, but he talked her out of the frilly outfit before changing his business suit for less formal clothing.
Shortly before seven, he rang the doorbell to 2B.
Rachel was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt and had a dish towel tied around her waist instead of an apron. A delicious, faintly exotic scent wafted through the air.
“Welcome,” she said, waving them inside.
Simon glanced around. It was the first time he’d seen one of the other condos in the building. This one seemed spacious and had a nice lakeside view. The living room was decorated with eclectic touches from around the world and an electronic picture frame shifted through scenes he recognized from his own travels.
Rachel had gone into the kitchen and returned with a tray holding serving bowls. She carried it toward the French doors opening onto the deck.
“I enjoy eating outside when the weather is nice,” she said. “Is that all right?”
“Sounds fine.”
“Sit wherever you’re comfortable.”
A minute later she reappeared with a large platter. “As I mentioned, this is all leftovers.”
“I like leftovers,” Livvie announced.
His daughter seemed determined to like everything connected to their neighbor, though Simon wasn’t sure Livvie knew what Rachel meant. Neither he nor Olivia had bothered with leftovers much.
“So do I,” Rachel said. “Since my parents were caterers, I grew up on food left from their catering jobs. Maybe I’m biased, but I think some dishes are better the second time around.”
Simon looked at the platter of meat and roasted vegetables, alongside bowls of salads.
“You made all of this?”
“Just the salads. My friends grilled the meat and veggies for a get-together on Saturday. Fewer guests came than expected, so they sent a container of the excess home with me. I meant to share it around the office today and forgot.”
“What’s that?” Livvie asked, pointing to a vegetable.
“Eggplant.”
Livvie giggled. “That’s silly. Eggs don’t grow on plants.”
“No, but some types of eggplant have an egg shape, or at least that must be what people thought.”
“Do I have to eat a whole serving if it’s yucky?”
Rachel’s lips twitched. “Simon, I don’t know your rules about food, so you should probably answer that.”
“I want Livvie to try things, but she doesn’t have to finish anything she truly dislikes.”
“There’s your answer, Livvie,” Rachel said. “If you want to try it, fine, but I won’t be upset if you don’t want to finish.”
“Okay,” Livvie said, looking relieved. While she seemed eager to please Rachel, she was decidedly picky about her food.
Simon served his daughter before filling his own plate and taking a bite of the eggplant. He’d eaten it in eggplant parmesan, but this was different and quite delicious.
Livvie chewed a small amount of the eggplant and made a face before swallowing. But she ate another bite, so perhaps she was merely concentrating.
“This is excellent,” he said, tasting a salad of noodles and various vegetables.
Rachel didn’t appear flattered by the compliment. She simply shrugged. “Thanks to my parents, cooking has always been part of my life.”
“But you didn’t decide to become a caterer?”
She grinned. “I’d rather cook when I want, not on demand.”
“To keep it a hobby, not a job.”
“Right.” Rachel cocked her head. “I was thinking about hobbies earlier. It’s interesting that you mentioned them.”
“How do you define a hobby?” he asked politely.
“I’m not sure. I used to think it was to create something lasting, but that isn’t true of activities like mountain climbing. And food only lasts until you eat it.”
“Perhaps it leaves lasting memories.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Or a little extra on the hips.”
Simon tried not to look at her figure; he’d already noted how attractive she was. Sandra’s determined efforts to get him in front of an altar had left him suspicious of women, yet he didn’t think Rachel was fishing for compliments.
He glanced at Livvie. She was exploring the food on her plate. Some dishes she obviously liked, but others she seemed less certain about. He decided it was best to let her continue experimenting without comment.
“Rachel, what other hobbies would you enjoy?”
“I’m still thinking about it. Gemma mentioned being in a sign language class, so I thought about taking classes, as well. I’ve always been fascinated by anthropology.”
Simon was so busy he couldn’t imagine needing a hobby. “I’ve never had to worry about it, but I suppose something like that would help fill your time.”
She sent him a look tinged with annoyance. “I don’t need to fill my time,” she said crisply, “but I’m essentially self-employed now. It would be easy to lose myself in work. Instead I want to expand my mind and explore new things. But I suppose some people don’t care about doing that.”
It was a not-so-subtle gibe and Simon belatedly realized he must have sounded condescending.
“New things like eggplant?” Livvie asked, innocently breaking the tense moment.
Rachel smiled at her. “New foods are one thing to explore, and I want to find others. There are so many choices, I’ll have to think about what to do.”
He half expected a suggestion his daughter could “help” her figure it out, but Rachel merely served herself more vegetables, then spent a moment gazing at the view from the balcony. The sun had sunk behind the building and the lights of the surrounding community were beginning to glow.
“I love this time of day,” she murmured. “It’s an in-between moment, where maybe you can...”
She stopped and Livvie looked intrigued. “Do what?”
Rachel waved her hand. “Just a fancy of mine. It’s silly. What’s your favorite part of the day?”
As his daughter chattered about mornings and her daily activities, Simon focused on her face, rather than the lake and sparkling lights. Twilight wasn’t his favorite time; it signaled the beginning of evening, a period that reminded him of his loss.
Olivia had worked hard, trying to build her clothing design business into something the world would notice. He’d worked equally hard, but they had set the evening aside for family. And once Livvie had gone to bed, they’d focused on each other.
Well, it had been that way a good deal of the time.
When Olivia had got an idea for a design, she’d wanted to capture it right away. Otherwise, she had explained, she risked losing the nuances. On those evenings, she had quietly disappeared into her work.
Their marriage hadn’t been perfect, but it had been good. Since her death, he’d wondered if she had guessed her life would be short and whether that explained how determined and driven she’d been.
RACHEL SAW A faraway look on Simon’s face and wondered what it might mean. Not that she needed to know. The Kesslers were merely neighbors, and based on her contacts with Simon, she’d rather not get closely acquainted. The only reason she’d offered the dinner invitation was for Livvie’s sake.
“The part I don’t like about mornings is when Daddy leaves,” Livvie finally said.
Simon brushed a crumb from his daughter’s cheek. “Sorry, Livi-kin-kinnie, but that’s what daddies do.”
