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Livvie let out a huge breath of air. “I know. When I grow up I’m going to work at Mama’s place.”
“Your mama’s place?” Rachel asked.
“She made dresses and things. Daddy, you ’splain it.” Looking sad, Livvie slipped off her chair and wandered to the end of the balcony to stare at the lake.
Rachel glanced at Simon and saw his expression had gone tighter than usual. “My wife, Olivia, designed a line of clothing. When she... Well, she left the business to Livvie and I’ve been trying to run it the best I can.”
“Was it based in New York?”
“No, in Seattle.”
Rachel straightened in her chair. “Good grief, are you talking about Liv’ing Creations?”
His eyebrow shot upward. “Yes. You sound familiar with the label.”
“I should hope so. I know my agency used to provide models for their shows and catalogs. I’ve also enjoyed their clothes and have several items in my closet. Older ones, that is, not...” She stopped, aware she might be treading on sensitive ground.
“You mean nothing from the more current lines, not since Olivia’s last designs were released,” he said in a low, flat tone, possibly to keep his daughter from hearing.
“Basically.” Rachel kept her volume equally low. “The line has radically changed direction over the past few seasons. It no longer has the vitality and style that originally caught my attention. In particular, the rich colors have become muted.”
From the little she could read in Simon’s expression, she didn’t think he’d enjoyed hearing her opinion, even if he knew—or suspected—something was wrong with his wife’s company.
“Maybe it appeals to other people, just not to me,” Rachel added awkwardly.
“I hired Janine Jenkins, a clothing designer from New York, to keep things going. Sales have been indifferent,” he said, “but the manager of Liv’ing Creations feels it’s because consumers know Olivia is gone and are avoiding the label for that reason. She and the designer are convinced another season or two should turn things around.”
“I see,” Rachel said carefully, not sure how else to respond.
She hadn’t been aware of Olivia Kessler’s death; she’d simply lost interest when the designs no longer showed the unique flair she had first appreciated. It seemed unlikely that the original buyers would return if the current designer stayed in her conservative mode, though interest might pick up in a new market. The designs weren’t awful, but they felt like something you’d find in any nice department store.
As Simon started to say something else, Rachel saw Livvie heading back to the table.
“Hey, Livvie, does your daddy allow you to have dessert?” she called in case he hadn’t heard the soft footsteps.
Livvie brightened. “If I eat a good dinner. I ate a good dinner, didn’t I, Daddy?”
“That’s right, honey.”
Rachel was relieved to be talking about something else. “In that case, I have strawberry sorbet, along with cookies that a friend made.”
“Yum!”
Rachel began clearing the table and Simon got up to help, despite her urging to stay put and relax.
“Should I put these in the dishwasher?” he asked, carrying the tray into the kitchen.
“Just leave everything on the counter and I’ll clean up in the morning. Would you like coffee? I got decaf at the Java Train Stop.”
“Sounds good.”
She filled two cups from the insulated carton and offered cream and sugar, but Simon declined.
“Is that homemade?” he asked as she served the sorbet.
“Yes. I made it for a gathering a couple weeks ago. As promised, tonight’s dinner is all about leftovers.”
“Everything was excellent.”
They carried the coffee and dessert to the balcony.
Livvie tasted the sorbet and grinned. “Double yum.”
“Rachel made it,” Simon told her.
The child’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know you could make ice cream stuff at home.”
“You can make most things if you know how and have the right tools.”
While they ate, the pink glow in the sky faded entirely and the lights from homes and streetlamps shone in the blackness.
When the dessert and coffee were finished, Simon smiled politely. “Rachel, thanks for a pleasant evening, but we’d better get going.”
“I’m glad you could come.”
“I like eggplant,” Livvie said, her eyes shining. “And I looove strawberry ice cream.”
Rachel chuckled and walked them to the door, where Livvie hugged her.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she exclaimed.
Unable to resist, Rachel bent and kissed the top of her head. “You’re very welcome.”
But when the door closed behind them, her shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Unlike evenings with her friends, spending time with Simon Kessler was far from relaxing. The way he looked at her, as if weighing her words for a secret meaning, his measured responses, his guarded expression...she felt as if she’d run a marathon.
SIMON WALKED UPSTAIRS with his daughter. They spent an hour playing games before she put on her “princess” nightgown and he tucked her into bed.
“Daddy, I like Rachel.”
He brushed the hair away from her forehead. “Of course you do, honey. She’s a nice lady.”
“Can I go visit her?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Livvie yawned. “Okay. G’night.”
“Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
She giggled sleepily while he turned off the light and left the bedroom door ajar.
At his computer, Simon started looking through the files for Liv’ing Creations. Rachel’s comments about the current clothing line were bothering him.
It no longer has the vitality and style that originally caught my attention. In particular, the rich colors have become muted.
The colors in Janine Jenkins’s designs were undoubtedly more subdued, and he wondered if Rachel had put her finger on the issues that Liv’ing Creations was having. Though he hadn’t wanted to admit it, he was starting to think Janine Jenkins was part of the problem, not the solution.
What had Rachel said—that her talent agency had once provided models for the design house? A search through the financial reports gave him a name, Moonlight Ventures.
At the agency’s website, Simon found pictures and brief bios of the owners. His eyes widened as he recognized two of the partners, supermodels Nicole George and Adam Wilding. Logan Kensington was a world-renowned photographer, while Rachel had worked as both a model and a makeup artist.
Simon broadened his search on the internet and found something Rachel’s agency biography hadn’t mentioned—her modeling career had been cut short due to injuries in an accident at work. After recovering, she’d turned her talents to doing makeup on photo shoots and in the movie world.
He tapped his fingers on the keyboard. Liv’ing Creations’ sales were lackluster and in danger of slipping into the red. He’d sold most of his holdings and split the proceeds between Livvie’s trust fund and a donation to ovarian cancer research, seeing both as an investment in his daughter’s future. Still, he could probably subsidize the design house for a year or two. But that wasn’t what Olivia would have wanted. His wife had poured herself into the company. She’d often talked about wanting to leave a piece of herself behind for Livvie, and that had become especially important to her once she’d fallen ill. It wouldn’t be much of a legacy if the fashion house became a joke in the industry and died an inglorious death.
Restless, he turned off the computer and went into the garden. While sitting on Rachel’s balcony earlier in the evening, he’d realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed the fresh air or appreciated the night vista. In fact, he could almost hear Olivia chiding him. She would have asked him if he wanted their daughter to grow up with such a limited sense of things. After all, kids often modeled how their parents behaved.
Simon shuddered. His father had been as ruthless and narrowly focused as a man could be. He’d dragged Simon out of a good foster home, made his wife sign adoption papers and set out to mold his son in his own image. He’d succeeded. Simon had learned his lessons well, cold-bloodedly pursuing a hostile takeover of Richard Kessler’s business as an adult and then taking it apart and selling the pieces.
Justice or, more likely, retribution?
Because if his father had behaved decently, Simon’s biological mother might still be alive. Instead she’d died, overworked and unable to get needed medical care. However happy Simon’s foster home had been, it couldn’t erase the memory of losing her so senselessly.
When he and Olivia had got married they’d both been obsessed with work until Livvie was on the way. That was when they’d taken a step back to review their lives and realized they wanted more for themselves and their child. Now it was time to revisit those values.
A crisp breeze swirled around Simon, carrying a fragrance that reminded him of Rachel’s light perfume.
His senses went on alert.
Rachel’s balcony was located below the penthouse garden and he realized she might be sitting outside as well, watching the moon over Lake Washington. He hadn’t enjoyed hearing her opinion about the latest designs from Liv’ing Creations, yet that didn’t mean they weren’t valid. Perhaps he should call Moonlight Ventures in the morning and make an appointment with her. They could talk, and if her ideas seemed on target, he could try hiring her as a consultant—that would make it clear the contact was purely business.
CHAPTER THREE (#uc66128d9-cdea-5cf0-b7b4-e2b7eac7f63e)
ON TUESDAY, GEMMA woke early and contemplated how quickly the days were getting shorter. It was always that way in Washington—the long days of summer, shifting into the equally long nights of winter.
She turned over, thinking about being close to her family again...and wrinkled her nose.
Mr. Kessler—it was hard to think of him as Simon—had arranged for her to visit Washington every three months after they’d moved to New York, but after the first trip, she’d quickly found reasons not to go. She loved her parents, but it always felt as if they were looking past her to admire what her talented oldest brother was doing.
Drake looked like Adonis, had the social skills of a diplomat and was now a resident in cardiology at the University of Washington Medical Center. There seemed to be nothing he hadn’t accomplished and probably done better than anyone else. When she and her other brother were growing up and wanted to try something new, their parents would say, “Drake is so good at that, find your own special gift.” Once she’d been tempted to suggest fan dancing since she was reasonably certain it was one of the few things Drake hadn’t tried.
No wonder Mom and Dad were so proud of him. They claimed to be proud of her and Sully, too, but Gemma often wondered if they were being completely honest. Sully didn’t care. Dad’s moodiness while drinking hadn’t frightened him the way it had frightened her, though it was the reason they’d both been eager to get away from home.
Stop.
A deep sigh welled from Gemma’s chest. Her biggest problem was shyness and a lack of confidence. It was easy to be with kids. They didn’t judge, could throw themselves wholly into play and had wonderful imaginations. Studying childhood development and becoming a teacher had seemed an ideal fit, though the idea hadn’t impressed her family. Nor had her slow movement through college while they pointedly mentioned her brother’s breakneck academic successes.
So what about Rachel’s suggestion of doing voice work? She knew people were hired to do narration for things like cartoons, but it seemed improbable that she could be one of them.
A faint knock on the door caught Gemma’s attention, more a scratching than a knock.
“Come in, Livvie,” she called softly. Mr. Kessler slept poorly now that his wife was gone and she didn’t want to interrupt any rest he might be getting.
Livvie slipped inside and ran to the bed. “I had a bad dream. It made my tummy cold.”
“I’m sorry.” Gemma patted the pillow next to hers. “Maybe telling me about it will make you feel better.”
Hugging the pillow in her arms, Livvie began relating the nightmare. It was about an evil sorcerer who killed the queen and was trying to cast an evil spell on the king and send the princess into the forest to live with a witch who didn’t want her. There was a dragon who was actually a good dragon and a talking horse who could knock down walls, but the underlying theme was the same as in all of her dreams...the fear that her daddy would be taken away, just like her mother.
Yet a new element seemed to be emerging—Livvie was beginning to understand that she didn’t have anyone in the world except her father. However frustrating Gemma’s own childhood had been, she had an extended family—aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins—a great big safety net. But Livvie didn’t have anyone else except two grandparents who’d never made an effort to meet her.
“Maybe you should tell your daddy about your bad dreams,” Gemma suggested.
Livvie shook her head in a definitive no. “I don’t want to make Daddy sad. Promise you won’t tell.”
“I... Okay,” Gemma promised reluctantly.
She’d tried to suggest a grief counselor to Mr. Kessler, at least for Livvie, but maybe she hadn’t been forceful enough. Perhaps she should look for an opportunity to try again.
ON THURSDAY, RACHEL was startled when she found Simon Kessler’s name on her morning appointment calendar. The discussion she’d had with Gemma about doing voice work was a possible reason for it, though surely it wasn’t his business what an employee did on her off time. Or was there something personal going on between them?
At eleven, Chelsea brought Simon back to her office.
Rachel gestured to one of the chairs at the side of her desk. Even if her office had been larger, he would seem overpowering in it.
He sat and glanced around. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. Originally we envisioned a small agency with specialty clients, but we’ve expanded beyond that. We expect to hire more agents within the next two years.”
“I understand your blog is increasingly popular, both inside and outside the talent industry.”
Rachel’s senses went on higher alert. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall mentioning the name of the agency to Simon or Gemma. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about us.”
“I’ve been doing research on you.”
She narrowed her eyes. Often when somebody brought up research it meant they were digging into details of her past that she didn’t want disturbed. How had she felt lying under a piece of heavy equipment while rescuers figured out how to get it off without doing further damage? How had she felt when her husband walked out less than a year later? Was he obsessed with appearance, the way his ex-girlfriends claimed? Was he shallow? Did he leave because of her scars?
Rachel slowed her racing brain and focused.
“Why were you researching the agency?” she asked pleasantly, seeing no need to unload her emotional baggage on other people.
“Because of your comments the other evening about Liv’ing Creations. I mentioned the sales have slipped and you seem to have an insight into why.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t crossed Rachel’s mind as a possibility for Simon’s appointment. “I was simply speaking from the point of view of a customer.”
“But you have experience in the fashion industry. You’re a former model and your partners are connected to the business. Not to mention the fact that you’re still involved in supplying models for the fashion world.”
“Perhaps, but the agency is mostly regional. At the moment we don’t have any clients modeling in places like New York or Paris.” Rachel didn’t add that she’d once been Kevin’s most successful client and had modeled all over the world, for most of the major designers. Eventually Moonlight Ventures would have that kind of profile again; they’d already had some of their clients cast for Hollywood projects.
