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Before she could fill serving dishes, however, she heard the back door open. A minute later, Regina entered the kitchen carrying two plates that she put on the kitchen table.
“What?” Abby asked.
“This is silly” was all the girl said. In another minute, she had three places set at the kitchen table.
“But your dad...”
“Doesn’t mind,” said the deep familiar voice of Rory. He stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling. “Do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, because I was starting to feel like a feudal lord in that dining room. All I need to fill it are about twenty minions. Tonight you sit. Regina and I will wait on you.”
Abby felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not...”
“It’s perfectly right,” he said. “Now sit down, Abby. Regina is looking forward to this.”
Abby looked at Regina, who was beaming. “I am. I never got to do this at Mom’s. You might have to give me instructions.”
“I can do the instructions,” Rory said. “I wasn’t always a too-big-for-my-own-hat superstar, you know. I grew up on a ranch and everyone pitched in. I even used to cook and wash dishes.”
Regina giggled. “You do dishes?”
Rory pretended to scowl at her. “I do indeed.”
“This I want to see,” his daughter answered pertly.
Deciding she really had no choice in the matter, and honestly not minding it because it was fun to watch, Abby sat at the table while Rory and Regina worked to serve the meal. Rory gave gentle instructions, but only when needed, allowing his daughter to do most of the task. Abby’s help was needed only when they didn’t know where to look for something, such as the ladle.
“Really sorry, that’s me,” muttered Rory. “I ought to know what’s in my own kitchen.”
Regina answered. “Your head’s too busy filling that hat.”
He laughed. But then Regina turned and gave him a big hug around his waist. “You’re cool, Dad. And the important thing is writing your songs. I like that new one you’re working on.” Then she went back to serving dinner.
“It’s giving me fits,” he admitted. “Long ago, before I made it, I used to have more melodies and lyrics floating around in my head than I could use. Feels like the well went dry.”
Which, thought Abby, was probably what he’d meant about this place rebuilding him. He’d lost something essential, and he wanted it back. She knew the feeling all too well, except in her case she’d finally reached the point where she didn’t want any of it back. But for him it had to be different. This was not the kind of divorce any artist wanted, she was sure. Watching him move around the kitchen, he didn’t appear troubled, but he sure appeared attractive. The background sizzle he always elicited in her had arisen again. Attracted to her boss? Not good.
Soon they were gathered in a cozy group around the kitchen table. Abby complimented the food generously and Regina said, “I’d like to learn how to make the spaghetti sauce by myself. I could have my friends over for a spaghetti party.”
That caused Rory to lift his head. “So you’re making friends?”
“Of course. It’s easy when your daddy is Rory McLane.”
Abby tensed, watching Rory’s reaction to that. Sadness seemed to flicker over his face. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Regina shrugged. “They’ll get over it soon enough. Then I’ll find out who’s for real.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “How old are you again?”
She giggled. “Old enough. It’s okay, Dad. And actually, I like it. Here I’m meeting kids who don’t have famous parents. It’s different.”
His smile faded again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, then decided against it. Regina didn’t miss the cues, though.
“I know,” she said. “Mom was into the whole scene. Who I could hang out with, all that. I almost never got to meet ordinary kids.” She twirled her fork in her spaghetti. “How can I ever be ordinary if I’m always in a box?”
“A box?” Rory asked.
“A box. That’s how I felt.” But she didn’t seem to have any other way to describe it.
Abby listened to this, both troubled and amazed. She had never before considered what it might be like to be Regina, to have two famous parents. She wished she could ask questions, but Regina had moved on to talking about other things, like getting a horse, leaving Rory to look vaguely troubled.
* * *
After dinner, having been dismissed from dish duty, Abby followed her usual custom of disappearing into her suite at the back of the house. It was a cozy space, decorated pleasantly in warm yellows and blues, clearly designed with a woman in mind by the decorator.
She had a bedroom, a sitting area with a small kitchenette and her own bathroom with a separate shower and a walk-in whirlpool tub. Elegance beyond any she had ever known. All by itself it was a livable apartment, and from the windows in the sitting area she had a beautiful view of the mountains and the barn where Rory was working. She even had her own private entry from outside.
Nicer than any dwelling in her entire life, and even though she enjoyed it, sometimes she felt a bit like an impostor. She didn’t come from wealth and saw herself as an outsider looking in. She wondered if Rory ever felt that way.
Her parents had owned a small catalog store that had thrived for many years, but had eventually gone broke with the upsurge of internet shopping. Abby had started college a few years late as she tried to help them through the hump, but finally her dad had found a job in Colorado Springs and they had moved away. They’d sent small sums to help with her school expenses, then she’d met and eventually married Porter. When she’d had come back here as a new bride, she’d been hired by Joan to look after Joan’s dress boutique, a small business with a select and limited clientele. Everything had seemed perfect.
Until Porter announced he was leaving with Joan. She supposed, in those moments when she was able to find some gratitude, that she was lucky they’d decided to leave town. Joan sold her boutique, Porter found a job as a clerk with a big law firm in Idaho and the two had vanished...after Porter sold his family house in town.
Since his betrayal, she’d been working as a waitress at the truck stop, nursing her wounds, unable to see the possibility of ever getting herself unstuck, emotionally or physically. She’d had to rent a small apartment, all she could afford, and the community college offered no classes beyond the ones she’d already completed. She’d been looking at a bleak future until she saw the ad for this job.
Now she could sock away enough money to go to the state university. If she could hang on long enough.
She wished she hadn’t told Regina how bored she was. She ought to be feeling awfully grateful, boredom aside. Life had given her a stepping stone to a brighter future, even if she no longer knew what she wanted that future to hold.
Sitting with Regina and Rory at dinner tonight had awakened some old dreams. Or maybe they’d been illusions. Illusions of long years with Porter, of children of their own, of happy family gatherings. Of having a family again. Her parents were now so far away she could only afford to drive down to see them once in a great while, and her dad had a heart condition that prevented him from attempting the trip.
So here she sat, stuck in Conard County, with a whole bunch of unhappy memories. All of it her own fault, she supposed.
It had been sweet of Regina to include her in dinner tonight, but she couldn’t expect that to continue. She was an employee, and her employer had been frank about coming here for solitude.
Given that, though, it was kind of surprising how happy he’d been about getting his daughter. She’d have loved to know the story behind that.
She stared at the stack of library books beside her bed, but didn’t feel much like reading. She remembered the computer out in the living room, and in a moment of genuine curiosity about her rooms, she started investigating spaces she hadn’t yet really looked at.
Oh, she’d put away her clothes in the dresser and surveyed the kitchen appliances and utensils, but she hadn’t examined the desk in one corner of her sitting room. It looked like a simple writing desk with one bank of drawers up the side, but she hadn’t needed a desk yet.
Rising, she went over and began to open drawers. The top one, which appeared merely to be a decorative front and had resisted her efforts to pull it open, turned out to have a tip-down front. When she did that, it slid out and revealed yet another laptop. Regina hadn’t been kidding about them being all over the house, like the TVs.
This one was hardwired into a wall connection, but the cord was long enough that she was able to pull it out and set it on top of the desk. The drawer then closed most of the way and she pulled the secretarial chair back in front of it.
This could be cool, she thought. Maybe she’d research those online courses Regina had mentioned, in case she had enough money to take one before long. Maybe she could get a head start on going back for her degree.
Her heart leaped a little at the prospect.
She should have checked this out sooner. But ever since coming here, housekeeper or not, she had felt a little like an interloper and had tried to respect privacy. She didn’t open drawers outside the kitchen. She didn’t poke into closets. Sooner or later she supposed she’d have to or the closets would get dusty. She needed to ask Rory what her limits were.
Just as she was about to turn the laptop on, she heard a quiet knock at her door. It was so unusual that she started. Immediately she wondered if Regina needed help.
Jumping up, she went to answer it and found Rory standing there, the fingers of one hand tucked into his jeans pocket. He stood back a foot in the short hallway, as if to give her space.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said, smiling, “but I wondered if you could give me a few minutes. Out in the living room.”
“Sure,” she answered promptly, oddly relieved that he didn’t want to come in here, although she didn’t know why. Too intimate? That was silly. He owned the place.
Then she got nervous. Had she done something wrong? Was he going to fire her? Other than her one ugly, incautious remark, she couldn’t imagine that she’d done anything terrible.
Of course, not having done anything wrong didn’t mean much, as she had already learned the hard way.
“Want some coffee?” he asked as they passed the kitchen.
“No, thank you.”
“Grab a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
She perched on the edge of one of the heavy, large armchairs. Built solidly of wood with blue cushions, their massiveness helped counter the immense size of the room, as did the two huge couches and the piano in one corner. You could probably play basketball in here, she thought, trying to keep a sense of amusement. She was failing miserably.
He wasn’t long, returning with a mug of coffee. He looked around. “You know, this isn’t exactly a cozy room, is it? We could shout from opposite ends of it.”
Her tension began to ease, and a small laugh escaped her. “Good for entertaining.”
“I didn’t come here to entertain, although I suppose it could happen. This is what happens when you hand a contractor and a decorator a few ideas and cut them loose.” He shook his head. “Kitchen?”
“Please.” Maybe there she wouldn’t feel so tiny and insignificant.
They adjourned to the kitchen table and sat facing each other across it.
“This feels almost human-sized,” he remarked. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her over the top of his mug as he took a sip. She felt the attraction again, the way something about him seemed to draw her. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, although he was, but some other aura that made her feel the stirrings of passion that she had tried to cut out of her life. No wonder Rory McLane was a superstar. Every woman probably felt the same way about him.
She dared to ask, “Did you really just cut them loose?”
“The builder and decorator? Yeah. See, that’s been part of the problem. I’ve been so busy all the time with everything I’ve had to do that I haven’t been writing any decent music of my own, or running any other part of my life. So this is where I get to. A hermitage that could double as a small hotel.” He shook his head a little. “I shouldn’t complain. I’ve been damn lucky.”
“Talented, too,” she suggested.
“Well, lately I’ve been wondering about that. But that’s not what I wanted to talk with you about.”
Anxiety returned, creeping along her nerve endings. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” He appeared startled. “Nothing like that. I just thought it might help you to understand some of what’s happening here. Yes, I know the ground rules I originally set out. You pretty much go your way and I go mine. But now there’s Regina, and a dog, and things got a little more complicated for everyone. The way things are going, there’s probably even going to be a horse or two, some slumber parties, some other parties....” He paused, looking momentarily overwhelmed, then continued. “So I thought you might be more comfortable if you knew some things, rather than spending your time wondering what the heck happened.”
As her anxiety eased, she was able to smile. “You make it sound like an invasion.”
“It probably will be, by the time all’s said and done.” His smile was a little crooked. “Just another way for Stella to get even.”
“Stella?”
“My ex. Regina’s mother. Do you keep up with country music?”
She shook her head, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “No, sorry.”
“No apology needed. Suffice it to say, my ex is a big deal in her own right, only she eats it all up. The only person she saw more than me and her band during our marriage was her hairdresser and her plastic surgeon.”
Abby couldn’t help it. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.
“Exactly,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t sound so critical. Me, I can age gracefully. She’s a woman, and youth and beauty are part of her trade. Sorry comment on society, but that’s the way it is. Anyway, when we split, there was a custody fight and I lost. The judge was sympathetic to the idea that a girl needed her mama more than her dad. I figured I had to wait until Regina was old enough to decide who she wanted to live with, and put up with our long separations.”
“But something happened.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You could say Regina happened. She created more trouble for Stella than a pack of weasels let loose in the house.”
This time Abby let the laugh escape. “She doesn’t strike me that way.”
“Me, neither. Oh, I’m not gonna claim she’s perfect. What kid is? But the constant loss of nannies finally became enough to make Stella forget how mad she was at me.” He shifted, looking down. “I often think the only reason she wanted full custody to begin with was because it was another way to get back at me. Guess I was right. So Stella gave me full custody and I have my daughter back.”
Everything inside Abby softened. “I could tell how happy that made you. I’m glad.”
“Me, too. She’s out of that plastic, over-regimented environment. Stella is all about appearances, and I was afraid she’d make Regina that way, too. Hasn’t happened yet, evidently.”
Abby decided not to address that. After all, today was the first time she’d really spent any time with Regina. She liked the girl, but she didn’t really know her yet.
“Anyway,” he said, “that brings us to the invasion. I’m sorry if it put you out.”
“It hasn’t put me out at all,” Abby said swiftly. She almost squirmed as she remembered her initial reaction and how that must have felt to him. “I’m sorry I blurted that out about not being hired for childcare.”
“Well, it’s true, you weren’t. Don’t worry about it. And I’m not asking you to step up to that plate now. That’s not why we’re talking. I just want you to know the background, because it must have felt like a whirlwind hit.”
“It was a surprise, but not that momentous. I like Regina.”
“If she bugs you too much, let me know.” He leaned forward and put his cup down. “I’m not the world’s best dad. I get lost inside my own head sometimes. Well, I’m trying to. Been a while since I had time to do that. But I’m going to ask you something.”
She waited, trying to look anywhere but right at him. She was afraid he would read her reaction to him all over her face. Appalling to realize she wanted him. A man who could have any woman in the world. A man who saw her as nothing but a housekeeper. Did she have a nose for trouble, or what?
“If she lets you know in any way that she feels I’m neglecting her because I get too absorbed in my composing, will you tell me?”
Abby nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
She thought that would end their conversation, but instead he rose, refilled his mug and returned to the table.
“So what’s your story, Abby?” he asked, his tone surprisingly kind.
