“Never mind,” he said gruffly. “We’re having to adjust to being back in Washington. I just didn’t expect it to be this hard.” He looked away at the lake, not wanting to see sympathy in Rachel’s eyes. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He wasn’t any different from other parents who were worried about their kids and the future.
“What about joining a support group for single fathers?” she asked in the silence. “It might help to hear how someone else is handling various parenting questions.”
A support group?
Simon shuddered. Not a chance. If he’d struggled to confide in Olivia, he couldn’t imagine discussing anything with strangers. The same with a grief counselor. Gemma had suggested one not long after Olivia’s death, but he didn’t need anyone explaining the “stages” of grief and advising him how to deal with them.
“I appreciate the suggestion,” he muttered, “but I’m managing. The question of Christmas trees is on my mind because Thanksgiving comes early this year, which means the tree will be up for a longer time than usual. Dousing it with fire retardant is an option, but I also dislike bringing chemicals into the house.”
Rachel nodded. “At least we have the overhead fire sprinkler system at the Carthage. I thought it might seem too industrial, like a hotel room, then discovered it gave me peace of mind.”
Simon was glad to have the discussion shift to something less personal. “I feel the same way. The Carthage is a solid building. Old, but retrofitted to the highest standards. I had it checked out before buying our condo.”
“Me, too. And I love this little town, though I’d prefer to be even farther out of the urban area, maybe up in Enumclaw or Buckley.”
He cocked his head. “Then why did you choose the Carthage?”
“I just thought it would be easier with my... With everything. And the commute is better this way.”
Her hesitation made Simon wonder what “everything” might be, but he didn’t want to pry. They reached the lake and he tried not to envy Rachel’s travel mug of coffee. It was his own fault for walking away from the barista waiting for his order.
Her eyes suddenly twinkled and she held out the mug. “I have a feeling you need this more than I do. Besides, I try not to drink coffee more than two or three days in a row before taking a few off. This is my fourth day, but I went to the Java Train Shop this morning without thinking.”
“I couldn’t,” he protested.
“Of course you can. You aren’t in danger of getting cooties from me...if that’s your concern. I haven’t drunk any, and the cup was clean.” Humor danced across her face.
Cooties?
He hadn’t heard that expression since he was a kid and had nothing worse to worry about than imaginary germs.
“I’m not five years old, so I don’t think cooties are an issue,” he returned with a grin.
Rachel had gone from outraged indignation to sympathy to poking fun at him in just a few minutes. It was reassuring that she didn’t seem to hold grudges. Wasn’t that what friendship should look like?
“But you’re probably right about it being healthy to limit caffeine intake,” he added.
“In that case, I’ll just pour this out.”
Simon grabbed for the cup as she began unscrewing the lid. “That’s all right. It would be a shame to waste good espresso.”
Her laugh sent warmth coursing through his bloodstream. The sound was musical and he suddenly recalled an Irish folktale his mother had once told him. It had been about a fairy caught in the human world, her memory of fairyland gone. Then a simple soul came along with no better sense than to fall for her.
Shaking the memory away, Simon gulped the coffee down. He usually drank his black instead of with cream, but it was strong, unsweetened and tasted great.
“Is the Seattle area very different from New York?” Rachel asked after a quiet minute. The silence had been curiously companionable. Even restful. “I’ve visited New York many times, but never stayed long enough to have a real sense of the city.”
He shrugged. “I prefer the weather here, but I needed to get away. We came back because it was what Livvie wanted. I bought a new place because I couldn’t see moving into our old house. This one is better, anyhow—close to the lake and with more square footage.”
“You have a nice outdoor garden for her.”
“She likes it.”
They’d turned and were making their way back to the Carthage. Ahead he saw Livvie and Gemma heading their direction.
“Daddy,” Livvie cried, racing forward.
Simon pulled her close. An hour earlier they’d passed in the hallway by her bedroom and she’d given him an enthusiastic, if sleepy, good-morning kiss. It always melted his heart to know she was so happy to see him.
“Hi, Rachel.” Livvie twisted in his arms to lean over and smacked Rachel’s cheek. She smiled warmly in return.
“It’s nice to see you, Livvie.” Rachel snagged her mug from his hands. “I’d better take this, you’ve got an armful.”
“Daddy, did you and Rachel eat breakfast together?” Livvie asked.
“No, we ran into each other at the coffee shop.”
“Oh. Gemma made Mickey Mouse pancakes and they were really good. She made enough for you, too, but now they’re cold.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Rachel and I forgot the time. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“It’s an in-service training day for the teachers,” Gemma explained.
“That’s right, I forgot. Go ahead on your walk. I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get moving.”
“Okay.” Livvie hugged him hard again, and he set her down. “Bye, Rachel. Bye, Daddy.”
Gemma took her hand and they continued toward the lake. He should have remembered it wasn’t a school day for Livvie and arranged something special to do with her. Ironic. He’d protested that his life didn’t need any fixing, but in all honesty, he did have broken areas, including tunnel vision about his work responsibilities. The last thing he wanted was to inflict them on his daughter. Making time for her was important.
“Is something bothering you?” Rachel asked.
“I was just thinking that I should have planned a treat for Livvie, such as a trip to the Seattle Center with just the two of us. But I’ve got meetings scheduled and didn’t think ahead.”
“You could still take her to a big-girl lunch. Surely it wouldn’t take too much time.”
“That’s a good idea.” He shook his head. “So, earlier you were saying that everyone needs some sort of fixing?”
Rachel chuckled. “Sure. No family is completely functional, no job is perfect and Elvis isn’t coming back in the near future.”
Simon decided to play along and let go of his darker mood.
“What if you’re wrong about Elvis?”
“Then I’ll dust off my blue suede shoes and buy a ticket to his first concert. In the meantime, I have a new client who is a bona fide Elvis impersonator. He sounds just like the King and blends music with humor. I’ve already got a booking for him—four weeks, five nights a week. He starts tomorrow.”
It wasn’t the sort of thing Simon normally enjoyed, yet he was intrigued. “Maybe I should see his act. Where is he performing?”
“At a comedy club in downtown Seattle. I’m going to his first show tomorrow night. If you’d like, we can attend together and talk about Liv’ing Creations. That way I’ll have today and tomorrow to finish organizing my thoughts. Still no promises, though.”
“That’s fine. When do you want to leave?”
“How about meeting me at seven thirty, in the garage by my car? I drive a silver Toyota Camry.”
Simon suspected Rachel was the type to arrive early and wait for him. There wasn’t much crime around the Carthage, but he still didn’t like the idea. “Maybe it will be better if I com
e by your place.”
“If you prefer.”
* * *
GEMMA HAD BEEN surprised to see Rachel and her boss together. Was it possible they were getting involved? It seemed unlikely. Rachel was very different from Olivia Kessler. Besides, Mr. Kessler didn’t want to get married again. He’d talked about it one night, soon after they’d moved to New York. She’d stayed up late to read, then gone into the living room of the apartment to find him staring into a half-full brandy snifter.
As far as Gemma knew, it was the first and last time he’d consumed enough alcohol to become even slightly intoxicated.
“This isn’t much of a painkiller,” he’d told her, rolling the amber liquid around in the snifter. “It hasn’t changed a thing except cause a headache.”
At first Gemma had been alarmed, remembering the times her dad had got drunk and angry and loud. Then Mr. Kessler had gone to the kitchen sink and emptied the snifter and bottle.
“My daughter deserves better than having me like this,” he’d said. “It’s just that Livvie’s private tutor told me today, oh, so delicately, that I might consider getting remarried. Nobody can keep their noses out of my business, but I don’t want another wife, and the busybodies of the world may as well get used to it.”
If he’d been her brother, Gemma might have hugged him, but that wouldn’t have been right to do with her employer, so she sat down and listened to him talk about Olivia. After that he’d gone to work in his home office, while she’d returned to her book. Nothing like that had happened since then.
She and Livvie walked by the lake and played with her motorboat before going back to the condo. Mr. Kessler had left for work, but there was an envelope on the door addressed to Miss Livvie Kessler. Inside was a letter.
My beautiful daughter,
Would you do me the honor of being my guest at lunch today? I can pick you up at noon.
Daddy
“Ooooooh,” Livvie cried. “I want to get all dressed up.”
“Of course,” Gemma agreed. “Let’s go choose something right now. One of your really special dresses.”
Gemma loved her job, especially at moments like this, when she saw a father acting the way she’d dreamed her own father would act someday. Her dad loved his family, but his affection was usually drowned by alcohol. And no matter what, her mother just made excuses.
A sigh welled up from Gemma.
If she ever met the right guy and got married, she didn’t want someone with big problems or someone who was fighting personal demons, who might try to find a solution through booze. She wanted a man who was decent and kind, who’d put their marriage and family first.
Surely that wasn’t asking too much.
* * *
RACHEL FOCUSED ON her computer, typing and organizing her notes about Liv’ing Creations. She entered the list of designers that she and Nicole had come up with, thinking a casual comedy club might be the best place to talk with Simon. An office seemed a sterile environment for something as creative as a design house.
Funny, she’d almost decided against accepting Liv’ing Creations as a client, especially after the way Simon had annoyed her at the Java Train Shop. Honestly, his ego was enormous. But then he’d revealed an aching vulnerability. Angst over the safety of a Christmas tree versus his daughter’s memory of her mother? It was endearing. As for the way he worried about his daughter getting stuck in the past? She could have cried.
Simon Kessler was a complicated man, with edges as sharp as carbon steel knives, alternating with soft spots that could seduce a woman into thinking those edges weren’t that dangerous.
“Rachel?” Adam’s voice said, breaking into her thoughts.
She looked toward the door. “Hi, Adam. Is something up?”
“Sort of. I’ve been meaning to ask if you’d be interested in representing Tiffany and Glen Bryant? The twins are easy to work with and I’d transfer all agency residuals to your account.”
Rachel hadn’t expected the request. His fiancée was the twins’ guardian and Adam might not have met Cassie if her niece and nephew hadn’t become his clients.
“You don’t want to continue as their agent?”
“Their careers are booming, but it might be best for someone else to take over since I’m no longer impartial. Better for the agency, too. Cassie is fine with me continuing, but I’d prefer just taking care of them as my family.”
It was understandable that he wanted to simplify the relationships with his family-to-be and Moonlight Ventures. Things were already convoluted because his fiancée had designed the agency’s website.
“In that case, I’d be happy to represent Tiff and Glen,” Rachel assured him. “How is the house hunting going?”
“We’re looking for a place outside the city that won’t be a huge commute. For me, that is. Cassie runs her business from home.”
Rachel grinned. “I can’t imagine you living in a small town. You were the one who couldn’t wait to get a place in the heart of Seattle, while Nicole and I wanted something less urban.”
Adam grinned sheepishly. “It’s a compromise since Cassie used to dream of living in the mountains. Anyhow, this way we’ll have the advantages of small-town life and still be able to enjoy what Seattle has to offer.”
They chatted another few minutes, and then he left to meet with a prospective client. Rachel opened the agency files on Glen and Tiffany Bryant to study their profiles and the jobs they’d got to date. They were going to be busy since the TV pilot they’d appeared in had been picked up as a midseason replacement series.
After a while she sat back, unable to stop picturing the happiness in Adam’s face. She was really pleased everything was going so well for him. He didn’t seem anxious about becoming an instant father figure for Cassie’s niece and nephew, though it couldn’t be easy with teenagers.
Instant parenthood would probably be simpler with a child Livvie’s age.
Rachel bolted upright. No way. She didn’t have any business with idle musings about Livvie, because they might lead to musings about Simon.
He was a potential client, and that was all.
* * *
THE NEXT EVENING Rachel was ready to leave immediately when Simon knocked at her door. Fortunately, the club wasn’t that far away and they got a table toward the back.
The show started and went on for nearly thirty minutes.
“I’m impressed,” Simon said after the last song. “He’s funny and looks and sounds the part. Why didn’t he want to do a strict Elvis impersonation, without the comedy routine?”
“Elvis impersonators are relatively common, so Nelson decided to mix it up with humor.” Rachel handed Simon a sheaf of papers. “Here are the notes I’ve made about Liv’ing Creations. Why don’t you take a look while I say hello to my client?”
Standing, she made her way toward a curtained door, though she couldn’t resist a backward glance to see Simon reading the notes, his brow furrowed in concentration.
She’d already noticed a couple of women gazing at him appreciatively, and now one of them leaned toward him and said something. Simon’s response must have been chilly, because her bright smile vanished and she turned back to her two female companions.
With a sigh, Rachel continued to the backstage area and found Nelson in his dressing room.
“Great job,” she said.
“It was awesome,” he declared. “I didn’t realize a comedy club would be okay with me singing, too, so it never occurred to me to audition at one. That’s what getting an agent does for you. Do you think I might get a gig in Las Vegas someday?”
“Time will tell,” Rachel returned lightly.
She couldn’t make promises, particularly with such a specialized performer. Nelson had one interest and one interest only, the King. “In the meantime, I’ll leave so you can focus on your next show,” she a
dded.
“Okay. Thanks.”
Back at the table, Rachel found Simon with a steaming cup of black coffee.
“Do you expect to sleep tonight?” she asked, gesturing to the cup.
“Probably not, but I didn’t want to order a beer or wine. Or a soft drink.”
The server approached again and Rachel told him she’d have a mineral water with a twist of lime. Unlike Simon, she hoped to get some rest that night, and even decaf coffee had a fair amount of caffeine.
“Your notes are excellent,” Simon said when they were alone again. “So, are you interested in becoming a consultant for Liv’ing Creations?”
Rachel had halfway hoped that he’d look at her material and decide he didn’t needed her services, or that they’d be enough to nudge him in the direction he wanted to go. Part of her wanted to accept the project; part of her believed it wisest to stay away from him.
But she threw back her shoulders and nodded. “I think it would be interesting.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
RACHEL HAD ENDLESS second thoughts about working with Simon that kept her from sleeping well for the next two nights. Through the years she’d met people from all walks of life, but she’d never met anyone like Simon Kessler. How could she deal with someone who could twist her emotions so easily?
Sunday morning dawned blustery and cold, the kind of exhilarating autumn day she’d missed when living in Los Angeles. She yawned, hoping the storm wouldn’t blow too many of the fall leaves from the trees. It was before the full peak of autumn color, so maybe she’d still be able to head over to the University of Washington. She loved wandering around the campus when the fall colors were in full display, scuffing through the leaves on the ground and enjoying the mix of old and new architecture.
Reading in front of the fire was appealing, so she curled up on the couch and was soon lost in a nonfiction book about the Italian Renaissance.
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