Best Laid Plans (14 page)

She laughed. “Yes, but with Daisy the goal is to make her stop.” Richard couldn’t understand how intimidating a twelve-pound person could be when she was solely dependent on you for her survival. “Jake is a real genius at that, I don’t know how he …”

“You don’t want to spend the whole evening talking about Macintyre … Jake, do you?”

“No, of course not.” She didn’t want to spend it
thinking
about him, either, but that was proving to be more difficult than she’d expected.

He gave her hand a squeeze and removed his, finally. She felt a film of sweat where it had been resting, and realized Richard, self-possessed and confident in every situation, was nervous. Because of her. It was very sweet and flattering, and she resolved to be kind to him.

For the next few hours, she focused on Richard as she would on the subject of an interview, forcing her mind away from maddening thoughts of Jake whenever they intruded. Richard was at his charming best, the food and wine were delicious, and at the end of the evening she had to admit she’d had a good time.

“We should do this every week,” he said as she slipped her key into the lock.

She considered inviting him inside, could almost feel his longing to spend more time with her, but she knew Jake would be up. Still, she didn’t want him to lose hope entirely.

“It was a lovely evening.” She took a step toward him, which surprised him so much he lost his balance and might have fallen off the step if she hadn’t grabbed his elbow.

“Oh!” He leaned forward, drew her gently against his chest, and pressed his lips against hers.

Like the rest of the evening, it was better than she expected it to be. They’d been coworkers and friends for so long, she was afraid it would be like kissing her brother. But it was nice, even though sparks didn’t fly like when she kissed …

“Jake,” Richard said as he removed his lips from hers.

She pulled back, confused. “Excuse me?”

“He turned on the porch light. What a jerk.”

Once again she was reminded of prom night, and had to laugh.

“Violet, it isn’t funny. The man is impertinent.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed that when Richard was angry, the timbre of his voice changed from well-modulated to prissy. Not an attractive trait in a man.

“Well, I can’t fire him, but he won’t be around forever.” She turned the key. “Goodnight, Richard.”

• • •

Jake was annoyed when he pulled up to the portico of the hotel on the outskirts of the city where he’d left Carrie the previous day and didn’t see her waiting. It would be better for both of them, he’d told her, if he could make a quick in and out. But a downpour had begun on his way there, perfectly suited to his foul mood, and he couldn’t blame her for staying dry in the lobby.

So he was startled when his rear passenger-side door opened. The woman he’d seen huddled under a black umbrella was in fact Carrie, with her long blonde hair wrapped in a scarf and her blue eyes hidden by sunglasses, despite the rain. She threw her suitcase and wet umbrella in the backseat before climbing in the front with him, her head on a swivel the whole time.

He had to laugh in spite of his impatience. “Welcome to the Witness Protection Program. What should I call you now?”

She didn’t smile or even remove the sunglasses as he pulled away from the building. A glimpse at the bruises on her forearm and her chewed-up fingernails reminded him this was deadly serious to her. He’d been annoyed at having to cut his afternoon with Violet and Daisy short yesterday, when Carrie called and told him in a whispery voice he could hardly hear that her boyfriend had fallen asleep after making drunken threats. She believed she was in serious danger if she didn’t get out of the apartment immediately. Based on his memories of Ellsworth and his mother, he’d had to agree.

Although he would have had time to take her all the way to Wickham, and Uncle Matt would probably not have minded her arriving a day early, he’d been so excited about his photo session with Violet and Daisy he couldn’t wait to develop the pictures. As soon as he’d assessed Carrie’s injuries and determined she didn’t need medical attention, he dropped her at a hotel far enough from her boyfriend to give her an illusion of safety, then hurried back to the city and his friend’s darkroom. A bad decision, as it turned out.

The pictures were even more spectacular than he’d hoped, and he stopped thinking about time as he worked with them. When he got back to Violet’s, a few minutes late, he was so jazzed up he jostled Daisy and ended up with regurgitated formula all over him. Which led to Violet’s discovery of the hotel receipt.

Of course he knew what she thought, and the way she’d sneered at him made her opinion of men who checked into hotel rooms in the middle of the day all too clear. But if he told her he was helping Carrie, the consequences would be far worse. She wasn’t going to banish him from Daisy’s life for having sleazy sex, not if he was discreet, but if she knew he’d even spoken to the former nanny, she’d take him to court. He could even lose the right to see his daughter.

Helping this woman, who was nothing to him, wasn’t worth the risk. He glanced over at Carrie, who had finally taken off the glasses. Tears slid from her eyes.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

Mentally, he agreed. “If I hadn’t, you would have had to go to a shelter, that’s all.”

She shook her head. “Joe knows about those places. He’d have found me.”

“I don’t see how he can find you at my Uncle Matt’s.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put a finger in her mouth, even though she had no nails left to bite.

“What if your uncle doesn’t like me?” Her voice, as usual, was nearly a whisper.

He smiled, knowing his uncle had never met a woman as pretty as Carrie and not liked her. In the close proximity of the car, he noticed fine lines around her eyes for the first time and realized she was not as young as he’d first thought. Well within Matt’s age range for women, which was wide. He’d have to remind him she was there to work for him, and anything else would be inappropriate.

“Just do your job, and you won’t have to worry about a thing,” he told her. Except for what she was going to do when Matt was well enough to go back to work. But with any luck, he’d be in Peru by then and his uncle could take over as her knight in shining armor.

Matt, however, was lacking not only in chivalry when he greeted Carrie forty minutes later, but in normal good manners.

“You’re the babysitter? A fine day it is when these whippersnapper boys think I need a caretaker.” He ignored Carrie’s outstretched hand and swiveled the wheelchair so his back was to her. Jake was relieved to see his skill at maneuvering the thing had improved, at least.

“Whippersnapper? Carrie, believe it or not, my uncle is, what? Forty-eight?”

“Forty-
seven
.”

“He must be watching too many episodes of
Little House on the Prairie
.” She marched over to the television and hit the power button. “First thing we need to do is find the Wickham library.” She surveyed the wreckage of the room with her hands on her hips.

Jake, already confused by his uncle’s cold reception to an attractive woman, was newly amazed by Carrie’s assertiveness. The further they got from Boston, he realized, the less she had seemed like a frightened, cowering victim.

He scrutinized her for the first time, and saw what his uncle did. A woman of medium height and indeterminate age, wearing baggy jeans and an oversized black football jersey. The three-quarter sleeves concealed most, but not all, of her bruises. Although he knew Carrie was slender, her outfit was hiding her more-than-adequate curves, and the blonde hair, usually his uncle’s weakness, was completely covered. Well, he had a surprise in store, unless she was planning to make this outfit her work uniform.

She began to pick up the empty beer cans and food containers strewn about the room, and when she passed close to Matt’s wheelchair he reached out and took her wrist. Although she flinched, Jake knew his uncle’s touch had been firm but gentle.

“You seem like a smart girl. Maybe a little bossy. So tell me, why would you let some … jerk do this to you?”

Carrie didn’t need to follow Matt’s gaze to the bruised on her arm to know what he was talking about. She stared him straight in the eye and answered in the strong voice that was still a wonder to Jake.

“You can’t understand, a man like you. I just met you, but already I know you say what you think. Joe was a real charmer at first, he treated me better than any man before him. After he had me hooked, he showed himself for what he really is. Evil.”

After a moment, Matt released her wrist. She continued to stare him down. “You’re right. I can’t understand a man like that. But you’ll be safe here, I promise.”

She shook her head. “You can’t make that promise. But if you can give me a job, and some distance from … him, that will be enough.”

He nodded, and she turned and headed for the kitchen with the trash in her arms. “Here, let me help you.” He did a quick turn with the chair and followed her, glancing back over his shoulder once.

“Jake, what are you still doing here?”

Violet told herself what Jake did during his private time was none of her business, but she blushed and found herself unable to speak to him on Sunday morning when they met in the kitchen. What if he tried to explain? But she didn’t have to worry. He told her he had a lot of work to catch up on, and asked if she’d mind getting up with Daisy for the rest of the week. After she’d stormed into the nursery and insisted on it the first day, she couldn’t very well refuse, although she had to double her caffeine consumption to stay awake through the late news.

For the next week their paths crossed only when they came and left the house, and their only conversation was about Daisy. That was just fine with her.

Then, on Saturday morning, she woke with the sun higher than normal and knew Jake must have gotten up with the baby. The nursery was empty, so she followed the smell of cinnamon down to the kitchen.

He was whisking eggs in a bowl, and a pan of cinnamon buns was cooling on the counter. Daisy was in her infant seat, a film of dried rice cereal around her mouth. When she saw her mother, the rattle she was holding went flying and her arms waved with frantic longing.

“Good morning, cutie.” She undid Daisy’s safety strap and lifted her up, kissing her plump, sticky cheeks. “Baking is one of your many talents, I see.”

Jake turned and smiled. “I figure the first part of that sentence was directed to Daisy, and the second part to me. Although the first part could have been meant for either of us. The recipe came from your only cookbook, which was apparently unused until today.”

“A gift from my mother, who thinks all women should know how to cook. In theory, I agree.” Bacon sizzled in the frying pan. “You’re eating meat?”

He shrugged. “I saw it in the refrigerator, and I didn’t want you to risk the dangers of meat consumption alone.”

He poured coffee into her favorite mug, added milk and sugar the way she liked it, and set it on the table. There was a package on her placemat wrapped in familiar gift wrap. After a moment she recognized it as the paper she’d used for Seth and Jenna’s anniversary gift.

“Is the paper a coincidence, or have you discovered where I keep my gift wrap supplies, too?”

“Everyone keeps their gift wrap in the hall closet.” Jake removed the pan from the flame and reached for Daisy so her hands would be free. “Open it.”

Violet sipped her coffee, stalling. Although she was the world’s most extravagant giver of gifts, she hated to receive them. Seth theorized it was because of Monty. His gifts were always over-the-top, but never the thing they wanted when they wanted it. A foreign doll for Violet dressed in an authentic wedding costume when she wanted a Barbie like all the other girls; a set of drums for Seth when he wanted skis. Afterwards, when her father was gone again, she secretly believed it was because she hadn’t been grateful enough for his gifts. She swore that next time, she would love whatever he brought her, or at least convince him that she did.

When she confessed this to her mother after Monty’s funeral, she shook her head and put her arms around her. “He never even noticed whether you liked the gift or not. It wasn’t about you.”

“Will you just open the thing? Our eggs are getting cold.” Although he acted like it wasn’t a big deal, she was enough of an actress herself to see what he was trying to hide. Whether or not she liked the gift was important to Jake.

She flipped it over so she could slide her fingers under the taped edge, revealing the back of a picture frame. Now that she knew what it was, she was excited, and relieved. Turning it over revealed a black and white image of her and Daisy, gazing into each other’s eyes with delighted smiles.

“Oh! It’s beautiful.” Somehow he had captured visually the intimate connection she had with her baby. “Every day I think about how precious this time with her is, and how fleeting. But I’ll always have this one moment. Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Those aren’t tears, are they?”

Laughing and crying at once, she blotted her eyes with a paper napkin. “I know the first time was an accident, but you’ve given me the two best gifts of my life.”

• • •

Although the door to Violet’s spacious dressing room at the television studio was half open, Seth knocked on it before sticking his head in. He had business in the city on Monday, and had decided to fly in on Friday night and spend the weekend with her and Daisy.

She rose from the vanity chair and gave him a big hug. “You didn’t have to meet me here, you know, you could have gone to the house. You’re probably exhausted from traveling all day.”

“And let your child’s psycho father yank me around by the front of my shirt? No thanks. Besides, being tired will help me get to sleep at a decent East coast hour tonight. I brought dinner.” He held up a bag from the deli on the first floor of her building. “Clam chowder and lobster rolls.”

Violet took the bag and sat down on the plush sofa, spreading the food out on the coffee table while Seth removed his jacket and draped it over the vanity chair. He whistled and picked up a smaller reproduction of the picture Jake had given her two weeks ago.