It occurred to him at that point that, first, he probably should have called (who knew if she was even home), and then, as he came up and around the bend that opened into a large, flat parking area, that there was the same dark blue Mercedes that’d been there yesterday. So she was probably athome.
A figure moved inside the kitchen—Leslie—and he went directly to the door. He was just about to raise his hand to knock when shescreamed.
He didn’t really think; he just lunged for the door and yanked on it. It swung open just as she came toward him, her hand over her chest as if she was attempting to prevent a heartattack.
“Oh my God, you scared thecrapout of me!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “All of a sudden you were there—why didn’t you come to the frontdoor?”
“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I saw you here, and— Well, I was about to knock. I wasn’t just lookingin.”
“Right. It’s all right. Come in.” She was wearing gloves and had her shiny black hair hanging loose. But this time, she wasn’t coated with dust, and she was wearing a snug t-shirt and bottoms that Declan had recently learned were called yoga pants. And, he noticed via his natural sweep of a glance, her feet were bare and decorated with grape-colored toenails. “It’s just so dark and lonely up here, and something fell down in the front room, so it made a loud noise that startled me—and then I looked up and there was a face in mywindow.”
Leslie laughed, and Declan got the impression she was more than happy he was there to defuse whatever had given her the willies a momentago.
“I should have called,” he said, looking around thekitchen.
It was his first good look at it; he’d had a glimpse yesterday when he was looking around for Leslie. He was impressed by the size and homeyness of the place. Clearly, it had been recently remodeled, for the appliances were sleek and modern, and the island in the center was covered with a thick slab of bronze and black granite, and yet the overall feel of the space was warm andinviting.
“Well, calling’s generally a good idea. I might not even have been home—I wasn’t all last night. In fact, I’m supposed to meet Aunt Cherry for dinner in a bit,” she said as she glanced at the wall clock above the stove. “But I’ve got time. Have aseat.”
Declan obeyed, selecting one of the mismatched (purposely, he suspected) chairs at the battered wooden table. It was thick and solid, and probably over a hundred years old—an eclectic touch in a granite and stainless steel kitchen. The scars gave the table character, and the vase of fresh flowers and dried autumn cuttings sitting in the center of it let him know Leslie might be in the middle of a renovation, but she was still enjoying her new home. On the table was yesterday’s localnewspaper.
“You’re on the front page,” he said, picking it up. The large photo just above the fold was of Leslie—without the ball cap and looking almost CEOish—standing in front of the dismantled stairway. She was holding swatches of fabric and an antique lightfixture.
“Yes, you just missed being in the photo yourself,” she said. “They did a nice job on thearticle.”
“I guess you’re used to dealing with the press.” He set the paperdown.
She smiled slightly. “A hometown lifestyle reporter is a lot easier on the nerves than a room full of AP journalists, I’ll admit. Especially ones from the financial papers. They’d wait to catch us after the board meetings, and it could really be brutal—especially as we got closer to the public offering. Give me a hometown newspaper over theWall Street Journalanyday.”
Yes, they certainly came from different worlds. Declan’s mood soured a trifle. Boardrooms, press conferences, executive meetings, private jets…Leslie Nakano was way out of her league here in touristy little Wicks Hollow, hiring teenaged girls and flannel-garbed blacksmiths to do her bidding. He wondered how long she’d last before she got bored and decided to head back to her uptight lawyer in Philadelphia. G. Eric Yarborough. TheFourth.
“So, did you need to see something in the foyer?” Leslie said, jolting him out of his thoughts. Her unspoken question was,What are you doinghere?
“Uh…no. I’m here for a differentreason.”
Leslie lifted one eyebrow, and he recognized wariness filtering into her expression. Her body language shifted: she eased back a little, and her eyes narrowed with subtlesuspicion.
What, did she think he was going to attack her orsomething?
Although…he was here, showing up without calling, well past business hours. He supposed he could cut her a break. A very tinyone.
“I understand you’ve hired my daughter. I’d like to know exactly what you’re planning to have her do, and I have to tell you, I’m not very happy about the situation. I’m her father—she’s a minor—and I didn’t know anything aboutit.”
Her reaction was one of pure bewilderment and astonishment. “Excuse me, but I have no idea what you’re referring to.” The CEO hadspoken.
“Stephanie Lillard is my daughter. You hired her, didn’tyou?”
“Oh!” Leslie’s eyes widened and comprehension washed over her face. “She’s your daughter? I had no idea— She didn’t— You obviously have different last names. And I did speak to her…mother.” Her voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, as if she realized things might not be as simple as she’d thought. “I’m guessing there’s a divorce situation or something going on here, and that’s why you weren’taware.”
Declan controlled his irritation—now more with Stephanie and her mother and less with the woman in front of him—and replied. “Something like that. Steph’s mother lives in New Hampshire, and I’m the parenthere. SoIshould have been the one involved in this from thebeginning.”
“I can understand your frustration; had I known, I certainly would have spoken with you yesterday. Stephanie simply didn’t mention that you were herfather.”
“Obviously.” Declan couldn’t control a grimace, nor could he ignore a little twinge that stabbed him in the belly. A guy moves halfway across the country to live with his daughter so she doesn’t have to change schools, and she can’t even remember to keep him in the loop. For having been a father barely six months, it sure as hell hurt more than he’d thought itwould.
“I’m really sorry. And clearly you have questions about the situation—which I’m happy to answer. She is, I realize, quite young. But I was very impressed with her and I wanted to give her the chance to try it out.” Leslie rose from the table. “Would you like something to drink while we talk? Coffee, wine, soda? I might even have a beer. Oh, and I have some tea Orbra gave me as well. Her special autumn blend. She’s going to be sampling it at the game tomorrownight.”
“Just water. Thanks.” Declan was having a bit of a time trying to release the prick of hurt that still lodged beneath his heart. But it wasn’t Leslie Nakano’s fault, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything to Steph aboutit.
