“I can only imagine,” Ashley said dryly. “She convinced you to buy Pop-Tarts.”
“I wasn’t a hard sell.”
“Mr. Ritter has a magic car,” Maggie said between bites of chicken. “A lady spoke to us from the air and everything.”
Jeff pulled out the second chair at the small table and sat down. “I called my assistant from the car. I needed some menu ideas.”
“She was very nice and said hello to me,” Maggie added.
The girl had finished most of her macaroni and cheese, although she wore a good portion of the sauce on her face and hands. Jeff studied the shape of her eyes and her mouth, then glanced at her mother, trying to figure out what traits they shared.
Ashley’s features were slightly more delicate. The eye color was different, as well. Did Maggie’s blue eyes come from her father?
Ashley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, using her left hand. Jeff had already noted that she didn’t wear a ring, but now he looked to see if there were any telltale marks showing one had recently been removed. He didn’t see any tan lines or indentations. A divorce? he wondered. Although having a baby didn’t require a woman to marry, Ashley struck him as the marrying kind. He didn’t think she would have chosen to have a child on her own. Not without a good reason.
“Is there anyone I should phone?” he asked. “A relative out of state, a friend?”
She paused in the act of drinking her juice and carefully put down the glass. “You mean to let them know where I am?”
“Yes.”
A shadow slipped across her eyes and she looked away from him. He could read her mind as clearly as if she spoke her thoughts. The truthful answer was that she was all alone in the world. If there was no one to care about her, then there was no one to worry if she and her daughter disappeared.
He leaned toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ashley.”
She smiled without meeting his gaze. He hated that the fear was back in her eyes. “I know. I wasn’t thinking that at all. You’ve been very good to us.”
“Your parents?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t pry.
“Grandma’s in heaven with Daddy,” Maggie piped up. She’d finished her dinner and was carefully wiping her hands with a napkin.
Ashley a widow? Jeff frowned. She was too young, barely in her mid-twenties. What had happened? A car accident? Murder? Did her husband’s death account for her difficult financial circumstances?
Before he could decide if he could ask any or all of those questions, his cell phone rang. He excused himself and stepped into the hall.
“Ritter,” he said into the instrument.
“It’s Brenda,” his assistant said. “I have been my normal efficient self. Are you ready?”
“Just a second.” He pulled a notebook and a pen from his suit pocket and started walking toward his study downstairs. “Go ahead.”
“I’ve found a sitter for Maggie tomorrow afternoon. It’s one of her teachers from the preschool. So not only is the woman qualified and trustworthy, but Maggie already knows and likes her. Next, I have Ashley’s schedule of classes in front of me. She has two tomorrow. They’re advanced classes and don’t have Internet lecture notes so I’ve been in touch with an off-campus service that specializes in taking notes. They will attend both lectures for her and provide me with typed notes by two tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’m impressed,” he said, sliding behind his desk and settling on his leather chair. “How’d you find her class schedule?”
Brenda chuckled. “I was about to get all high-tech and then I remembered she works here. Her Social Security number is on the job application in her personnel file. After that, it was easy. After all, I’ve learned from the best.”
“Do you mean me or Zane?”
“I refuse to answer that,” she said, her voice teasing. “I’ll drop by about seven tomorrow morning to help get the little one ready.”
“Do you think that’s necessary? She seems fairly self-sufficient.” After all, she’d talked him into getting just about everything she wanted at the grocery store.
“Do you really want to deal with getting a four-year-old girl ready for school? I’m talking about picking out clothes and doing her hair.”
He hadn’t thought that part through. “I guess not. Seven sounds fine. I appreciate this, Brenda.”
“I know. I just wish you’d let me go into the field. I’d be great.”
