“Don't thank me—thank your washer. And my brother-in-law.” Abby stretched back up and tried again to slide the bowl onto the shelf. Against his better judgment, Mitch stepped forward to help—and told himself he absolutely didn't notice her warmth and nearness as he stretched his arm up over her.
Or the faint scent of strawberries that accompanied said warmth and nearness.
He put the bowl in place and stepped back, then focused on her mention of the washer. He cleared his throat. “I'll call the repair place on Monday. Any preference for day or time?”
“Yesterday?” she suggested wryly. She shook the blond curls she'd taken to leaving down. “Not really, as long as it's not when I'm taking the girls to school or picking them up.”
Mitch frowned. “Girls, plural? Has Jessica canceled on you?”
“Not at all.”
Well, that was informative. He raised an eyebrow. “So... why?”
“I just think it's best that way. It will give me a chance to chat with Rachel a bit more. She's always tied up with homework after school.”
Mitch would have bet his last dollar that there was more to it than Abby's explanation, but she'd gone back to wiping counters and didn't seem inclined to continue. And frankly, he'd be happier not owing Jessica Perkins any more favors than he already did, because he was pretty sure she had every intention of trying to collect someday. Still, he felt he should at least put in a token objection.
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the island counter. “You sure you want to take on something extra like that? You're already putting in longer hours than I have a right to ask, and now with the Kiana stuff—”
“You didn't ask. I offered. And I'd much rather be busy than trying to invent things to do.” She wrung out the dishcloth and hung it over the faucet, then pulled the plug from the sink. The water disappeared in a gurgle and slurp down the drain. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she looked askance at him. “Was there something else you wanted?”
Nothing I should even be thinking about, never mind asking for.
The thought slipped unbidden into Mitch's mind, and for the first time in a long time, he had reason to be profoundly grateful that his skin hid color changes, because otherwise, he'd be glowing neon red right about now. “Ah,” he stammered, desperately searching for something to say. “Rachel,” he croaked. “How are things with Rachel going?”
Abigail gave him a half smile. “Better since this afternoon. I think we may have reached a turning point.”
“Oh?”
“She didn't tell you?”
“Only about the tobogganing.”
“My brother-in-law is Gareth Connor.”
For a second, Mitch couldn't place the name. Then he stared at her. Then he gaped. “The Gareth Connor? The actor Gareth Connor?”
A corner of her mouth twitched. “The same,” she agreed.
He had no idea how he held back the well, shit that hovered on the tip of his tongue as his esteem for one of Hollywood's finest took a serious tumble. His gaze traveled the pristine kitchen. The guy must be worth millions, and he let his sister-in-law wash dishes and clean up after someone's kids instead of helping her out?
“I see,” he said, for want of something more scintillating. “That will definitely move you up in her estimation.”
Abby regarded him. “I wouldn't take it,” she said.
“Take what?”
“Gareth's money. He offered to set me up in a place of my own when I came to Ottawa and to help me get on my feet. I refused. It's time I learned to... I want to stand on my own feet.”
Once again, Mitch suspected the words she left unspoken would have filled an entire book. And once again, he decided it wasn't his business to pry, especially when she'd asked him not to.
“Fair enough,” he said, and then he returned to safer territory. “So, things are better with Rachel. How about with Kiana? We haven't had much time to talk this week...” He trailed off, unable to complete the lie he'd rehearsed about having dropped the evening tea routine that he'd barely begun because of workload—and loath to admit he'd dropped it because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about that encounter in his office.
“It's all right,” Abby said. “I know you've been busy.”
Was she deliberately keeping her voice neutral, or was that just his guilt talking? Either way, he needed to do better. Needed to remember he was an adult sharing his home with another adult—who happened to be his employee, no less—and not some crass college kid who hadn't been out on a date for too long.
Not that he was thinking in terms of dating Abby.
Or anyone.
Because no. Just...
Freaking hell.
He jerked his attention back to Abby, who had rested a hand on the counter on either side of herself and continued talking.
“... good,” she said. “I've been reading up on trisomy X, and I've made a list of questions up that might help when you take her to the pediatrician appointment.”
“Pedia—” Mitch fought to keep his gaze away from the intriguing swells beneath Abby's sweater. For God's sake, Abrams, get with the agenda. “Right. You left a note on my desk.”
“With an appointment time that you put on your calendar?” she encouraged.
“With an appointment I'm going to put on my calendar the second I go back to my office,” Mitch agreed. Damn, but he liked the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she tried not to smile. “Anything else I should know about?”
“I don't think—oh, wait. There is something. Brittany's teacher sent home a note yesterday saying she's having trouble seeing the board and suggesting she have her eyes checked. If you can give me the other girls' medical information, I can make optometrist appointments for all of them. Dentist, too, if you want. That will get everyone caught up before I—before you take over.”
Mitch grimaced and rubbed one palm along a jawline in need of a shave. “Eve handled all the appointments, and I have no idea who any of the practitioners are. But I think she kept files somewhere in my office. I'll look for them this week.”
Another silence descended, this one stretching out until Abby shifted her feet and shot furtive glances at the doorway to the hall while Mitch thought about the faint scent of strawberries. And on that note...
He straightened up from the counter. “I'm, uh, going to finish up in the office,” he said. “Enjoy your day off tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
The following Thursday, Abby headed upstairs to the linen closet with a loaded laundry basket balanced on one hip. Not until she passed her bedroom door did she register the fact that it wasn't quite closed. She retraced her steps and pushed it open.
A startled Rachel stood up from the side of the bed, framed photo in hand and eyes wide. “I—uh—the door was open, and I—uh—wanted to make sure Kiana hadn't gotten into any—” She broke off as Abby, tight-lipped with anger and betrayal, walked across the room and held out her hand for the picture.
“My door might have been open,” Abby said, “but my bedside table certainly wasn't.” She slipped the photo back into the drawer and slid it shut. “Care to explain?”
“I'm sorry,” Rachel mumbled. “I was curious.”
“That's no reason to go through my private things, Rachel. Think about how you would feel if you found me snooping through your room.”
The girl's gaze dropped from hers. “I'd be really mad.”
“And I am, but I'm sad, too, that you would break my trust like that.” Abby sat on the bed and patted the spot beside her in invitation. After a second's hesitation, Rachel perched beside her. Abby took a deep breath. “Sweetie, I'm running out of ideas here. Every time things seem to be getting on track between us, something happens to throw them off again, and I don't know why. Am I really that bad a person to have around?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Then why?” Abby asked. “Why do we keep having issues, Rachel? Why would you come into
my private space and—”
“I thought you were trying to get Daddy to marry you.”
Jaw hanging open, Abby stared at the teen. A mix of anger, embarrassment, and defensiveness stared back. Abby shook her head. “Where on earth did you get that idea? I'm only staying three months, remember? We're actually down to just over two, and—”
“Mandy's mom said we shouldn’t be surprised if the two of you got hitched. She said that's why women like you take jobs as nannies.”
Women like...
“I see.” Abby said, curling her fingers into the duvet beneath her. Well, that answered her previous question about Perky having an underhanded motive behind that cheery façade, didn’t it? “So, you were...?”
“Investigating you.”
“Ms. Perkins' idea?”
“Me and Mandy. We looked you up online, but we couldn't find anything there like we could with the others.”
“The oth—the other nannies? You've done this before?” Despite Abby's efforts to keep her voice neutral, a sharpness had entered it and Rachel's shoulders hunched miserably as she nodded. “Ms. Perkins thought all of them wanted to marry your father, too?”
That earned her a snort and an eye roll. “Of course not! They were too young. But Mandy and I decided that as long as we have a nanny...” Rachel trailed off and then launched into a babble. “She just wants to help us, and she's really nice and fun and everything, and she likes Daddy and us, and maybe if he gave her a chance, they could fall in love and then we could—”
“Whoa.” Abby held up both hands to ward off the sudden flow of words and her deepening suspicion. “Clarify that last bit for me. Who wants to help?”
Another eye roll. “Jessica, of course. Mandy's mom? She's been offering and offering, but Daddy keeps saying no, and Mandy and I think it would be cool to be sisters.”
Oh. Dear. Lord.
Abby stared at the girl beside her. She didn't even know where to start with this mess, apart from throttling Perky—which might not actually help matters, although it would give Abby great satisfaction. She took a deep, steadying breath, then reached out and turned Rachel's chin so the girl had to look at her. “Right,” she said, “so here's the thing. First, I'm not looking to get married. Not to your dad or anyone else. Second, I'm pretty sure your dad isn't looking to get married again, either. Third, even if he was, or is, or will one day, who he marries is up to him, not you and your friend.”
Or your friend's meddling mother.
“And fourth, you need to let me do the job I came here to do because your dad really, really needs the help. You guys need to learn how to be a family again, Rachel, and you need to do it with just the four of you because there's no guarantee that another marriage will ever happen. Life just isn't that simple or predictable.”
Rachel sat quietly beside her, scuffing a toe against the hardwood floor. “I miss her,” she whispered at last.
“I know, sweetie,” Abby said. Impulsively, she put an arm around the girl's shoulders. She expected resistance, but to her surprise, Rachel leaned into her, burying her face against Abby's collarbone. Abby's second arm joined the first, and she rested her cheek atop the soft, dark cloud of curls piled on the girl's head. “I know,” she said again.
They sat together for a long, quiet minute, and then Rachel pulled away to look at Abby. “Have you ever known someone that died?”
“Both of my parents are gone,” Abby said, offering the least painful of her stories, “but I was older than you when they died.”
“What happened?”
“A drunk driver.” Proving that lightning really did strike twice, because that was how Olivia and William had died, too.
“I'm sorry.”
Abby brushed a tiny spiral of hair back from Rachel's forehead. “It was a long time ago,” she said. “But thank you. And I'm sorry that your mom died.”
“Do you ever stop missing someone?”
Abby's gaze strayed to the closed drawer as she thought about the hollow agony she'd lived with since that awful day, its edges sharp and raw, scraping at every breath she took, every beat of her heart. Except... except sitting here with Rachel, being in this house filled with so much life and so much need... was it just her imagination, or were the edges of her pain just a tiny bit duller? She realized Rachel waited for an answer and set aside the possibility for closer examination later.
“I think,” she said slowly, remembering the words of the leader of the bereaved parents group she'd briefly joined in the weeks following the accident, “I think we always miss them, but time takes away some of our pain, so that it's not as hard to remember them.”
“I don't want to forget her.”
“And you won't. You can't, because you get to see her every time you look in the mirror or at one of your sisters. She's as much a part of you as your dad is, sweetheart. Death doesn't take that away.”
“I guess.”
“And you can talk about her, too, you know. With your sisters, with your dad... even with me. I'd like to hear about her.”
“You wouldn't mind?”
“I'd be honored to listen.”
Another few seconds slid past, and then Rachel stood. “Thank you,” she said. “And, Abby? I'm really sorry I've given you such a hard time. I promise I'll do better.”
“I know you will.”
Abby waited until the door closed behind the teen, and then she opened the drawer and took out the photo. Gently, barely touching, her fingers caressed the lines of her daughter's face. Her words to Rachel had been true. The girls really would have a part of their mother with them always, but for Abby... for Abby, it was different, because she would never again see Olivia in someone's smile or hear her voice in someone's laugh. Every trace of her daughter had disappeared except for images printed on paper and memories stored in her mind—both of which would inevitably fade with time.
She would never forget her daughter, but neither would her memories be as vivid as she desperately wished them to remain. Because the bereaved parents' leader had been right about life and time going on, and—
A screech from Brittany downstairs sliced through her thoughts. “Kia, stop it! Abby, Kia won't stop bugging me, and I have homework to do!”
With a sigh, Abby tucked the picture into the drawer, glanced at the cell phone—with its many unanswered texts from her sister—on the bedside table's surface, and then went to attend to the life that seemed so determined to prove the parents' group leader right.
Chapter 25
“Did you know Abby was married before?” Rachel asked. “At least, I think she was.”
Mitch paused in the doorway, his hand on the light switch as he looked back at his daughter sitting up in bed. “What makes you say that?”
“I saw a picture in her room.”
“And what were you doing in her room?”
“I was checking to make sure Kiana hadn't gone in.” Rachel hugged her knees under the covers. “And I was snooping. But Abby and I already talked about it, and I apologized.”
Mitch crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I see. That's a pretty serious transgression, kiddo.”
“I know, and I'm really sorry, Daddy. I won't do it again, I promise. And I'm going to try harder for her. We talked about that, too.”
“I'm very glad to hear it.”
“But did you know? About her being married before?”
“Abby's private life is none of my business—or yours.” Mitch tamped down a flash of curiosity that disagreed.
“There was a girl in the picture, too. I think she's around Britt's age.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
Rachel shook her head.
“And did she offer to tell you?”
Another shake.
“Then it's none of our business,” he repeated.
“But the picture makes her sad, and—” Rachel broke off with a sigh when he raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now, sleep. You have school tomorrow.” He reached out and switched off the light.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, kiddo?”
“Are you ever going to get married again?”
Mitch turned the light back on. “What? Where did that come from?”
“Abby and I were talking. She said there was no guarantee you'd ever get married again. That's why you need to learn how to do things yourself around here, and we have to help.”
“I see.” Back to crossed arms and leaning. “Well, to be fair, me learning how to look after you guys and the house is something I need to do whether I get married again or not. Your mom was amazing at doing everything around here, and it was easy for me to let her, but it wasn't fair to any of us. I'm sorry I didn't do my share of things.”
“But will you get married again?”
“I don't know, kiddo. It's not the sort of thing I can predict. Maybe, one day, if I meet someone, I suppose I might think about it.”
“So you haven't thought about it yet?”
Why, why, why did these deep discussions always have to happen at bedtime? Mitch gave up on the idea of a quick goodnight and returned to his daughter's bedside. “Scoot over.” Rachel shifted out of his way and he sat down beside her. “I take it you've been thinking about it?”
“A little. Mandy and me were talking, and—”
“Mandy and I.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mandy and I were talking, and we thought it would be cool if you and her mom got married so that we could be sisters.”
Mitch didn't even attempt to hide his choke. “Me and Mrs. Perkins? Um... no. She's a very nice lady, and I'm glad you and Mandy are such good friends, but—no.”
“That's okay. I don't think it would work anyway. I know you don't like her that way, and I've decided that having two sisters is enough for me. But what about Abby?”
Abigail Always Page 13
