by Thea Dawson
“Guess what!” Rachel stage-whispered, jumping out of the chair. She was wearing jeans and a slouchy sweater and socks with no shoes. She looked even younger than she did at work. But she wasn’t that much younger than he was, really …
He forced his wandering mind back on track. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“She smiled at me.” Rachel’s face was glowing. “A real smile. You know how she was asleep when I got here? Well, I went to check on her when I heard her waking up, and when she saw me, she smiled, and she waved her little hands at me.” Rachel pumped her arms in comic imitation. “She recognized me, Bryce!”
“That’s great.” He managed a chuckle. “She really likes you, Rachel.”
The smile faded from her face. “You’re not jealous, are you? The only reason I got the smile was that I was here when she woke up. She’ll smile at you soon, I know it. She’s getting so interactive, you know? It’s so exciting to see her developing like this.”
Not sure what to say, he turned to take off his coat, which he threw over the back of the couch.
“Hey, you must be exhausted,” Rachel went on in the same stage whisper. “Is that why you’re home early? I’ll get out of your hair.” She started toward the coffee table where she’d left her purse.
“Wait.” The word fell out of his mouth before he knew why he was asking her to wait. “Um … would you stay and have a drink with me? A glass of wine or something?”
She stared at him, her mouth open slightly. He’d never really noticed before what pretty lips she had, small but plump and pouty and pink … He blinked his gaze away from them and up to her eyes again.
“Sorry,” he said. “I hope I’m not being out of line or anything. I just … I’ve been working with you for a week, and I hardly know you. I never even interviewed you properly.” He shrugged. “Maybe you could tell me where you see yourself in five years or what your greatest strength is.”
The pretty, pouty lips crooked into a smile. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll stay for a drink. But for every awkward question you ask me, I get to ask you one.”
“Fair enough.”
He had a bottle of Riesling in the fridge. He poured a couple of glasses and sat down on the couch while she curled back up in the armchair, her legs tucked under her.
“This is delicious,” she said, swallowing her first sip.
“It’s one of my favorites.” He took a sip from his glass, and they sat in silence for a moment. “So, Rachel Cohen, tell me something about yourself.”
She looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Well … I like to travel.”
“I noticed that from your resume. Nannying in England, teaching English in Japan, volunteering in Calcutta … You’ve done a lot of interesting things.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life, so I took off and had adventures. None of it really added up to a career, though. So now I’m back where I started, still trying to figure out what I want to do.”
He resisted the impulse to say something condescending about how she was still young. She was only five years younger than he was, damn it. He changed course. “Did you grow up in this area?”
She nodded. “I’m staying with my parents at the moment. They don’t live all that far from you, actually. They’re also on the water, a couple of miles from here.”
“Nice.” He mentally situated Rachel’s parents in one of the large, expensive houses that dotted the shoreline. “You get along with your family?”
“Yeah, I love them.” Rachel smiled. “I mean, they drive me crazy, but they’re awesome. My mom’s a total stereotype, she’s always on me to marry a nice Jewish boy, and my dad keeps telling me it’s not too late to become a doctor like him or a lawyer like my uncle.”
He chuckled. “Don’t become a lawyer. You’re too nice. Any brothers or sisters?”
“My sister’s the oldest. She’s a doctor, she’s married, and she has two kids, so she’s the favorite. My brother is in the middle. He’s not married, but he does have a high-powered job on Wall Street, so he’s the second favorite. And then there’s me.” She shook her head with mock sadness. “I’m sort of the footloose black sheep of the family.”
“You’re carving your own destiny,” he assured her.
“Oh, I like that!” she replied. “It sounds so much better than, ‘Rachel, when are you going to settle down? Rachel, when are you going to take life seriously?”
He laughed, and she took another sip of wine.
“How about you?” she asked. “Brothers or sisters?”
The smile faded from his face. “I had a younger brother. He died when I was eight, and he was six.”
Rachel sat up straighter in the armchair, her expression stricken. “Oh, God. Bryce, I’m so sorry.”
Bryce took another sip of wine. He hadn’t thought about Logan in ages, but now a memory of a cheerful little blond boy rose in his mind. “It was a long time ago. He came down with some kind of fever, and no one realized how serious it was until it was too late.” He swirled the wine in the glass. “It wasn’t really anyone’s fault, but it was kind of the end of my parents’ marriage. They got divorced a couple of years later. My dad died about a year ago, like I told you. My mom is remarried and lives in Florida.”
“Oh.” Rachel was staring at him, her big brown eyes wide with sympathy. “You close to your mom?”
“Not really. We talk every few weeks. Once every couple of years, I go down to Florida to see her for a few days. We get along okay, we’re just not close.” He laughed at Rachel’s expression, which was now so sad it reminded him of a cartoon character. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all mopey on you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t really gotten enough sleep over the past week. I think it’s affecting my brain.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Rachel put her glass down. “I should let you get some rest.”
Shit. That hadn’t been what he meant. But it was late, and he was skirting a fine line, drinking in his living room late at night with an employee—and she was right, he really did need some sleep.
Rachel put her shoes on while he wrote her a check, which he handed to her just before she walked out the door. She glanced at it and handed it back.
“No, Bryce, really, that’s too much.” She shook her head, smiling. “I had fun with her. You don’t need to pay me anything.”
“I insist.” He pushed the check toward her. “If you don’t take it now, I’ll just have to add it to your next paycheck. Take it, so I don’t have to annoy my accountant. Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to. You should stay with the baby.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” he assured her. “And the parking lot is like, ten feet away.”
“You’re not even wearing your coat,” she protested, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her as they stepped into the cold.
“It’s fine,” he said, breathing in air. It was better than fine, actually. The cold air tasted of the ocean. It was bracing and made him feel more alive than he had in weeks.
“What else do you have planned for your weekend?” he asked as they walked down the steps.
“Brunch with my family tomorrow. Kind of a tradition.”
“Sounds nice.”
He walked with her across the lot. It was a cold, clear night, and the wind blew sharply off the water, bringing with it a fresh, salty scent.
“This is my car.” Rachel stopped by a green Ford Focus under one of the old-fashioned-looking streetlights that dotted the parking lot and walkways. She’d parked just a few spaces down from his own car. “Thanks for the wine. It was nice getting to know you a bit better.”
He looked down at her sweet, cheerful little face and smiled back. “Get home safe, Rachel. And have fun with your family tomorrow. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He watched her get in the car and drive off. He was almost tempted to stay outside longer, breathing in the exhilarating air, b
ut he couldn’t leave the baby alone any longer. Back in the condo, he tiptoed into the room that had once been a guest room and was now a makeshift nursery, and leaned over the edge of the crib. The baby lay on her back in her little sleeping sack, her arms thrown out to the side, her tiny chest rising and falling. He had to resist the urge to stroke her fuzzy head lest he wake her up.
For the first time since he’d gotten her, the baby slept all night.
7
Sunday morning brunch was a long-standing tradition with the Cohen family. It took different forms, depending on the season and who was around. That Sunday, it was Rachel and her mother meeting Rachel’s sister, Debbie, and their grandmother at their favorite bistro.
Nan leaned over the table toward Rachel. “Tell us all about your new job, sweetheart. It’s so like you to get yourself into such a crazy situation. I’m dying to know more about this baby you’re looking after.”
“You’re babysitting? I thought you were working in a law office.” Deb gave her a curious look over a forkful of omelet.
Whoops. Rachel swallowed a piece of toast and thought about how to reply. She’d explained the situation to her mother and sworn her to secrecy, but she had forgotten to do the same with Nan.
But the cat was already halfway out of the bag, and Deb wouldn’t quit until she knew the whole story.
“Well … okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to swear not to say anything to anyone. My boss doesn’t want me talking about it, so nothing I tell you is to leave this table.”
Nan’s eyes widened. “Your boss doesn’t want you talking about your job? What, are you undercover for the CIA or something?”
Rachel shook her head impatiently. “No. I told you and Mom before I realized it was a secret. But just don’t tell anyone else.”
“Ooh, this sounds good.” Deb put her fork down to give Rachel her undivided attention.
“I’m serious, Deb.” Deb was a lot more gossipy than you’d give a pediatrician credit for. “Say anything to anyone, and I could lose my job.”
Deb rolled her eyes. “I can keep a secret, I’m a doctor, for crying out loud. Now spill.”
“So, basically, my boss found out that a woman he dated had given birth to his baby and then died, and now he has custody of the baby, but he’s still adjusting to the whole situation, so he wants to keep it quiet until he figures out, uh, what to tell people.”
Better to not go down the adoption rabbit hole, she thought. They could be here all morning discussing the pros and cons of Bryce’s plans for Nora.
“So I’m helping out with the baby until he can get her in daycare next week. After that, it’ll be back to normal office stuff,” she finished.
“Whoa, he had no idea he had a baby?” Deb wasn’t going to let the subject drop that easily.
Rachel shook her head. “No. And don’t ask me for any more information, because that is literally all I know. The rest of it is none of my business. Or yours,” she added quickly.
Deb gave a prim little snort of concession. “Fine. Well, if he needs a pediatrician, you know a good one.”
“Who? Dr. Joseph?” Dr. Joseph had been their pediatrician when they were children.
“Brat. Anyway, besides the babysitting, how’s it going? Is Mr. Didn’t-Know-He-Was-a-Dad a good boss?”
Rachel considered the question, hoping she wouldn’t blush or otherwise give away her crush.
“Yeah, he’s … kind of … gruff, I guess, but he’s a nice guy underneath it all. I think he’s not getting quite enough sleep these days.”
“Those first few months can be rough,” Deb agreed. “Besides babysitting, what kind of stuff is he having you do?”
“Answering the phones, making appointments, that kind of thing.”
“She’s his right-hand gal, aren’t you?” Her mother looked at her proudly.
Rachel ducked her head, but she was glad to get the heat off Bryce. “I’m just his secretary, Mom. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Well, I’m proud of you, honey. Plus, I like having you home. I missed you when you were gone.”
“We all did,” agreed Nan, “But I, for one, think you are a very remarkable young lady for working your way around the world. Not everyone is that brave or that curious.” Nan shook a long finger laden with rings at her. “And curiosity—that is one of the most valuable traits anyone can have. As long as you’re curious, you’ll never be bored.”
Rachel smiled at her grandmother. “Thanks, Nan.”
“Well, I, for one, think you should go to medical school and marry a nice Jewish boy,” said Deb through a mouthful of egg.
“Deborah!” Mom scolded.
Deb laughed. “Well, that’s what you always say. Worked for me.” She grinned at Rachel. “I’m kidding. Doesn’t sound like you’re going to meet any nice Jewish boys at your job anyway. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Groucho is lucky to have you.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky too. It’s a nice job.” Rachel studied the floral centerpiece on the table, wondering if her warm cheeks wouldn’t give her away.
“What are his plans for the holidays?” asked Mom.
“Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t really have any family around here.” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t think he’s planning on closing the office, except for Christmas and New Year’s, so I guess I’ll be working the whole time.”
“You should invite him to the Hanukkah party next week.”
Every year, her parents threw an annual holiday party on the Saturday during Hanukkah. Guests included every living relative within a four-hour drive and just about everyone else the Cohens had ever met.
It was one thing to have a little office crush on her hot boss; it was quite another to invite him to meet her extended family and all their friends.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mom …”
“You absolutely should!” Nan agreed. “Especially if he’s going to be all alone for the holidays. It would be a nice gesture.”
“Totally,” Deb agreed. “There’s always room for one more.”
“Two more,” Rachel reminded her. “Don’t forget Nora.” She tried to envision Bryce having fun at a party, and came up dry. He was so serious all the time. He’d probably turn her down if she asked. But he might appreciate the invitation, at least. It couldn’t hurt.
“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll invite him.”
On Monday, following Rachel’s orders, Bryce stopped by Leslie’s home daycare before work. Leslie was a plump, motherly woman in her mid-thirties, her house was clean and well organized, and her references had all been glowing. He left the baby with her, content that she was in good hands.
Now the office was beautifully, blessedly baby-free, and Rachel was finally able to apply her abundance of energy to his legal practice, helping him catch up on calls and correspondence and sort through a small mountain of work-related expenses that had piled up since Mrs. Willoughby’s departure.
He’d felt sheepish coming into the office that morning, wondering if his uncharacteristic heart-to-heart with Rachel on Saturday would make it awkward to work with her. He’d covered his discomfort by being brisk and businesslike, hoping to reestablish professional boundaries—or maybe just establish them in the first place, since she’d been knee-deep in his personal life ever since she’d appeared in his office a week ago.
Rachel, though, was her regular, bubbly, over-familiar self. If she wasn’t bothered by the way their work and professional lives had bumped against each other over the weekend, he wouldn’t be either, he decided.
Still, to be on the safe side, he wouldn’t ask her to babysit again.
He got off a call with the owner of a small business he was representing and leaned back in his chair. He’d slept almost as well on Sunday night as he had on Saturday, he was back on top of his work, and his office was no longer moonlighting as a nursery. Sure, the madness would start all over again at five when he went to pick the baby up from Leslie’s, but for now, it almost felt like things were
back to normal.
Rachel walked into his office, and he sat up, trying to look busy.
“I entered those receipts,” she told him. “What should I do with the spreadsheets?”
“Send my accountant an email to let him know they’ve been updated,” he answered. “Then, if you wouldn’t mind, all this—” he indicated a pile of paper in his outbox, “is stuff Mrs. Willoughby didn’t get around to dealing with before she left. Just file it by the client’s last name or legal business name if there is one.”
Rachel walked over to his desk and began picking up the loose collection of folders and papers from his outbox. “What happened to Mrs. Willoughby, anyway?”
“Her mother died and left her some money, and she … quit.”
“Couldn’t wait to get away from you, huh?” Rachel grinned at him.
Rachel was clearly joking, but the remark jabbed at him. He had inherited Mrs. Willoughby from his father. He thought they’d gotten along well enough, until she’d given him a single week’s notice and literally fled the country.
He had an uncomfortable suspicion that Rachel’s assessment might be right.
He cleared his throat. “I believe she and her husband went to live in Costa Rica.”
“Oh, wow!” Rachel exclaimed. “Ever been there? Oh my God, it’s so beautiful. You should think about retiring there. The weather’s amazing, and it’s not that expensive.”
This remark jabbed even harder than the first one. Whatever the virtues of Costa Rica, he was hardly old enough to be planning his retirement, and it annoyed him that she seemed to think he might be.
“Is there anything else?” he asked in a tone that suggested he very much hoped there wasn’t.
“Um …”
Rachel stood on the other side of the desk, fidgeting with the pile of papers in her arms. She looked a little nervous. Oh please, God, don’t let her be about to quit, he thought. He wondered again if he’d made a mistake offering her wine in his apartment.
“My mother is inviting you to our Hanukkah party. It’s on Saturday,” she said quickly.
He narrowed his eyes at her, not sure if he’d heard her right. “Your Hanukkah party? You know I’m not Jewish?”
