Читать книгу Lydia Lane - Judith Bowen - Страница 10

LYDIA WAS VERY AWARE of his interest in her as a woman but realized at the same time that Sam Pereira liked women. Always had. Any woman interested him. “Prices? Services? Timetables?” she said briskly.

“Services.”

“All right. From the bit I’ve seen and from what Candace has told me, I’d start by overseeing a complete overhaul of your house, top to bottom.”

“Which would involve—what?” He frowned.

“Getting everything cleaned, first of all. Carpets, furniture, kitchen cabinets, floors, walls—”

“Wow. You do that?”

“No, I don’t clean. But I can go through your house and make a list of what’s needed and hire a crew to do the actual work. I deal with several firms in town that specialize in cleaning. They do a thorough job.”

He nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“It would probably be best if you and Amber left for a couple of days, while the cleaners are here,” she added, doubtfully. This was a recommendation that a lot of her clients didn’t like. They thought it wouldn’t matter if they were on the premises but it always did. People got upset seeing commercial cleaners handle their furniture, move their goods around, clean behind their family pictures. It was human nature. Then there were damp carpets to dry, which took a day, sometimes strong odors in the house….

“As it happens, Amber’s away on a ski trip next weekend with a family from the neighborhood. Would that be too soon—if we go ahead with this?”

“I’ll check. I can let you know.” Lydia heard a clatter and a yelp from the kitchen.

“You okay?” Sam called over his shoulder.

“Okay, Dad! Just dropped the rolling pin. Don’t worry, it didn’t break.”

“I’m more worried about your toes, honey,” he called back.

Lydia raised one eyebrow. Rolling pin?

“She’s doing the biscuits, I guess. Okay, cleaning. I’d be in town but I’d stay out of your way, I promise. What about you? What would you be doing?”

“Me? Besides supervising subcontractors, I’d come in on the organization side. We’d go through everything together. For example, I’d guess that you want your closets done—that hall closet looks pretty bad. Also kitchen cabinets, linen closets, drawers, things like that.”

“Linen closets. Hmm.”

Lydia’s cheeks were hot. The fire was blazing and it was very warm in the room, especially with two sweaters on. The wine didn’t help.

“Sanctuary. Harmony. Isn’t that what you promised on television?” He smiled. “I admit, it sounds very appealing. You’d be doing this…this organizing yourself, right? Not someone who works for you?”

“Is that a factor?” She wondered why her heart was racing.

“Yes, it is,” he said with a shrug. “I know you. Well, I sort of know you from the past. Right?” When Lydia nodded he continued. “Amber knows Steve. I think I told you we went fishing last year. Now Candace has had you on her show. Let’s just say I’d like to—you know, keep this personal. In fact, I insist. That’s why I preferred to have you meet Amber casually tonight. Almost as though this is an ordinary social occasion.”

She wasn’t convinced by his reasons but, regardless, his position fit in with her plans.

Oh. She suddenly got it.

“That way if Amber didn’t take to you or I decided not to do this, we could just drop the whole thing and she’d—well, you’re just a family friend who stopped by for dinner once.” He smiled wryly. “Then I could start interviewing housekeepers all over again, like we’ve done before.”

“Dinner!” Amber came into the dining room with the bowl of cabbage salad in her hands, her eyes shining with pleasure. “Everything’s ready, Dad.” Her jeans were rolled up, obviously too long for her, and her feet were bare. Lydia realized how proud and pleased the girl was to participate in the dinner preparations for her father’s guest. Somehow, Lydia couldn’t see Candace allowing an eight-year-old to muck about with a salad or touch a hot oven to bake biscuits. If it was a safety issue, maybe Sam shouldn’t either…. Lydia didn’t know.

The doorbell rang. Sam stood and took Lydia’s empty wineglass from her nerveless fingers.

“You understand, don’t you?” he said softly, moving very close to her. She met his gaze, difficult as it was with him so near.

“Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

The doorbell rang again.

“You go join Amber at the table, okay?” he said, touching her shoulder lightly. He looked apologetic but she supposed he’d actually done her a favor by letting her know how things stood. “This is her big event. I’ll bring in the chicken.”

DESSERT WAS Rocky Road ice cream. A premium brand, Lydia noted, but then she hadn’t thought for a moment that Sam was a penny-pincher or that his domestic problems were a result of being reluctant to spend money.

Lydia learned quite a lot during the meal, without prying at all. Amber, she was relieved to see, took to her immediately, maybe because Lydia had complimented her warmly on her salad.

The girl had had a series of nannies since her mother left, then there’d been an exclusive day care for a while followed by up-and-down relationships with a series of housekeepers. Sam Pereira had tried everything in his attempts to do the best for his daughter and run his household smoothly at the same time.

Everything except Domestica. Her services didn’t come cheap, but she didn’t think Sam would object to the expense. He seemed desperate.

As for the salad, it was quite good. Kind of mushy, but tasty—the way leftover coleslaw tasted. Lydia had caught Sam’s eye once or twice as Amber rattled on, telling her about school and what Santa brought her for Christmas, and had been hard-pressed to keep a straight face. He’d been worried that she wouldn’t get along with his child! Surely the only objections he could have now would be to the price, possibly, and the service she could provide. She crossed her fingers under the table; she needed this job.

Toward the end of the meal Sam casually asked Lydia what she had planned for New Year’s Eve and Lydia reminded him that she was going to one of her best friends’ weddings. At the news, Amber stared at her so raptly that Lydia almost felt embarrassed.

“Oh, I wish I could see a bride. I’ve never been to a wedding.” She glanced at her father.

“Never?”

Amber shook her head and Sam looked uncomfortable. “Never. My best friend has, Tania, her cousin got married and she got to go….” The girl’s voice trailed off and Lydia felt a pang of sympathy.

“Excuse me.” Sam cleared his throat and left the table. He carried the empty ice cream dishes into the kitchen, where he piled them on top of a stack of soiled dishes already in the sink. Lydia followed him with some glasses and cutlery. She wondered how one small girl could dirty so many dishes making salad-out-of-a-bag and refrigerator dinner rolls.

“Coffee?”

“Do I dare?”

“Of course you do,” he said with a grin. “I make excellent coffee. It’s one of my prime domestic skills. Trust me.” He reached into a cupboard for mugs. “So, your best friend’s wedding, huh?”

“One of my best friends. Charlotte. The other best friend, Zoey Phillips, is getting married in February.”

Lydia was sorry the conversation had veered to weddings. She went back to the dining room for the dish containing the remaining coleslaw and the chicken bucket, which had been plunked down in its cardboard container in the center of the table. Even though she was technically a guest, there was no ceremony here….

“And you’ve never been married?” he continued, when she returned.

“No.” He knew that, didn’t he? Why had he asked?

“Not even close?”

Why did he look so interested? It was annoying. Lydia shrugged. No way was she telling this man about the almost-proposal from the unemployed musician!

Sam poured coffee beans into a grinder. “Poor kid. No weddings! What kind of single parent am I? I’m afraid I just don’t get all this girl stuff. Maybe I ought to start haunting churches on Saturdays instead of taking her skating. At least she’d get to see a few brides and limos.”

“It’s her age, don’t you think? Girls like weddings, especially little girls. They see it as a fashion event, like dressing up Barbie dolls, not a marriage between two people who want to make a life together.”

Sam laughed softly. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Hey, sometimes even grown-up girls see it as a fashion event, not a marriage,” he said. Lydia wondered at the faint note of bitterness in his voice. It had been four years—was he still in love with Candace Downing? Or was he thinking of the tangled affairs of some of his clients?

Lydia returned to the dining room, where Amber was still sitting quietly at the table, apparently day-dreaming. Lydia felt sorry for her. She’d be delighted to take her to Charlotte’s wedding. Of course, she didn’t dare mention the possibility until she’d talked to Charlotte or, at least, Zoey. Charlotte’s marriage to her first love, Liam Connery, the man she’d rediscovered on her trip to Prince Edward Island this fall, was anything but formal. It was City Hall in the afternoon and a party at the King William afterward. A New Year’s-cum-wedding party. One more small guest wouldn’t matter….

“I wish you could meet my friend Tania,” Amber said, her brown eyes meeting Lydia’s seriously. “She’s been to a real wedding and she knows how to make chili and everything!”

“Oh?” Making chili was quite an accomplishment for a child Amber’s age. “Good for her.”

“Her mom showed her how.” Amber looked rather pensive for a few seconds. Lydia had a fleeting glimpse of the fashionable Candace in the kitchen with her daughter. “My nana helps me cook sometimes, but she won’t let me turn the oven on by myself,” the girl said. She brightened. “Dad does, though. Dad lets me do everything.”

“Is Tania the friend you’re going skiing with next weekend?”

“Boarding!” Amber scoffed, looking cheerful again. “Nobody skis, that’s for sissies—”

“Like me,” her father said, coming into the room with two steaming mugs topped with whipped milk foam. When Lydia had seen the coffee grinder, she knew he was serious about making a decent cup of coffee. Nice to see he wasn’t entirely helpless. “I ski. I’ll bet Lydia does, right?”

She nodded. “Not as much as I’d like to. But two or three times a winter.”

“Bo-o-oring,” Amber said with an impish grin.

“You used to box, too, as I recall,” Lydia said, taking her mug from him. “You still do?”

“Box? You mean my dad used to be a boxer like that creepy old Larry Mozzarella—”

“Amber!”

“He is, Dad! Mom said. He’s a creepy old, broken-down boxer—”

“Upstairs, young lady,” Sam ordered. When it seemed Amber might ignore him, he added, “Now.”

His daughter went to the door, red-faced. “How long?”

Sam glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Then you can come down and we’ll see how polite you can be.” He shook his head when the child left. “Sorry about that.”

Lydia followed Sam back to the family room, carrying her mug of coffee and cleared her throat softly. “Larry Mozzarella?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Actually it’s Massullo, but the girls, she and Tania, always call him that. Larry doesn’t mind. He’s a client.” He was silent for a full minute, frowning. “I just wish my ex-wife would keep her opinions to herself. Amber’s never made fun of Larry before. I don’t like that—”

“She knows him?”

“I’ve known Larry for a long time and, yeah, Amber’s met him.”

“It’s my fault, I guess. I didn’t know your boxing career was a secret.”

“No secret.” He bent to poke the fire. “And some career! To answer your question, yeah, I still put on the gloves from time to time. These days, it’s mainly to take a beating from the young guys—like Steve and I used to be.”

She stared at him, shocked.

He gave her a crooked grin. “Keeps a guy humble.” He set his cup on the mantel and threw another log on the fire. Sparks and bursts of flame, blue and orange, shot up the chimney and a small puff of smoke wafted into the room. Having the chimneys cleaned was high on any agenda for this place. If she got the job.

Sam sighed and picked up his mug. “Now, back to business. Can we talk money?”

“Sure.” She was surprised he’d changed the subject so abruptly. Maybe he’d remembered that neither his personal nor professional life was any of her concern—which they weren’t. He didn’t blink at the hourly fee she mentioned, plus an initial assessment fee. “Or, if you like, I could give you a quote for the full job once I’ve had more of a chance to see what’s involved.”

“That might be a good idea.” Sam lapsed into silence again, staring at the flames. The incident with his daughter had obviously disturbed him. Lydia regarded him, unobserved for a moment. He was still such an incredibly handsome man, clean-shaven now instead of wearing the three-days’ growth he’d affected as a teenager. Rugged, fit, with charisma and appeal that made a woman’s pulse jump. At least, hers did. She was curious—was Sam still as much of a ladies’ man as he’d once been? Probably. He’d obviously changed a lot from the days when he and Steve used to fix up old cars and drag-race at midnight. Lydia remembered her parents finding out and having a fit. Now he was a single parent, a responsible lawyer, a property owner.

Some things changed; some didn’t.

Lydia put down her mug and Sam glanced up at her. “I have a lunch date tomorrow but I could come over in the morning, if you don’t mind me being here early, about nine,” she said. “Or we can make it midafternoon.”

“Let’s go for the morning,” he said. “I’d like to do something with Amber in the afternoon, maybe take her to the Leafs’ game.”

“Fine with me.” Lydia stood. “Time for me to be on my way. Thank you for the meal. It was very nice.”

“And you’re very diplomatic, Ms. Lane,” he teased. He accompanied her to the hall closet, where he retrieved her coat. Here was a Domestica lesson….

“You see?” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from her coat. “When your closets are overstuffed, like yours is, you can’t find things—am I right?”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“And,” she continued logically, “when you do find something, it’s all wrinkled from being packed in—right again?”

He laughed and smoothed the shoulders of her coat after she’d put it on, a teasing, caressing gesture that gave Lydia cramps in her toes. “There! All smooth again. Drive carefully.”

“I will.”

He opened the door and held it for her.

“And, no question, you’ve passed the most important hurdle for the job. My daughter.”