we eat with you?” Livvie asked from behind him.
Was it possible Rachel had seen his daughter coming and spoken when she did, counting on getting his child’s support? Or was he being unreasonably suspicious again? He desperately missed Olivia’s sensible way of keeping him grounded.
“It’s up to your father,” Rachel said.
“Thanks, that would be nice,” he agreed finally. After all, one dinner didn’t mean anything.
“Great. I’m going to head back to my place. I’m in 2B and can have everything ready in an hour. Does that sound okay?”
“It works for us.”
He kept himself from watching her graceful figure walk away, and concentrated on spending a while longer with Livvie, putting the little motorized boat back into the water and sending it around in circles. Then they went home to wash up for the meal. Livvie wanted to put on the dress she’d worn for a Christmas party, but he talked her out of the frilly outfit before changing his business suit for less formal clothing.
Shortly before seven, he rang the doorbell to 2B.
Rachel was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt and had a dish towel tied around her waist instead of an apron. A delicious, faintly exotic scent wafted through the air.
“Welcome,” she said, waving them inside.
Simon glanced around. It was the first time he’d seen one of the other condos in the building. This one seemed spacious and had a nice lakeside view. The living room was decorated with eclectic touches from around the world and an electronic picture frame shifted through scenes he recognized from his own travels.
Rachel had gone into the kitchen and returned with a tray holding serving bowls. She carried it toward the French doors opening onto the deck.
“I enjoy eating outside when the weather is nice,” she said. “Is that all right?”
“Sounds fine.”
“Sit wherever you’re comfortable.”
A minute later she reappeared with a large platter. “As I mentioned, this is all leftovers.”
“I like leftovers,” Livvie announced.
His daughter seemed determined to like everything connected to their neighbor, though Simon wasn’t sure Livvie knew what Rachel meant. Neither he nor Olivia had bothered with leftovers much.
“So do I,” Rachel said. “Since my parents were caterers, I grew up on food left from their catering jobs. Maybe I’m biased, but I think some dishes are better the second time around.”
Simon looked at the platter of meat and roasted vegetables, alongside bowls of salads.
“You made all of this?”
“Just the salads. My friends grilled the meat and veggies for a get-together on Saturday. Fewer guests came than expected, so they sent a container of the excess home with me. I meant to share it around the office today and forgot.”
“What’s that?” Livvie asked, pointing to a vegetable.
“Eggplant.”
Livvie giggled. “That’s silly. Eggs don’t grow on plants.”
“No, but some types of eggplant have an egg shape, or at least that must be what people thought.”
“Do I have to eat a whole serving if it’s yucky?”
Rachel’s lips twitched. “Simon, I don’t know your rules about food, so you should probably answer that.”
“I want Livvie to try things, but she doesn’t have to finish anything she truly dislikes.”
“There’s your answer, Livvie,” Rachel said. “If you want to try it, fine, but I won’t be upset if you don’t want to finish.”
“Okay,” Livvie said, looking relieved. While she seemed eager to please Rachel, she was decidedly picky about her food.
Simon served his daughter before filling his own plate and taking a bite of the eggplant. He’d eaten it in eggplant parmesan, but this was different and quite delicious.
Livvie chewed a small amount of the eggplant and made a face before swallowing. But she ate another bite, so perhaps she was merely concentrating.
“This is excellent,” he said, tasting a salad of noodles and various vegetables.
Rachel didn’t appear flattered by the compliment. She simply shrugged. “Thanks to my parents, cooking has always been part of my life.”
“But you didn’t decide to become a caterer?”
She grinned. “I’d rather cook when I want, not on demand.”
“To keep it a hobby, not a job.”
“Right.” Rachel cocked her head. “I was thinking about hobbies earlier. It’s interesting that you mentioned them.”
“How do you define a hobby?” he asked politely.
“I’m not sure. I used to think it was to create something lasting, but that isn’t true of activities like mountain climbing. And food only lasts until you eat it.”
“Perhaps it leaves lasting memories.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Or a little extra on the hips.”
Simon tried not to look at her figure; he’d already noted how attractive she was. Sandra’s determined efforts to get him in front of an altar had left him suspicious of women, yet he didn’t think Rachel was fishing for compliments.
He glanced at Livvie. She was exploring the food on her plate. Some dishes she obviously liked, but others she seemed less certain about. He decided it was best to let her continue experimenting without comment.
“Rachel, what other hobbies would you enjoy?”
“I’m still thinking about it. Gemma mentioned being in a sign language class, so I thought about taking classes, as well. I’ve always been fascinated by anthropology.”
Simon was so busy he couldn’t imagine needing a hobby. “I’ve never had to worry about it, but I suppose something like that would help fill your time.”
She sent him a look tinged with annoyance. “I don’t need to fill my time,” she said crisply, “but I’m essentially self-employed now. It would be easy to lose myself in work. Instead I want to expand my mind and explore new things. But I suppose some people don’t care about doing that.”
It was a not-so-subtle gibe and Simon belatedly realized he must have sounded condescending.
“New things like eggplant?” Livvie asked, innocently breaking the tense moment.
Rachel smiled at her. “New foods are one thing to explore, and I want to find others. There are so many choices,
