a problem in her childhood, as it had been chronically in his.
So what did she hunger for? Fame? Recognition? Approval? Money entirely her own? What drove her? Her father’s barely concealed disdain for women aspiring to or attaining high places? Quinn would find out. It was no accident that he’d mentioned the biography of Napoleon at breakfast the previous morning. He’d sensed that same chronic restlessness in her, a restlessness that would doom her to a lifelong search, unless she learned to find peace in the here and now. Maybe that peace was what John wanted for his sister.
The arched wooden door opened slowly to reveal a thin, pale young woman with fine, shoulder-length blond hair, who looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week. He’d expected Stefanie to be a carbon copy of Annabel, at least in energy and spirit.
“Stefanie?”
“Yes.” She extended a small, cool hand that felt as if it might break in his grasp. “Hello, Mr. Garrett.”
“Quinn, please.”
“Quinn. It’s nice to meet you. What beautiful roses. Come on in.”
He followed her into the familiar living room, tastefully if sparsely decorated in muted colors, lacking life and energy without its owner there, caught bundled in pajamas and an old robe by an unexpected nocturnal visitor. He’d sensed Annabel’s discomfort, her longing to be as sleekly and confidently put together as she’d been the next morning at breakfast. Little did she know how that first rumpled sight of her had fueled his dreams that night.
“Would you like to put the roses in Annabel’s office?” Stefanie glanced at him, then away. There was something furtive about her, something self-protective; he couldn’t quite grasp what it was yet. Was she uneasy around him? Anxious about letting him in without Annabel here? Or simply nervous by nature?
“That would be fine.”
She led him through the dining room and around the corner, into a room astoundingly devoid of color and personality. How could someone as colorful as Annabel—he’d seen her only in red so far—surround herself with so much bland professionalism?
He put the flowers on her neatly organized desk and stepped back next to Stefanie to consider them. The effect of the brilliant splash in the dull room was nearly violent. “I guess you can’t miss them.”
Stefanie laughed. “I offered to decorate for the holidays, but she refused.”
“Really.”
Stefanie shrugged, obviously unwilling to offer up the opinion of her boss he was after.
“Why do you think that is?”
“Oh. Well, she’s so busy. And the holidays are always so busy. And I guess…she’s…” Stephanie’s frantic gestures subsided as she seemed to run out of possible explanations. Or politically correct ones.
“Busy?”
“Yes.” Stefanie laughed abruptly. “Things might be going well, but they could be going better.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what she says?”
“It’s her motto, she had me tape it to my computer.” Stefanie turned to walk into a room across the tiny hall. “Here.”
Quinn followed and nodded at the black-lettered sign adorning one of Holocorp’s HC-2s. More, more, better, better…as he feared. “I take it that wouldn’t have been your decorating choice?”
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s a good motto. She certainly puts it into practice. I swear she never takes a day off. Never even an hour. When I leave every day I get the feeling she’s not even close to winding down. She’s amazing.”
Not quite the word he’d use. He pointed to the tiny tree on Stefanie’s desk, lights blinking on and off, tiny plastic presents under the green fake-needled branches. “Nice touch.”
Stefanie blushed, bringing welcome color into her pretty face. “Silly, I suppose, but I need something to remind me of Christmas. I love this time of year.”
She emphasized “I” just enough to send the message that Annabel didn’t. “Bob Cratchit working for Scrooge?”
“Oh, no, she’s not bad. I like her a lot—she’s a great person.” Stefanie stooped to turn up a space heater blasting away in the already-warm room, and put her hand protectively on her abdomen. “Sorry, but I can’t stay warm in this house.”
“Why don’t you ask Annabel to turn up the heat?”
“She teases me all the time how cold is good for me. I finally just bought a heater.”
Quinn frowned. First rule of good management, whenever you can, keep your employees happy in whatever ways you can. The little things mattered. “I see.”
“I don’t want you to think it’s a problem.” Stefanie stared at him anxiously. “It’s definitely not a problem.”
Quinn forced a smile. It was a problem. One so easily resolved. “How long have you been working for Annabel?”
“Since she started Chefs Tonight, a year or so ago.”
“What did you do before that?”
“Oh, well, I was a hostess at a couple of restaurants, a waitress. Seems I’m always involved with food in some way. But I like working here.”
“You don’t get lonely stuck in a back room all day?”
“No, Annabel’s here a lot, and she has really sweet neighbors on both sides, Kathy across the street—she runs a day care—and Chris to the north, we have lunch sometimes. This is a great block. The kids are out playing all summer long and after school, it’s very cheerful.”
“So Annabel is close to her neighbors.”
“Oh. Well, not exactly. But I’ve gotten to know them and they’re great people. See, Annabel is so busy she doesn’t really have time for friends. There’s her brother, John, who you know, I guess, and then once in a while there’s a new guy who calls for a while until she breaks it off…she always breaks it off.” Stefanie rolled her eyes. “Trail of broken hearts around the city. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Quinn chuckled, filing the information away. Was Annabel so driven she couldn’t fall in love? Too blind to see the opportunities? Or did she deliberately choose men who couldn’t touch her and interfere with her work? “I’m an old friend of the family.”
“Oh. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… I mean, I know she knew you before, but then the roses today…I thought…” She winced and put her finger to her head as if it were the barrel of a gun. “Shut up, Stefanie.”
“A natural assumption.” He was definitely in luck—Stefanie was a talker. “What did Annabel do before this?”
“She had another business. With…a friend.” Stefanie’s expression closed down. She put her hand again to her abdomen, rubbed briefly and stifled a yawn.
“Something went wrong.” He spoke gently, to encourage her confidence.
