care about his daughters—but he was reserved, as if he was following some sort of a strict code that only he was aware of.
Meghan saw him first. “Daddy, Kennon’s teaching me to write,” she declared proudly.
Simon was paying a none-too-shabby tuition so that Meghan and Madelyn would receive the best parochial education possible. Even so, he’d been debating getting a tutor for the younger one because Meghan was having a harder time learning than her sister ever had. Apparently all he’d had to do to insure her improvement was get his house decorated.
He looked at the woman who had burst into his life like an unforecast hurricane. “Master chef, gifted teacher, instant nanny and, oh, yes, a top-flight decorator.” There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice as he ticked off the talents she’d displayed today. “Anything you can’t do, Miss Cassidy?”
Yes, fathom why I seem to annoy you so much, Kennon thought. She wasn’t about to say this out loud and merely rose to her feet. “I’ll let you know if and when it comes up.” Aware that she had stayed far longer than she’d intended, and most likely in the doctor’s opinion had more than overstayed her welcome, Kennon looked at her self-appointed assistants and said, “I’ve got to be going now.”
The girls both looked disappointed that she was leaving. “Oh, do you have to?” Meghan pouted. “I want to write some more.”
“Practice for me,” Kennon encouraged. “And yes, I really do have to go now. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised the sisters. When she saw the uncertain look in their eyes, she sensed that they’d had promises made that had been broken. It wasn’t much of a leap for her to guess who had broken them. She tried to reassure the girls. “We have work to do, remember?”
Clearly surprised at how quickly his daughters had taken to this almost total stranger, Simon asked, “What kind of work?”
Kennon gathered her things together and deposited them in her purse. She snapped the lock. “The girls and I are going to look over a few catalogues I’m bringing over for them so we can get some ideas on how to decorate their rooms.”
He hadn’t planned on seeing the woman again so soon. They hadn’t even worked out the terms of her fee yet. Not that money was a problem. That was definitely at the bottom of his list of concerns. “I suppose I’ll have to pay you extra for that.”
“Maybe I should pay you,” she countered. When he looked at her quizzically, she said by way of an explanation, “Your daughters are charming, Dr. Sheffield, and a lot of fun to be around.”
And I have an idea that you would be, too, if you gave yourself half a chance.
She raised her voice so that it would carry to the living room. “Good night, Edna. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Turning to her younger pupil, she said, “Remember, Meghan, practice your F’s. They need just a tiny little bit of work before they’re perfect.”
Meghan clearly lapped up the praise. The spark in her eyes showed a determination to follow the instructions to the letter. “Yes, ma’am,” she agreed cheerfully.
“See you tomorrow, Madelyn,” Kennon said warmly. “Good night, Doctor,” she murmured with a nod toward him, then, picking up her purse, she headed toward the front door.
For a moment, Simon stared after her, feeling a little disoriented and bemused, like someone who had survived a sudden, unexpected attack of unseasonable weather. He supposed, in the final analysis, it was a lucky thing that the woman had just happened by here this morning instead of, say, next week. It had made things a lot easier for him.
He thought of Edna. It was doubtful that the nanny would be completely well by morning. And he would have to get down to the hospital early. Tomorrow was the day he would meet with the other members of the Newport Cardiovascular Group.
He needed someone to take care of Madelyn and Meghan. Again.
Coming to life, Simon hurried after Kennon. “Miss Cassidy—”
Surprised to hear him calling her, Kennon turned at the front door and looked behind her. The doctor crossed to her with some alacrity. She waited until he was almost next to her, then said, “It’s Kennon.”
Why was she telling him that? “I know your first name.”
All this formality on his part definitely made her feel uncomfortable. “And if I’m going to be working here for you, I’d like you to use it.”
“'If?'” he questioned. Was she having second thoughts? Was this going to turn into a ploy for more money after all?
“Figure of speech,” Kennon conceded. “I think I can do your house justice, Dr. Sheffield.”
The different ways a house could be decorated was not even remotely high on his list of priorities. His main requirement was that it didn’t stir up any memories for him—and that it didn’t wind up being too cluttered.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” He was about to let it go at that, then decided to give her the only rule he wanted her to adhere to. “As long as the decor isn’t Early American.”
Finally, she thought triumphantly, an opinion. “You don’t like Early American?”
Actually, he didn’t. But because his late wife had favored Early American, everything in their house had been decorated in that style. There were four-poster canopied beds both in the master bedroom and the girls’ bedroom, and distressed tables served as accents in the various rooms. The kitchen table and chairs looked as if they could have come straight out of George Washington’s home. So had everything else in the house. He had wanted something more modern, but had kept his peace.
“No, I don’t,” Simon said, answering her question truthfully. He wondered if Edna had mentioned their decor in San Francisco to Kennon. He had no desire to get into any sort of discussion as to why his previous house had been decorated in Early American. Granted, Kennon Cassidy had probably the most sympathetic blue eyes he’d ever seen, but he didn’t want her sympathy, or anyone else’s for that matter.
“Good to know,” she said, looking as if she meant it. “We’ll definitely go another path,” Kennon promised. And then she flashed a pleased smile at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Doctor?”
“What wasn’t so hard?” he asked, unclear as to what she meant.
“Telling me what you like—or in this case, what you don’t like. That’s all I need,” she reiterated. “Just a few well-placed words. Hints, if you will. I’ll bring you photographs tomorrow.”
He was about to tell her that he had no interest in seeing any photographs, that as long as the furniture was functional and above all, new, that was all he required. But if it made her happy to think she had to show him photographs, so be it. There was a far more important detail to discuss.
In the background, Edna sneezed three times in succession, as if to underscore what he was about to ask and the urgency with which it needed to be regarded. “How early can you be here tomorrow?”
Kennon had no difficulty in putting two and two together quickly. Okay, so he didn’t want her for her decorating talent—something he actually hadn’t seen for himself yet—he wanted her for her other attributes. She could live
