“Thank you.” He showed her the family room, which was nearest to the front door but having French doors that could be closed to contain noise, then led her to the kitchen, open to the living and dining areas. He didn’t use the room designed to be a home office on this level, preferring one upstairs that had a lake view. There were empty bedrooms upstairs, too. He kept those doors closed to keep the house from feeling any lonelier than it already did.
The tour continued upstairs to Molly’s bedroom. Anna’s discomfiture hadn’t abated, and neither had her kids’. Even Jenna had been struck silent, which he had the impression wasn’t a natural state for her.
Nate’s bedroom was just beyond Molly’s, the door standing open. He saw Anna sneak a peek, and was glad she couldn’t see much from this angle. He surely didn’t want to picture her in his bedroom. Her presence in the house unsettled him enough already, in part because he hadn’t managed to squelch images of her not only in his room, but also in his bed. However, most of his discomfiture was the result of him trying to see his home through her eyes. His guilt revved into a higher gear.
Did she feel like the beggar maid, brought to the palace by King Cophetua? Nice thought. If he’d made a different choice, Anna would still have a husband and her own house.
Assuming, of course, he had made a difference in the day’s outcome instead of paying more attention to texts and emails coming in on his phone than he did to his daughter.
He and Sonja hadn’t split because of his dedication to his job—but it had played a part. Remembering what she’d said about wanting a life still stung, even though he knew damn well she wouldn’t have been happy if he’d decided he could cut back on work and brought home a lower income.
Jenna broke the silence. “I like your bedroom.” Still in the hall, peering into Molly’s room, she sounded wistful. “Can I play with your Barbie house?”
Nate wasn’t sure Molly ever did.
His daughter hesitated. “It’s okay if you’re careful with my stuff.”
“There’s no reason Jenna would be playing in here when she isn’t with you,” Anna said firmly. “Your dad said we’d have our own apartment.”
Molly’s eyes darted to Anna. “But we can play together when I get home from school, can’t we?”
Anna smiled. “Sure.”
“Speaking of the apartment...” he said, sounding like an overenthusiastic tour guide.
Jenna gave a final, lingering look into a pink-and-purple bedroom that was stocked with entirely too many toys. Many Molly had left behind when she moved out with Sonja. He doubted she’d ever touched a lot of the dolls and stuffed animals.
Had he satisfied himself with the notion that if he bought her everything a little girl could want, she wouldn’t notice that Daddy was hardly ever around?
Only one of many uncomfortable realizations he’d been hit with since Molly had come so close to dying.
He wished now he didn’t have to show the Graingers where they’d be staying. The contrast was too stark.
* * *
THE APARTMENT WASN’T BIG, but Anna had sighed in relief when she saw it. It felt...snug. Like a cocoon, a refuge.
Once home, she worked for hours that evening after tucking in Josh and Jenna. She moved room to room, deciding what they’d need and hastily packing it. She’d do the kids’ bedrooms tomorrow morning after getting Josh off to school. Tonight she whizzed through the kitchen first, boxing up the necessities except for what they’d use for breakfast. She tagged bright pink sticky notes onto the furniture she thought would fit into the apartment over the three-car garage on Nate’s estate. That’s all she could think to call a home that should have been in a magazine.
The apartment could be accessed from the outside, but also had a staircase that opened in the main house by the kitchen. Servants stairs, only not as steep and narrow as she knew they’d been in eighteenth-and nineteenth-century homes. Same principle, though.
Currently working in the dining room, she tossed two sets of place mats into a box, but left everything else in the buffet to go to storage. Or get rid of. When had she last used the set of eight crystal goblets that had been a wedding gift?
Her bedroom didn’t take long, either. Everything that had been on the closet shelf was already packed in totes piled in the garage. She retrieved suitcases from the garage and filled the big one with her clothes and shoes. The medium-sized suitcase should handle a basic wardrobe for Josh—his sports stuff could go in the duffel—and Jenna had her own small pink rolling suitcase.
Both of them would want some of their toys, games and books, but they wouldn’t need all. Especially books—they’d visit the library more often.
In front of her dresser, she sank to her butt in sudden exhaustion and leaned against her bed. This was crazy. Why had she agreed to do it?
She looked around her bedroom, both familiar and, weirdly, not. Kyle’s half of the closet was already empty, as was his dresser. During the sleepless night after her discovery that he’d cashed out the life-insurance policy, she’d grabbed garbage bags and gone through all his stuff. She’d dropped most of it at a thrift store the very next day. Part of her was grateful for the anger that had carried her through such a horrible task. She’d packed a single box of his things that she or one of the kids might someday want, including a few shirts that had evoked him so vividly she had pressed the soft fabric to her face and cried.
Her mood was odd tonight, maybe because she was so tired Anna wondered if Kyle would even know her now. She didn’t belong in this bedroom anymore. The bed was going into storage; she’d decide later whether she wanted to replace it. Her dresser could go in the bedroom closet in the apartment. In fact, she’d take over the closet, since the kids didn’t need to hang up any of their clothes. They’d share one dresser—Josh’s, since it was taller—and the coat closet was the perfect place for his sports equipment. She hoped Molly didn’t mind hanging around the soccer field during his practices and games.
Still feeling strange, Anna told herself it was too late for second thoughts. Tomorrow night, she’d sleep on her sofa in that small, bare apartment. She’d work for a man who made her uncomfortable in a thousand ways, starting with his too-perceptive gray eyes and obvious wealth.
No, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t see much of him, anyway. And why get worked up about what was really only going to be an interlude?
* * *
NATE’S CONCENTRATION WASN’T the best Tuesday.
He’d started the day by calling the elementary school in Seattle where Molly had spent only a few weeks to let them know he was withdrawing her. Then he’d driven her to the school she’d attended for kindergarten and first grade, explained the situation and enrolled her. Trying to put her at ease, the principal decided to fit her into Josh’s class. Nate didn’t comment, but wasn’t so sure that would help. Surrounded by his crowd of buddies, Josh might not be willing to speak to a mere girl. Nate reminded himself that she’d probably know some of the other kids in the class.
He and the principal walked Molly to her new second-grade classroom. Absolute silence fell as they entered. Every single student stared as the principal explained quietly to the teacher,
