“I’m Rachel. Do you live in the Carthage?” The Carthage was the name of the building, supposedly chosen to evoke images of strength and engineering excellence.
The youngster vigorously bobbed her head. “We used to live in Seattle before Daddy went to work in New York, but I asked if we could come back because this is the place I like best. It’s...” She chewed on her lip. “It’s where I remember Mama best.”
Livvie seemed remarkably articulate and self-possessed for a child her age, though Rachel was hardly an expert on kids. “It was nice of your daddy to do that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ready for our walk, Livvie?” a young woman asked, coming up to them. She looked at Rachel. “Hello, I’m Gemma.”
“Gemma is my nanny, ’cept I’m too old for a nanny, so she just takes care of me,” Livvie volunteered.
“Hi, Gemma. I’m Rachel Clarion. I live on the second floor.” Rachel deliberately provided the information, figuring a nanny worth her salt would want to know exactly who had been talking with her charge.
“Daddy’s girlfriend was awful mad when we moved home,” Livvie said blithely, “but Gemma was happy because she grew up here and wants to go back to college.”
“Sweetie, you shouldn’t talk about your father that way to a stranger,” Gemma cautioned. She had a clear, melodic voice that probably appealed to a child.
“Why not?”
“Because it... It’s because some things are private.”
“Everybody knows. I heard Daddy say on the phone that Sandra whined to the newspaper people about us leaving.”
Rachel suspected that explaining privacy to a seven-year-old was like trying to bail water with a sieve. It would be even harder if Livvie’s father was well-known. As for his “whined to the newspaper” comment? The word evoked an image of a man who was impatient with women, maybe even scornful of them.
“Gemma, how long have you been a nanny?” she asked as a distraction.
“Since Livvie was a baby. When did you move to the Carthage?”
“A few weeks ago. I grew up in Washington, but lived in Los Angeles for a number of years. It’s nice to be back.”
“I know how you feel.”
Livvie tugged on Rachel’s arm. “Do you want to go with us? I’m putting my new boat in the water. It has a motor and everything!”
As Livvie held up the toy, there was a vibration under their feet. Someone across the lobby called, “Earthquake,” and Gemma let out a gasp.
“I’m sure we’re okay,” Rachel said quickly, “but let’s get over by that column.” She knew that the Carthage had been reinforced to withstand earthquakes and the central columns were part of the structural support.
“May-maybe we should go outside,” Gemma protested.
“The column,” Rachel repeated firmly, shepherding the other woman and Livvie close to the column. The possibility of flowerpots falling from the balconies above bothered her more than any chance the ceiling might come down in such a minor quake.
In less than ten seconds the shaking stopped. Her face ashen, Gemma had pulled Livvie close.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Rachel assured quietly. “We’re fine. That probably wasn’t even a 3.0.”
“I know. It’s just that when I was a kid I fell down a flight of stairs during the Nisqually quake and broke my leg.”
“That was a strong one.” Rachel remembered the Nisqually quake—it was hard not to remember being in such a powerful earthquake. “But this one mostly felt like a great big truck driving by, making the ground rumble a little. Right, Livvie?” she asked in an encouraging tone.
“Yup.” Livvie didn’t seem afraid, more excited. “Is there going to be a tidal wave?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then can we sail my boat now?”
Gemma laughed, visibly regaining her composure. She seemed nice, if unsure of herself. “I guess that puts things in perspective. Let’s go.”
When they reached the lake, Livvie focused on putting her small remote-controlled motorboat into the water.
“What is your college major?” Rachel asked as they kept a careful watch on the little girl.
“Childhood development. That’s why getting a job as a nanny seemed a good way to work my way through school.”
“There’s nothing like practical experience,” Rachel agreed.
“Right, but I didn’t want to leave my job when Simon...Mr. Kessler decided to go back East. When we got there he decided on homeschooling for Livvie and hired a teacher. Even so, it... Um, it didn’t seem practical to attend college in New York, but I’m starting classes again here in January,” she added awkwardly.
Rachel wondered how Gemma felt about her boss. The way she’d said his name had an odd tone and Rachel couldn’t decide whether it was affection or wariness. Well, good luck to her, and to anyone who had dreams of a romantic happily-ever-after.
SIMON KESSLER WAS frustrated by the unusually heavy Saturday traffic. He’d expected to stay at the office later, but even though Gemma had called and assured him that Livvie wasn’t upset by the small earthquake, he’d decided to come home and spend the afternoon with her.
At length he drove his Volvo into the building’s underground garage and got into the elevator. It was used by all the Carthage residents, but the top floor could only be accessed by a special key.
The elevator opened into an entrance foyer. He unlocked the front door and the first thing he heard was his daughter chattering happily away. Livvie was the most important part of his life, the best thing he and Olivia had ever done together. But now his complex, brilliant, wonderful wife was gone, and he was a widower and single father. He still missed Olivia so much that at times he thought he’d choke on the pain.
“Where’s my Livi-kin-kinnie?” he said, walking into the living room.
He stopped. A stranger was there, a woman who looked vaguely familiar but was still a stranger. She sat on the floor by the coffee table, while Livvie fussed over the tiny bone china tea set that had been one of her birthday presents when she turned seven. Quickly he glanced around and was relieved to see Gemma seated in the corner with a book. He would have been upset if he’d found Livvie alone with someone they didn’t know.
“Daddy,” Livvie exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Have tea with us. Pleeeeze? Gemma has to study and it’s a much better party with more people.”
He couldn’t resist her big brown eyes pleading with him.
“You talked me into it.” Simon chose the opposite side of the coffee table, preferring not to sit close to the woman. The spot was
