“There’s a rocker in her room that I sit in when I give Jennie her nighttime bottle. That sends her to sleep most nights.”
“But what about her parents?”
Candace looked up to find her mother watching her, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“Where are her parents?” Catherine asked again.
Drawing a deep breath, Candace said, “Her mother is dead.”
“Oh, poor little tyke. What about her father?”
“He’s a businessman—he owns a string of garden centers that keep him busy.”
“That’s a shame.” Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “I used to visit Valentine’s Garden Centers. I loved buying plants—particularly my roses.”
Candace stared at her mother. “I work for Nick Valentine,” she said slowly, the air that had been so summery suddenly chilling her. She shook the eerie sensation off.
Her mother wouldn’t—couldn’t—know that Nick and Candace were Jennie’s parents. It wasn’t possible. Catherine only remembered the centers because she’d been an avid gardener before the accident.
“In fact, we recently took Jennie to one of the centers—she loved the ducks.”
“There must’ve been swans, too.”
“Oh, there were.” Was her mother starting to remember? Months ago the doctors had said that her mother might never remember things from the past, so each recollection was a moment to treasure and be grateful for. “There were geese, too—one pecked Jennie.” That memory was one Candace would sooner forget.
But there would be other memories to replace that. Like the sight of Jennie in her grandmother’s lap. This was a moment Candace would treasure forever.
By the time Candace pulled the station wagon up in front of the Valentine mansion, the late-afternoon rays of sun had taken on a golden hue. The light warmed the stark lines of the residence, softening the hard, sculpted angles of the design.
She—and Jennie—were exhausted. But in Candace’s case it was the exhaustion of deep satisfaction, the feeling of a mission accomplished.
The glow didn’t dissipate when the front door opened and Nick appeared.
“So you’ve decided to come back,” he said from the bottom of the stairs as she clambered out of the car.
A quiver of apprehension fluttered in her stomach. Nick Valentine always looked crisply immaculate, but the man who faced her appeared nowhere near as well-put-together as usual. He was wearing suit pants, his jacket had been discarded and the white striped business shirt hung out, giving him an unusually rumpled look. She noticed that the top two buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a triangle of golden skin at his throat. Candace jerked her gaze upward, and clashed with a stormy pair of navy-blue eyes.
“Where have you been?”
She couldn’t have found her voice even if she’d tried.
“I’ve been calling you for hours,” he bit out.
Oh, no! Candace scrabbled in the side pocket of her tote and extricated her phone. Switching it on, she was met by a chorus of beeps signifying missed messages.
“My phone was off.” Remorse filled her. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t realize.”
A vague memory of switching the phone off before entering her mom’s room surfaced. She’d been so preoccupied she’d forgotten to turn it back on.
She could hardly blame Nick for being irate.
Though normally he would never have noticed her absence. He never left the office early—that was one of the golden rules of Nick Valentine’s busy life. Everyone agreed on that. Jilly, Mrs. Busby, his chauffeur. Their schedules had all revolved around his very set hours.
Yet today that had changed…
“Was it something urgent you were calling about? Is everything okay?”
The tumble of questions was met with a short terse nod. Candace took in the way his hair stood up, as though he’d been running his fingers through the almost black strands.
“If everything’s okay, then why are you home?”
As the words left her mouth, it occurred to her that those were not the words of an employee. She sounded like a wife.
Flushing uncomfortably, she muttered, “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“It is your business all right. You’re the reason I came home. I canceled a meeting with a new supplier, because my sister wanted to see you.”
“She wanted to see me?” Candace frowned.
Why?
“Alison’s been concerned about you.”
“Oh.” So much had happened it seemed like a century since that awful confrontation that his sister had witnessed. “I’m sorry we were out.” Candace started up the stairs, Jennie firmly clasped in her arms.