help."
"Yes."
"Tell me something," he said quietly. "Do you always rush to the aid of any
member of the Chantry or Glow family who comes to you for help?"
She scowled. "What kind of a question is that?"
He exhaled slowly. "Forget it. You're right. It's a stupid question." One to which
he already knew the answer.
My niece is a lot like me , Rollie Chantry had said at one point during the
contract negotiations. She understands her responsibilities to the family. When
I'm gone, she'll watch out for Chantry interests .
"Jasper, I'm very sorry about what happened this afternoon. I know that it's my
fault that you're involved now."
The apology annoyed him. "It was the blackmailer's fault, not yours."
"If my disguise hadn't been so crummy, he or she would never have recognized
me and called your office to send you rushing down to the Market."
"That kind of logic makes me hungry. When do we eat?"
She blinked a couple of times at the abrupt change of topic. "What about Zara?
We need to make some plans."
"I think better on a full stomach." He got to his feet and started toward the
kitchen. "I hope you've got a microwave. We're going to need to reheat dinner. Got
any lettuce?"
She glared at him through the opening above the counter. "Lettuce?"
"As long as there's a kitchen available, I might as well make a salad to go with the
spinach lasagna I brought." He opened the refrigerator. "Good. You've got some
romaine."
"Hang on, that's my kitchen." Olivia bounced to her feet and hurried around the
corner to join him. "Give me that lettuce."
"Whatever you say." He handed her the plastic sack full of romaine.
She shot him another scowling glance as she reached up to remove a stainless
steel colander from a hook. There was an easy competency in her movements that
told him she was comfortable in a kitchen.
Satisfied that she was going to proceed with the salad, he opened the paper bag.
He removed the containers of lukewarm lasagna and the loaf of crusty, rustic-style
bread.
Olivia grudgingly pointed toward a cupboard. "The olive oil is in there." She
tipped her head slightly in the opposite direction. "Bread knife is in that drawer."
"Thanks."
For a few minutes they worked side-by-side without speaking. Jasper was aware
that Olivia kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Do you like to cook?" she finally asked. "I mean, something more than just
slicing bread and sticking take-out in a microwave?"
"I got used to kitchens after my nephews came to live with me a few years ago. It
was either feed Kirby and Paul at home or watch them grow up addicted to
hamburgers and pizza. All the books I read on the subject emphasized the
importance of kids eating at home in a family environment."
She looked intrigued. "You read books on how to raise kids?"
"As many as I could find." He stuck the lasagna into the microwave and closed
the door. "Like I said, my approach to most things is to collect as much information
as possible before I take action."
"Why did your nephews move in with you?"
"My stepbrother and his wife were killed on a skiing trip in Europe." Jasper
selected the cooking time on the face of the microwave. "There wasn't anyone else
for Kirby and Paul."
"I see." Her eyes were suddenly unreadable. "No kids of your own?"
"No." There was something about working with someone in a kitchen that broke
down the usual social barriers, Jasper reflected. Or maybe it was having a
blackmailer threaten both of you in the same note that induced a certain artificial
sense of togetherness. "My wife left a few months after Kirby and Paul moved in
with me. I never found the time to remarry."
"I know what you mean." Her voice was quiet and cool. "I was in the process of
filing for divorce when my husband died. Afterward I lost interest in the whole
concept of marriage. Then I got very busy with Light Fantastic." She shrugged.
Jasper recalled the Crawford Lee Wilder piece in West Coast Neo . The
"Yes."
"Tell me something," he said quietly. "Do you always rush to the aid of any
member of the Chantry or Glow family who comes to you for help?"
She scowled. "What kind of a question is that?"
He exhaled slowly. "Forget it. You're right. It's a stupid question." One to which
he already knew the answer.
My niece is a lot like me , Rollie Chantry had said at one point during the
contract negotiations. She understands her responsibilities to the family. When
I'm gone, she'll watch out for Chantry interests .
"Jasper, I'm very sorry about what happened this afternoon. I know that it's my
fault that you're involved now."
The apology annoyed him. "It was the blackmailer's fault, not yours."
"If my disguise hadn't been so crummy, he or she would never have recognized
me and called your office to send you rushing down to the Market."
"That kind of logic makes me hungry. When do we eat?"
She blinked a couple of times at the abrupt change of topic. "What about Zara?
We need to make some plans."
"I think better on a full stomach." He got to his feet and started toward the
kitchen. "I hope you've got a microwave. We're going to need to reheat dinner. Got
any lettuce?"
She glared at him through the opening above the counter. "Lettuce?"
"As long as there's a kitchen available, I might as well make a salad to go with the
spinach lasagna I brought." He opened the refrigerator. "Good. You've got some
romaine."
"Hang on, that's my kitchen." Olivia bounced to her feet and hurried around the
corner to join him. "Give me that lettuce."
"Whatever you say." He handed her the plastic sack full of romaine.
She shot him another scowling glance as she reached up to remove a stainless
steel colander from a hook. There was an easy competency in her movements that
told him she was comfortable in a kitchen.
Satisfied that she was going to proceed with the salad, he opened the paper bag.
He removed the containers of lukewarm lasagna and the loaf of crusty, rustic-style
bread.
Olivia grudgingly pointed toward a cupboard. "The olive oil is in there." She
tipped her head slightly in the opposite direction. "Bread knife is in that drawer."
"Thanks."
For a few minutes they worked side-by-side without speaking. Jasper was aware
that Olivia kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Do you like to cook?" she finally asked. "I mean, something more than just
slicing bread and sticking take-out in a microwave?"
"I got used to kitchens after my nephews came to live with me a few years ago. It
was either feed Kirby and Paul at home or watch them grow up addicted to
hamburgers and pizza. All the books I read on the subject emphasized the
importance of kids eating at home in a family environment."
She looked intrigued. "You read books on how to raise kids?"
"As many as I could find." He stuck the lasagna into the microwave and closed
the door. "Like I said, my approach to most things is to collect as much information
as possible before I take action."
"Why did your nephews move in with you?"
"My stepbrother and his wife were killed on a skiing trip in Europe." Jasper
selected the cooking time on the face of the microwave. "There wasn't anyone else
for Kirby and Paul."
"I see." Her eyes were suddenly unreadable. "No kids of your own?"
"No." There was something about working with someone in a kitchen that broke
down the usual social barriers, Jasper reflected. Or maybe it was having a
blackmailer threaten both of you in the same note that induced a certain artificial
sense of togetherness. "My wife left a few months after Kirby and Paul moved in
with me. I never found the time to remarry."
"I know what you mean." Her voice was quiet and cool. "I was in the process of
filing for divorce when my husband died. Afterward I lost interest in the whole
concept of marriage. Then I got very busy with Light Fantastic." She shrugged.
Jasper recalled the Crawford Lee Wilder piece in West Coast Neo . The
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