Lydia Lane. Judith Bowen
to know if she could meet her for lunch on Saturday, to go over some last-minute details for Charlotte’s wedding. Yes, that would be fantastic; she’d return Zoey’s call after she’d had something to eat. No messages for Domestica.
It was so odd, thinking about Sam Pereira after all these years. Steve never mentioned him. Until yesterday morning when she’d had coffee with Candace Downing, after the show was taped, she’d even forgotten about that little crush she’d had on him thirteen years ago.
After graduation, she’d gone to the summer job at Jasper Park Lodge where she’d met Zoey and Charlotte, who were still her best friends. Sam had obviously joined the real world, had a daughter and an ex to prove it, and she was no longer a virgin. She’d held out until twenty-two, a lot longer than most of her friends, and then given herself, heart, body and soul to a park ranger she’d met while working at a kids’ summer camp in Algonquin Park. That had lasted two months, before Lydia realized he was more interested in bears than he was in her.
Since then, she’d had several boyfriends. She was currently without a man in her life, hadn’t really been serious about anyone since Joel Monday, a guitarist and part-time clerk in a music store, who’d told her after they’d been seeing each other for over a year that he’d done some soul-searching and decided he was finally ready to make the big commitment. It was embarrassing to recall. Lydia had been poised, heart racing, wondering if she’d say “yes”—and then he’d said he was committing to his career and going to Chicago to join a boy band. Boy band! He was twenty-seven!
Since then—nearly three years—she’d started Domestica and had been too busy to invest much energy in her love life. Who had been her last date casual or otherwise? Let’s see—Tag Blanshard, the circus guy. Trained trick horses or something. He’d gone off to Germany on a circus contract and she hadn’t heard from him again. He’d been fun. Weird, but fun. What was it about her that attracted such oddballs?
Lydia glanced into her living area. Charlie, her lovebird, chirped his loud “how ya doin”’ greeting. The “What’s New with Candy Lou?” tape stuck out of the VCR slot. Maybe she’d watch it again tonight, after a nice supper and a long bath. She’d plan tomorrow while she watched; there was only tomorrow’s breakfast club to get through before Charlotte’s wedding. Charlotte getting married! She almost had to pinch herself to believe it.
First things first. Lydia let Charlie out of his cage to fly around the loft, then she poured herself a glass of Australian chardonnay and put the bottle back in the refrigerator. The phone rang.
She briefly considered letting the machine take it, but after the third ring she picked up. “Hello.”
“Is this Domestica?”
“Yes, it is. Can I help you?” Good—she crossed her fingers for luck—some new business.
“Lydia Lane?” She felt it coming, like a buzz in her elbow joints…. A sexy male chuckle. “Hey, you’ll never guess who this is.”
She thought about guessing, but he didn’t give her time.
“Steve’s friend—Sam Pereira. Remember me?”
CHAPTER THREE
FOR A SPLIT SECOND, Lydia thought about playing dumb, but decided that was giving Sam Pereira more importance in her life than he had: he was a potential client, according to his ex. That was all. “Sure I do. How are you, Sam?” she asked pleasantly.
“Fine, fine. Yourself?”
“Very well.”
“Married? Kids?”
“No.” She racked her brain for something to say. Funny how you could obsess about a situation like this—well, she had when she was fifteen—and come up with a million clever remarks but when the time came, your mind went blank. “How about you?”
“Divorced. One daughter.”
“That’s nice—not about the divorce, I mean. I meant your daughter, that must be nice.” She took a deep breath. “So, do you still see Steve much?”
“Now and then. We spent some time together last summer near Peterborough. I was with him and Avie—you remember Avie Berkowitz?”
“No.” She remembered a Jill Berkowitz, who was probably related.
“He graduated with me and Steve. We went fishing, the three of us and my little girl. Rented a cabin for a week. Caught some northern pike.”
“Great.” Lydia was starting to feel silly. Where was this conversation going? “Well, it’s good to hear from you, Sam, after all this time—”
“Fourteen years.”
Had it been that long? Thirteen, Lydia had thought. “As a matter of fact, Candace Downing mentioned your name to me yesterday.”
“That’s what I’m calling about,” he said quickly, the charm evaporating as he picked up on what she hoped were her cool, attention-to-business tones. “Candace is, uh, she’s my ex, you know.”
“Yes, she told me. She mentioned you might call me regarding Domestica—”
“That’s it. Candace thinks I could use your company’s services. Organizing my house or whatever it is you do. I’m not a hundred percent convinced but I told her I’d talk to you.”
“I understand. Domestica isn’t for everyone,” Lydia said stiffly. Honestly, she was so tired of people being skeptical about the joys and rewards of making a house a home, even people who desperately needed it.
“That’s what I told Candace. Can we get together to talk about it?”
“This is a busy season but I think I could work you in.” It would have been a lie, except that with Charlotte’s wedding, this actually was a busy time. “We could discuss your needs tomorrow or Saturday. Or toward the middle of next week? I have a wedding to go to on Monday.”
There was a horrifying split-second pause. “My…needs?”
“What you want me to do. You know the services Domestica offers clients?” she said hastily. From the frying pan into the fire!
And, of course, Sam didn’t miss a beat. He chuckled. “Hey, for a minute there…”
“Does tomorrow afternoon work for you?” she interjected frostily. Really! Mr. Charming hadn’t changed his ways much. “Say, two o’clock?”
“Two o’clock is fine. My place or yours?”
“It’d better be your place, Sam, since it’s your place I’ll be organizing, right?”
“Right. See you at two.” He gave her directions to his house and Lydia put the phone down, realizing that her hand was shaking. She wished she didn’t know him. She wished she was meeting him for the first time and could safely call him Mr. Pereira, as she addressed all her clients. It was part of the professional attitude she tried to maintain, which was hard when so many people seemed to automatically look down on the “menial work” they thought she did, even though they were paying big bucks for her expertise.
Just hearing his voice after all this time…
Would she be able to pull it off? The cool, competent Ms. Lydia Lane? Of course she would. This was just another job and a particularly interesting one, considering what Candace had said. It was ridiculous to even think anything else! She was no besotted fifteen-year-old who went tongue-tied and weak-kneed at the sight of a macho guy on a noisy motorcycle.
Not anymore.
And, besides, what was she worried about? He had no idea she’d ever had a crush on him. As far as he was concerned, she was just Steve Lane’s little sister. She was lucky he’d remembered her at all.
SHE HAD the breakfast club assignment in the morning, which meant allowing time to zip back to the loft and change out of her uniform