He liked her even more and didn’t mind laughing along with her. “I do.”
“So if you aren’t too bothered by it, I’d like for you to inform us each day how many hours we can expect in the car on the road.”
“I can do that.” He glanced at Miss Brigman who still wouldn’t soften her gaze to him. “But be forewarned that some of the borders take a bit longer than they used to. Your papers will get quite a looking over.” He sent another smile to Miss Brigman, hoping to put her at ease and stop that continuous frown in his direction.
She didn’t smile in return, but her gaze softened ... maybe? Or perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part.
“Are you both ready to depart?” He hoped they were. Getting on the road meant his assignment was underway. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was best if they didn’t know how eager he really was.
“Yes, Mr. Zimmerman.” Miss Frappier nodded.
Relief spiraled through him. At last. “Excellent. Also, I know ‘Mr. Zimmerman’ is quite the mouthful. Please, feel free to call meRick when we are in the car. It’s easier.” He caught a slight lift of her lips in the rearview mirror. A little thrill danced up his spine—
What was he doing? He wasn’t here to make friends. Or to find the client attractive.
Miss Frappier inclined her head toward him. “Then I insist you call me Chaisley—at least while we are in the car and not surrounded by others.” Her Dutch was consistently perfect. How had she learned to speak with a flawless accent? Suspicion replaced the earlier spark of intrigue.
“Call me Melanie.” This time the assistant did offer a slight smile. “At some point during our time on the road, I should like to speak to you about ways we can aid Miss Fr—Chaisley. Since we are in a secure space, I can answer questions you might have.”
“I’m not sure I understand?” He pulled out of the long drive and onto the road. Was there more to the story?
“Chaisley told me she shared with you that she is blind. There are many ways I help her to navigate when we are in unfamiliar locations.”
“Oh! Of course.” He shook his head. Not what he’d been thinking. “I will do anything and everything I can—”
“Hold on.” Chaisley held up a hand. “First, you need to know that most of the time, I don’t need help. Ineverwish to draw attention to myself. Which means I try to do things as normally as possible. I don’t want to be coddled. While I haven’t intentionally kept this a secret, as I mentioned previously, we don’t go around announcing it. There’s no need.”
A glance in the rearview mirror revealed her jaw had tensed. Clearly a sore spot there.
“Yes, Miss Frappier—I mean, Chaisley. No coddling.”
“Second, you must be exact. Every time. It will be harder for you because Melanie is the same height as I, so her stride is the same length as mine and she has developed an accurate sense of distance. That’s why most of this will fall to Melanie, but as mydriver—and in case she becomes ill or something of the sort—you need to be able to do the same things.”
“And is that why you didn’t use the cane I saw in your stateroom on the ship?” He might as well ask the question while they were having this discussion. When he’d first spotted it, he’d thought one of them was injured.
“Very astute, Mr. Zimmerman.”
He straightened a bit. Had Miss Brig—Melanie just praised him?
“Rick,” he offered again.
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “All right, Rick. I’m impressed you noticed. In all honesty, Chaisley can get around just as well as I can when she’s by herself and she uses the walking stick, but that is neither here nor there. There will be crowds clamoring to see her perform, all of whom have no idea that she’s blind. As well-meaning as some fans can be, they can also be a hindrance, and that is where we might need to enlist your help.”
Hmm. Had he underestimated the magnitude of Chaisley Frappier’s fame? He’d assumed only the wealthy or royalty indulged in concerts these days. But masses of fans? That would be a sight to see. “Yes, miss. I can do that.”
“Good.” Melanie relaxed into the seat. “But let’s save that chat for a stop for luncheon.”
He nodded as the two women whispered between themselves.
Curious. They switched from Dutch to French. And again ... flawless. His own couldn’t even compare, and he’d studied for a decade with an expert linguist.
Why wouldn’t they speak in English—wasn’t it their native tongue? His mind swirled back to his discussion with Chaisley that first day in the car. Ah, that’s right. She’d discovered that he’d lied about not understanding English even though she hadn’t forced him to tell the truth on that score.
Which meant that whatever they spoke of, they wished to keepsecret. Good thing he spoke French as well. The bad thing was that their voices were low and hard to distinguish over the sound of the engine.
His mind raced. Was Chaisley so private a person that she didn’t want to say anything about her schedule or concerts in front of her own driver? Or did she have something to hide? Was that even a possibility? Someone of her fame and clout ... it wasn’t out of the question.
He listened as he drove several kilometers, but nothing stood out. They spoke of her grandmother, a doctor friend, and looking forward to seeing them both again.
