It was the first of July and even hotter than Alex and Mila’s engagement party had been in early June. Gideon had agreed to a charity Fourth of July gala on his property prior to this mess with Benito, so the house and grounds were filled with people decorating and…Is that guy measuring the archway?
“Dude, what are you doing?”
The tiny man spun on his heel with a squeak. “Mr. Hendrix?—
“Garrand,” I corrected.
“Apologies, you startled me.”
I hummed. “What are you doing?” I gestured to his measuring tape.
“Oh, well, as a contingency, I need to make sure the interior is set up in case of weather complications.”
I furrowed my brow. “And are you expecting giants to be walking through the door?”
“What?” He cocked his head, then laughed. “No, no. If people are to enter, I wanted to be sure the cooling fans would fit through the entrances.”
“Cooling fans…” I spun around, desperate to find a more competent adult to handle this. “Danny!” He’d do.
“Sir?”
I rolled my eyes, hating being called that. “This is…”
“Pierre.” The man was all teeth.
“Of course. Danny, this is Pierre, and he’s measuring the archway for cooling fans in case throngs of people come into Gideon’s home where his children rest their weary heads. Perhaps you can assist him?”
Danny sighed. “Right.” He placed a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “Allow me to explain how that won’t be happening.”
I watched them walk away, glad I’d handed that disaster to someone else.
The sound of rapid footsteps caught my attention as Olivia turned the corner, rushing to the door.
“Whoa.” I intercepted, scooping her up and making her giggle. “Where you going, little girl?”
“Penny, let me down. Jennifer is here.” She wiggled.
“Oh, okay, but you don’t go letting anyone in this house. You know the rules. Go to the piano; I’ll let her in.”
“Kay-kay.”
I dropped her gently and moved to the main entrance. Jennifer stood there, her bag perched on her forearm and apinched expression. She rarely smiled, and I wondered what Olivia even liked about her. Sure, Livy was getting better, but she was a long way off from being Mozart.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Everton.”
“Please, call me Jennifer.” Her grin was saccharine sweet as if she were forced to practice it because it wasn’t something that came easy to her.
“Right, Jennifer. Please come in. Olivia is at the piano waiting for you.”
“Very good.”
She rushed on by, her vanilla and rose perfume swirling around my nose. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it also wasn’t a scent I favored.
I followed closely behind and leaned against the threshold of the room Gideon had turned into her practice area. It was soundproofed, thankfully, but we never shut the door when she was with anyone other than her family. We’d have to endure for the hour Jennifer was here.
“Hi, Jennifer.”
“Hey, squirt.”
