“Can I help?” I ask Jill as I enter the kitchen.
“If you like. Since it’s just you tonight, I thought I’d make your favourite.”
“Salmon?”
“Yes. You can get a start on the salad if you like.”
“I can make my own dinner,” I say, “if you’d like to get away early.”
“That’s fine, dear. I have nowhere else to be. I usually travel with Mr. Cavanagh, but he insisted I stay here and care for you.”
“That was sweet of him. Chris stayed behind too so he can take me to work.”
“Mr. Cavanagh thinks the world of you.”
“I think the world of him too.”
“Do you have enough salmon for two?”
“Oh, are you expecting company?”
“No, I was hoping you could join me for dinner.”
“I’d like that,” she says, smiling.
“Tell me about your family, Jill?”
“If you mean kids, then there’s nothing to tell, but I have a sister who lives in Perth. I don’t see her as often as I’d like, but we talk on the phone a few nights a week.”
“You never married?” She falls silent. “I’m sorry if I’m prying.”
“Not at all,” she says. “I guess the right man never came along.”
“That’s a shame.”
She shrugs. “I don’t have many regrets—not becoming a mother, maybe—but otherwise I’m happy with the life I’ve lived.”
Once the salad is made, I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Would you like a glass?”
“I’m not sure how Mr. Cavanagh would feel about me drinking on the job.”
“I think he considers you more like family than an employee, Jill. Besides, you’re my dinner guest tonight and it’s no fun drinking on your own.”
“Okay, you twisted my arm.”
We no sooner sit down to eat, when I hear the ding of the lift as it arrives on our floor. My heart starts to race. Did Logan change his mind and decide to fly back tonight? He didn’t mention anything when I spoke with him earlier.
Standing, I rush towards the foyer, but am filled with disappointment when I see an attractive older lady standing there. A key is required to get up to this floor, but I know after his uncle’s impromptu arrival last week that Logan isn’t the only person who holds one.
“Oh, hi,” I say, coming to an abrupt halt. “Are you looking for Logan? I’m Brooke, his girlfriend.”
“I know exactly who you are,” she snaps.
“And you are?” I ask, taken aback by her abruptness.
“I’m Kathleen, Logan’s aunt… Johnathan’s wife.” Although she sounds very posh, I don’t miss the disdain in her voice or the disgust in her eyes as she looks me up and down.
“I see.” John must have told her about me, so I gather this isn’t a friendly visit.