Her Reason To Stay. Anna Adams

you on your way to work?” Daphne asked.

      “I had a meeting, but I’m planning to look for something like a job.”

      “Like a job?”

      “You know, one that pays.” Raina sat across the table. “My mother’s health began deteriorating after I finished college, so I helped her keep up with her charity work. We’re close to D.C., you know, but we’re such a small town in a small county. Our social services don’t always stretch to help everyone who needs them.” She smoothed her perfect hair. “When Mother couldn’t do everything she wanted, I did what she asked.”

      “That’s good work.”

      “But it was my mother’s. Not that I resented being her right hand. I enjoy helping people.”

      “Who have you been helping? Children?”

      “And adults. Anyone who doesn’t have a job. Anyone who needs something to eat.” She looked away and her uncomfortable expression made Daphne wonder if Raina thought she needed help, too.

      “I’m fine. I don’t have your kind of money, but I don’t need to be rescued.”

      Raina met her gaze straight on. “I wasn’t thinking of you that way. But I knew you’d take it personally.” She gripped another steamer trunk-size purse, this one in pale pink that matched her suit. “Remember, I accused you of coming for my money and I refused you before you got a chance to ask.”

      “That’s true.” Daphne sipped her coffee. “I guess that proves something.”

      “That I’m tactless?”

      “No. That it’s easier to care for people you don’t know.” Daphne thought about all the people she’d assisted by selecting the juries that freed them. It had been great. She’d thought she was helping the innocent find justice until she’d actually learned the truth about her last client.

      “I’d like to help you if you’d let me.” Raina flipped her bag open. She pulled out a square opaque plastic container, topped with a blue lid. “To make up for my heavy hand, I’ll admit I brought you breakfast. I’m sure they didn’t feed you at that hotel.”

      “Let’s ask Patrick if anyone would be foolish enough to eat there,” Daphne said without thinking.

      “He told me you were upset that I’d sent him.”

      “Not upset.”

      “You had every right to be. I don’t know why I didn’t come myself. Maybe then you’d believe I want you to stay with me.”

      Her sister’s face revealed her regret. Daphne let her qualms go and leaned across the table to touch the container. “You cooked for me?”

      “Not exactly.” Raina popped the lid. “I didn’t make it although I’m an excellent chef. But our cook made an egg casserole with prosciutto and Parmesan this morning—”

      “Our cook?” Daphne pictured Patrick spooning something from a silver dish across a long table from Raina. Did he and his son live with her?

      “Mine now, I guess.” Raina’s expression tensed and Daphne patted her hand.

      “You mean she worked for your mother and you? I’m sorry.”

      “Who’d you think might be living with me?”

      Daphne wasn’t about to utter Patrick’s name. “No one.”

      Raina’s skin stretched even more tautly across her high cheekbones. “Funny that we’re hurting each other even when we don’t want to. I’m not seeing Patrick Gannon. He’s been my best friend since childhood. His parents were my mother and father’s closest friends.”

      “He says he’s divorced.”

      “And he’ll be dealing with Lisa, who’s no picnic, until Will is out of college or older.”

      She took another container from her purse and popped that lid, too, revealing fresh-cut strawberries, blueberries, grapes, pineapple and melon, all very tempting. Daphne licked her lips. She could see how Eve might fall for an apple.

      “What’s with Patrick and his son?” she asked.

      “His ex-wife did horrible things. Bad enough to ensure that she lost custody of Will. He and Patrick are both trying to get over her.” Another box held utensils. “She thought I was having an affair with him, too.”

      “Were you?”

      “You’re blunt.”

      “We’re getting to know each other.”

      “I never had an affair with my best friend, who was married and the father of a young son. I have some morals.”

      “I’m sure you do, but things happen. People are complex.”

      “Not me. Not that complex.” Raina waved at the bowls. “Eat up.”

      Daphne pulled one closer. “Okay. I’ll interrogate you later, but people who say they aren’t complex usually are.” She studied the containers. “Are you going to share this with me?”

      “I already ate. You should take better care of yourself. My mother believed that old adage about breakfast being the most important meal of the day.”

      “You really do miss her.” Daphne’s own maternal role models had been so terrifying she’d been glad to escape.

      Raina exposed her pain with a brief, sharp nod.

      “You’re different today,” Daphne said. “A mix of yesterday morning and afternoon.”

      “I didn’t know what to expect yesterday. In the morning, I assumed you’d come for the money, but then I was determined to make you stay.”

      “Make me?”

      “I managed, didn’t I?” Her smile melted most of the barriers around Daphne’s heart. “By last night, I had time to think. I feel a bit awkward this morning. Don’t you?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Believing that you want to know me, but you don’t expect anything else from me seemed gullible, considering.”

      “But now you trust me? How did you make that change so quickly?”

      “I made a start.” Raina plucked a strawberry from the box and popped it into her mouth. “And I’m hoping for the best.”

      “Finally, I see why Patrick is so protective of you.”

      Raina didn’t answer, just looked at her like “What are you saying?”

      “You’re innocent. An unkind person could take advantage of you.”

      “Come on. I’m tired of hearing that. I’m as mature as any other woman my age. I’ve had a life.” Raina passed a white brocade napkin. “Did you and Patrick discuss a job?”

      Daphne slid the napkin into her lap, anxious that no one else should glimpse it. The food was a delightful surprise—even though bringing one’s own food into a café was inappropriate—but the costly linen felt a little too much.

      She picked up one of the heavy forks. “There’s an A on the handle.”

      “For Abernathy.” Raina reached for the newspaper, scanning the three positions Daphne had circled. “What about the job?”

      “I’m not going to work for Patrick. This really is the family silver?”

      “We eat with it if that’s what you mean.” Raina ran her French-manicured index finger around the first ad. “Child minder?” She tapped her cheek. “That’s a fancy name for a nanny, you know. For Elena Hennigan and her husband. They want a live-in caregiver for their boys, but they don’t say so here because who wants to stay in