Page 69

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”

I come downstairs to incredible smells of things baking and pan-frying. Kiersten gives me a bright, sunny smile as I step into the kitchen.

I slip onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Am I the first one up?”

“Aaron went for a run, and Mrs. King left to do whatever it is she’s going to do for the morning.” Kiersten talks as she works, a towel slung over her shoulder, not missing a beat as she moves from the oven to the fridge to the countertop to the espresso machine and back. “Maya was up early and took a banana and her phone with her outside.”

Something moves across Kiersten’s expression, like a cloud passing the sun, as she looks toward the shaded veranda, where the morning sun slants through the wooden slats.

“Is she okay?”

Kiersten’s head snaps back, her concern flipping to chagrin that I caught a shred of evidence of whatever she was thinking. She offers me an apologetic smile. “I think so. She’s had a tough time since, well, you know.”

Kiersten is uncharacteristically reticent, and the kitchen suddenly feels less sunny than it did a moment ago. I tilt my head because I don’t know, but I’m not sure I should pry. Kiersten’s green eyes look outside, then to the hallway leading to the kitchen before she leans in.

“Aaron’s wife died about five years ago in a car accident.”

I can’t help my gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “Oh no!”

“It was just before I started working for Sebastian. Aaron took it really hard, of course. From everything Sebastian’s said, he was head over heels for his wife. They were college sweethearts. It was really sad.”

I nod sullenly. “That’s awful.”

“I got to see the aftermath. Sebastian and I were the ones feeding the kids and making sure Aaron ate. It was terrible.” There’s a sadness in her tone that catches my attention. It sounds more like care for a friend than a boss’s brother.

“It was tough seeing all of them go through that,” Kiersten admits. “I was brand new to the job, but we all got close pretty fast just trying to help Aaron through everything.”

“That was really kind of you. I’m sure Sebastian didn’t expect that level of going above and beyond.”

The young woman shrugs in self-deprecation. “Well, I wasn’t just going to leave them like that. I couldn’t. Do you want a cappuccino?”

The sudden change in subject catches me off guard. “Yes, please.”

“You like oat milk, right?” Kiersten asks. She’s already at the espresso machine, and I have to affirm the question with a raised voice to be heard over the grinding of coffee beans.

“Anyway,” Kiersten continues as soon as the noise dies down, “I think Maya’s feeling a little lost. It must be hard to be a teenage girl with only brothers, a dad, and uncles around.”

“What about Mrs. King? I haven’t seen or spoken to her much.”

Kiersten purses her lips. “She’s, uh, not exactly the most hands-on mother or grandmother,” she offers delicately. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a nice person. But from what I gather, she prefers to keep to herself. Doesn’t go out very much, except to see friends sometimes. I think she’s on a few boards, and I know she vacations in Europe. But I haven’t really talked with her at length.”

“I see.”

Kiersten and I continue to chat as the machine whirs, brewing and dispensing the fragrant shot of espresso. From where I’m sitting, it looks perfect, the color of smooth dark chocolate with a crema on top that makes my mouth water. Our conversation pauses at the squeal of the milk steamer, and I glance out the window. I can see Maya sitting on the edge of the pool, one leg pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around it, wearing an expression I recognize with painful clarity.

“Do you think she’ll mind if I go talk to her?” I ask when Kiersten hands me one of the most beautiful cappuccinos I’ve ever seen, complete with foam art in the shape of a smiling face.

“You can try.” Kiersten doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, she’s a good kid, but she’s fifteen…” She trails off.

“Yep. I remember those years well. I also remember my sisters during those years.” I slide off the stool and take an experimental sip.

“Need any sugar or anything?” Kiersten asks.

“No, it’s perfect,” I lie. The smell, which should be heaven, suddenly turns my stomach, and I have to breathe through my mouth until it passes.

Kiersten smiles, then goes back to her work. I take my cappuccino outside to the veranda, padding across the cool stones toward the pool. Maya looks up as I approach, a slight grimace to her smile when I greet her.

“Do you mind if I join you?”