Lois Faye Dyer lives on Washington State’s beautiful Puget Sound with her husband, their yellow Lab, Maggie Mae, and two eccentric cats. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.
For my niece Carol and her husband, Simon. May you have a long and fruitful life together. Be careful, strive to be happy and remember to always be kind to one another.
Chapter One
“Brenda, do you think the newspaper stories about Father are true?” Emily Parks cradled a delicate teacup, warming her chilled fingers against the heated china. Despite the seventy-six-degree temperature outside, the kitchen of Walter Parks’s San Francisco mansion was shady and cool. The windows in the dining alcove stood open and a slight breeze blew in off the Pacific, carrying the faint tang of salt and sea.
“Hard to say how much of the news reports a person can believe.” The older woman’s voice held doubt.
“I’ve always known Father was completely ruthless in business, but it’s hard to believe that he’d be involved in anything criminal.”
“Impossible to believe that he might do something illegal?” Brenda’s eyes were shrewd behind her glasses. “Or difficult for you to accept that a member of your family might have done something outside the law.”
Emily frowned, considering the question. “Maybe it’s more that I simply don’t want to believe that my father is capable of being involved in illegal business deals. Heaven knows he wasn’t much of a father, but he’s the only parent I’ve ever known.” She glanced up at Brenda. Seated across the small walnut table, her plump, five-foot tall body encased in a soft blue uniform dress, the Parks’s family housekeeper exuded concern and maternal affection. Brenda wasn’t Emily’s birth mother, but in all the ways that counted, she’d earned the right to be called “‘Mom.” “‘If it wasn’t for you, I would probably have grown up with a revolving group of nannies.”
“Hmmph.” Brenda sniffed, her teacup clicking against the matching blue Wedgwood saucer as she lowered it with a snap. “Your father never had any sense when it came to hiring household help. How he managed to build that jewelry store of his into such a powerhouse is a constant puzzle to me.”
Emily laughed. “That ‘jewelry store’ is San Francisco’s version of New York’s Tiffany’s, Brenda. I’m sure Father has razor-sharp judgment when it comes to hiring employees for the business, but I’ve always thought the only intelligent thing he ever did for his personal life was to hire you to take care of us all those years ago.”
Brenda’s eyes twinkled. “Now that was a winwin situation. I was free to spoil you four children with no interference from your father. And in addition, he paid me a good salary.” She patted her short gray hair and winked at Emily. “I was able to save enough to go traveling this year.”
“How did you like Paris?” Emily loved hearing Brenda’s tales of her travels. She longed to travel but for the moment, her growing business demanded every hour of her time.
“I loved it—the Champs Elysée, the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, the Monet paintings in the Louvre’s Orangerie…” Her voice trailed off, a reminiscent smile curving her mouth. “I think I’d like to go back there for my honeymoon.”
Emily’s tea choked her in midswallow. She gasped and coughed, her eyes watering. It took a moment before she could speak coherently. “Honeymoon? What honeymoon? I didn’t even know you were dating someone!”
“I’m not.” Brenda said, her plump face serenely confident. “But I’ve answered a few personal ads and met some very nice men. I’m sure that I’ll eventually find someone that matches my requirements for companionship.”
Emily couldn’t hide her astonishment. “I didn’t know you were interested in finding a husband, Brenda. I’ve always thought you were married to your job.”
“I was,” Brenda agreed. “After my John passed away, you children were a blessing and caring for you filled every moment. I didn’t have the time or the energy to lose myself in grief, thank goodness. But now that you’re all out of the house and don’t need me anymore, I’ve been thinking more and more about finding a male friend to spend the rest of my life with.”
“You’re amazing.” Emily slowly shook her head. “It takes a certain kind of courage to look for love even once, but searching twice in one’s lifetime? You deserve a medal.”
“Courage?” Brenda looked at Emily over the rim of her glasses, a small frown creasing a line between her brows. “Why courage?”
“Because it seems to me that being loved once in a woman’s life is a rare thing.” Emily shrugged and lifted her cup. “The chances of it happening twice have got to be slim to none.”
“Oh, hon.” Brenda’s voice held sympathy and she covered Emily’s free hand with her own atop the table. “Not all men are like your father and the men you’ve dated.”
“Perhaps.” She didn’t bother to hide the skepticism she felt. She didn’t need to—not with Brenda. “But if there are any nice guys in the world—with the exception of my brothers—I’ve never met them.”
“So you’ve given up on finding a prince?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Brenda sighed. She sipped her tea and a smile curved her mouth. “It’s difficult to believe that the little girl who loved fairy tales has grown up to be a woman who doesn’t believe in love. Remember how you declared that you were going to marry a prince when you grew up, just like Cinderella?”
“I remember.” Emily’s answering smile faded quickly. “That was a long time ago, Brenda. Unfortunately little girls grow up and have to live in the real world. Much as I would love to have a real family, with a husband who would love me and cherish our children—I’ve given up on finding my prince.”
“I’m afraid your father has a lot to answer for.” Brenda frowned, concern chasing away her smile. “He’s ruined your faith in men. But all men aren’t like Walter Parks. And someday, somewhere, the right man will come along and you’ll have the family you’ve always wanted.”
“I hope you’re right, Brenda,” Emily’s voice held a deep well of sadness. “It would be lovely to believe in fairy tales again.”
“Hmmph.” Brenda shook her finger at her. “Just be sure you’re paying attention so you can recognize him when he arrives. Not all princes ride a white horse and wear a crown, you know.”
Emily laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I know. But while I’m waiting for him to ride up to my door, I think I’ll spend my time building my company, since I suspect that dream has a much better chance of coming true.”
Lazhar Eban was on his way to Walter Parks’s library on the first floor of the sprawling mansion. Distracted by the contract he scanned while he walked, he turned left instead of right at the foot of the stairs, moved down a hallway and found himself standing just outside the kitchen, frozen by the conversation he’d accidentally overheard. The gold framed mirror hanging on the wall opposite him reflected the kitchen interior. On the far side of the room, tucked into a bay window looking out on the kitchen garden, was a comfortable dining nook where two women sat. The older woman was the housekeeper who’d shown him to his room late the night before. Lazhar instantly recognized the stunningly beautiful younger woman. Her thick mane of glossy hair was golden-brown, her eyes a bright green, and dimples flashed beside her lush mouth when she smiled. Emily Parks, Walter Parks’s daughter, was the reason Lazhar had abruptly changed his busy schedule and flown to San Francisco.
Her photo had accompanied an addendum to a business proposal from her father, received at Lazhar’s