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“I know we usually go to the waterfront,” Pippi’s father said as they exited the towering Orthodox Church the following morning, “but I’m just too tired today. Why don’t you take me home, then the two of you can have a little girl time.”
“Absolutely not,” her mother responded. “We will go home and have a nice lunch. It’s a little chilly today anyway.”
“Yes, it is,” Pippi agreed. “I can help Mama with the meal.”
“No,” her mother responded. “You should play for us again. We don’t want you falling out of practice just because you’ve had to leave Julliard until Papa gets better.”
Pippi nodded. Sometimes it would be nice to simply help Mama in the kitchen, but they both knew she usually ended up spilling something, and her mother lived in fear that Pippi would damage her hands in some way. “Of course I will play. Do you mind listening to some of my own compositions, Papa?”
“I enjoy your own music most of all.”
His comment lifted her heart.
The cab had reached their front door and pulled up to the curb. Pippi stared at the steps leading to the front door. It was becoming more and more difficult to help her father up the three he had to negotiate, even with Mama on his other side.
Her mother dug in her coin purse and extracted the fare. Pippi felt her cheeks heat. She’d had to admit to her mother this morning that she’d left her purse behind and with it all the money she had until she got paid. Her mother had been stoic, as always.
Catching her eye now, Pippi’s mother said, “If you need some extra cash, Senator James is having a dinner party Tuesday evening. He has mentioned several times that he would like you to play the piano when he entertains, and I know he would pay you—probably more than you make at your current job. What is it you’re doing?”
Pippi’s response died on her lips, her mouth dropping open in shock as she glanced up the street. Phillip Barrett was walking along the sidewalk toward them, his eyes narrowed. He was the last person she wished to see right now when she could not avoid introducing him to her parents. They would want to know how she knew him because Pippi didn’t know any men close to her age other than fellow musicians.
Lord above, he looked good. Dressed more casually than she had yet seen him, he wore jeans that molded his powerful legs and a lightweight V-neck sweater over a dress shirt. Her heart did that funny flip again, and this time so did her stomach. In his hand was the clutch she’d left behind at the country club.
“Is that someone you know, Persephone?” her mother asked. “He’s staring at you.”
“Yes, Mama. It’s Phillip Barrett, Congressman Wainwright’s opponent.”
“Why would he be visiting you?” A world of concern lay behind her mother’s question. “If he’s your boss’s opponent, will you get in trouble?”
“It’s...complicated, Mama.”
Phillip reached them at that point. Stopping and smiling, he held out his hand to her father. “Good morning, Mr. Aleksandrov. I’m Phillip Barrett, an acquaintance of your daughter’s.”
Her father returned the handshake. “George Aleksandrov. This is my wife...”
Pippi’s mind went blank with the fear that he might tell her parents why she really knew him. She nearly sagged with relief when he said only, “Miss Aleksandrov was one of the musicians who played at a fundraising dinner for my campaign last night. I’m afraid there was some confusion with my campaign manager, so your daughter left without her handbag. I said I would return it, so I could offer our apologies for what happened.”
Pippi was speechless until she felt her mother poke her in the ribs. “Th-thank you.” She held out her hand, resisting the urge to open the clutch to see if everything was inside, including her camera.
Her mother stepped forward with a smile. “We were just going inside for lunch. Persephone was going to play for her papa while I get things ready. Won’t you join us after going to so much trouble?”
Please say no. Please say...
“I would love to.” His eyes glinted as if to say he would find a moment to speak with Pippi privately. For now, he supported her father’s elbow and walked next to him up the steps. “Your daughter is very talented...”
Pippi stared after them until Mama turned. “Come along. You must get your guest some refreshment before you begin playing.”
Oh, not a good idea. Pippi already envisioned tripping right as she got to him and spilling coffee all over him. Shoulders sagging, she followed her mother. This would not be good.
* * * *
Phillip’s curiosity about what would lead to Pippi dropping out of Julliard ended the moment he saw her father. The older man’s pallor and emaciation showed he was gravely ill. Though he was dressed in a suit and tie, the clothing hung on him. Fatigue radiated from him like heat from a stove. Heart problems? God forbid...cancer?
The address had been enough to tell him her background was working class. Walking into their home, though, was a surprise. Everything inside showed careful attention to quality and detail, as fine on its own scale as his parents’ far larger estate, and dominating it all was the baby grand piano.
“Come in, Mr. Barrett,” her father invited. “I will take the recliner, but you are welcome to any other seat we have.”
“Call me Phillip, please.”
“And you must call me George.” He looked at his daughter. “Pippi, don’t stand with your mouth gaping. Bring your guest and me some good, strong coffee.”
“Yes, Papa.” She fled the room as though pursued by hunters.
“So you are the young man challenging Congressman Wainwright. It’s about time someone did.”
Phillip grinned. “Not a fan I take it.”
“Not at all, and I don’t like the fact Pippi’s working for him.” George shook his head. “The poor girl insisted on coming home to help. I’ve got stage three prostate cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the prognosis?”
George sighed. “They’re treating it aggressively, which is why I’m so ill at the moment, so we’re trying to be optimistic. Bottom line, though?—my chances are about fifty-fifty.”
Phillip also suspected those aggressive treatments weren’t coming cheap. “I’m sure it must be a help having Pippi here—for you and your wife.”
George pursed his lips. “We love having her, but I can’t help feeling guilty for taking her away from her music. She says she’ll go back next year.” He shook his head. “I hope so.”
Any further discussion ended when Pippi came in bearing a tray with two mugs on it and an expression clearly revealing she was petrified she would drop it. Phillip shot up and took the tray from her as she nearly tripped on the edge of the rug.
“I’ll take that.”
“Thanks.” She raised a trembling hand and brushed a couple of wispy hairs from her face. “Do you want me to play right now?” Her glance skated to her father.
“Please, Pippi. Play something of yours for our guest.”
She glanced briefly at Phillip. “All right.”
Within minutes, Phillip realized what he’d thought was superb last night in no way compared to what he now heard. No longer playing as background music, but as the main entertainment, his delicate doe turned into a fury at the keyboard. Her fingers flew over the keys with the precision and skill of a heart transplant surgeon, extracting every ounce of what the instrument was capable of producing. Bent over the piano, her face flushed and her eyes glittering beneath her straight, dark brows, Phillip wondered if she would bring this same passion to everything she loved.
Would she bring it to the man she loved?
He swallowed, knowing he was staring and quite unable to look away. He sipped his coffee, glanced at her father, and saw that he had leaned back in his recliner, eyes closed and a faint smile on his gaunt face. This was why she had come home. Sure, the money had to be part of it, for it was doubtful George Aleksandrov could work right now, but her primary motive was to do what she was doing right now—playing for him, giving him pleasure.
Would he be willing to make that kind of sacrifice for his parents?
Phillip didn’t want to examine that too closely. Alex and Patricia Barlow-Barrett had a long history of meddling in their children’s affairs. While Phillip had managed to stay largely off their radar, running for political office had changed that. In some ways, he envied Pippi’s relationship with her parents.
Pippi finished with a flourish and looked over at her father. George had fallen asleep. She stood and motioned for Phillip to follow her. She led the way to the kitchen where her mother was working with a brisk efficiency that showed this was her domain as much as the piano was Pippi’s.
“He’s asleep, Mama.”
“Then let him rest. Why don’t you take Mr. Barrett into the garden?”
Phillip followed Pippi to the door, smiling slightly when her mother added, “Watch those stairs, Persephone.”
A sigh from in front of him. “Yes, Mama.”
The garden was another surprise. Despite the cooler weather as fall drew in, a profusion of flowers decorated the postage stamp-sized backyard. In addition to the riot of color, it was a kaleidoscope of fragrance. “Who’s the gardener?”
Pippi ran her fingers along a delicate blossom. “Papa. It’s his favorite place to be.”
Something in her tone set off alarm bells. He stepped closer. “Pippi? Are you all right.”
She nodded, but shook her head a moment later.
“Can I help with anything?” He paused, took a deep breath, and plowed ahead. “If you need money for treatments...”
“We can pay our bills!” She spun on him, her dark eyes flashing.
Phillip held his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend you, goddess.”
“Stop it!” Pippi snapped. “I’m not a joke. Why must you make fun of me all the time?”
“I don’t...” He shut his mouth. It might have started in a teasing manner, but it fit. She was delicate and as beautiful as any goddess. “Is that what you think?”
She touched another flower, not meeting his eyes. “I know I’m a klutz, a geek. All I’ve ever known is music, and I am a master at that.”
He stepped closer, half afraid she would run from him. Throat tight, he murmured, “You are. You’re lovely, talented, brilliant...”
The gaze she turned on him held such longing, such need to believe that Phillip’s heart beat faster. He wanted to touch her; God help him.
“Pippi,” her mother called from the back door. “Lunch is ready. I’m going to wake Papa.”
Phillip started to turn, but Pippi grasped his arm. They both jumped, and he could only guess she’d felt the same shock he had. “Please don’t tell them I’ve been following you for Wainwright. They wouldn’t understand...and I...I don’t really either. Not anymore.”
He ground his teeth in frustration. They needed time to talk, but now wasn’t it. He could at least offer her some reassurance. “I won’t say anything.”
The meal was amazing, perfectly prepared lamb shanks with a spinach stuffed pastry and a salad that looked like it had come straight from the garden. Judging from the profusion of plants he’d seen, it might have been that fresh.
He asked George about his garden, seeing the immediate spark of interest from the older man and the smile Pippi’s mother gave him. Pippi watched him. Phillip caught her at it once or twice. When he did, she blushed. How long had it been since he had been around a woman who blushed?
“Pippi, clear the table while I get dessert.”
“I can help,” Phillip offered.
“Absolutely not,” Katerina Aleksandrov said. “You are our guest. Pippi will help.”
Phillip nodded. When it came to running the house, Pippi’s mother was obviously the one in charge. As they left, George chuckled.
“My Katerina has a very definite idea of how things should run, but it has worked well for us. She is in charge of the house. I am in charge of the garden.”
“What about Pippi?”
Her father smiled. “She would have you believe that her sole accomplishment is music, but that garden in back is just as much hers as mine.”
“You allow her to handle garden tools?”
George laughed. “Ah, you do indeed know something of my daughter, then. I am happy to say that in the garden she is as she also is with the piano—truly the epitome of her namesakes. Tell me something, Phillip Barrett, do you like my daughter?”
Phillip traced the tablecloth’s pattern with his index finger. “You’re very direct.”
“I am a man staring death in the face and not certain who will blink first. I have no time to dance around an issue.”
Phillip met his host’s steady gaze. “Yes, I do like your daughter. I could have asked any of my staffers to return Pippi’s purse. Instead, I chose to do it myself.”
George leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “Then do me a favor, take her to the waterfront to watch the boats, or take her window shopping. She’s always enjoyed that. Do you have the time?”
Spontaneity had never been high on Phillip’s list. He’d always left that to his brother, Brandon. Phillip always had plans in place, but for Pippi, he was more than willing to alter them. “Of course.”
“Then I’ll suggest it.” He winked. “She won’t tell me no.”
Pippi and her mother returning stopped Phillip from replying. He noticed that Katerina carried the coffee tray while Pippi followed bearing another tray with some sort of cake on it.
Katerina set steaming mugs of coffee in front of George and him before setting mugs for her and her daughter. Pippi put a plate in front of him containing a very plain-looking cake, but even before biting into it, he smelled a fragrance that made his mouth water. Katerina must have seen something in his expression.
“It is Basbousa with rose water syrup. Very traditional.”
“We’re Macedonian,” George told him. “Though at the time we came to the United States, it was part of Yugoslavia.”
“You will find our food draws on the Middle East, the Balkans, and Greece,” Katerina explained. “Taste. Tell me what you think.”
Phillip tried a bite, savoring the rich texture and the sweet syrup. “Good heavens. That’s incredible.”
Katerina smiled, nodding to herself as she dug into her own cake. Pippi, he noticed, consumed hers with very delicate bites. Phillip savored the rich flavors. How on earth did Pippi stay so slim with a mother who could cook like Katerina?
George only ate about half his before he pushed the plate away. He looked tired, but after a sip of his coffee, he rallied. “Pippi, why don’t you and Mr. Barrett go see the sights today?”
She looked up, blinking as though startled out of whatever thoughts were circling through her brain. “Oh, Papa...I’m sure he’s far too busy.”
“Nonsense,” Phillip interjected, recognizing an opening when it was handed to him. “I would love nothing better. My car is just at the end of the block.”
“There, you see, Pippi? Go now. Give your mama and me some peace and quiet.” He waggled his brows, making Pippi laugh. Her dark eyes lit, her lush mouth curved into a smile, and dimples appeared in her cheeks. Phillip stared at her. She thought she was a geek? Heaven above, she was beautiful.
Phillip wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate. “Shall we?”
“I would like to change if you don’t mind. These are my church clothes.”
Phillip nodded. At the moment, he didn’t care what she put on. He just wanted the opportunity to take her out, to make her smile and laugh again, to spend the day with her so he could find out more about her. Accustomed as he was to life with three sisters, he was amazed when Pippi reappeared in next to no time. Phillip stood. Like him, she had on jeans, but she’d teamed that with an oxford cloth shirt and a cardigan. She’d tamed her hair by tying a wide scarf around it, the tails of which trailed alongside her shoulder.
“Ready?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“Have a wonderful time,” her father urged, waving them toward the door.
Phillip smiled at her parents. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Any time, Phillip,” George reassured him.
* * * *
Pippi wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but she found herself sliding into the plush leather of a sporty BMW convertible. Sure the top was up, but then it was early fall and the weather was a little brisk. She ran her hand along the leather armrest.
“Everything okay?” Phillip inquired as he folded his long frame behind the wheel.
“I’ve never ridden in a car like this. It’s great.”
He grinned as he started the engine. “And here I thought you weren’t interested in cars.”
Pippi rubbed her palms along her legs. Phillip was being so gracious, even though her father had backed him nearly into a corner, forcing him to take her out. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I know Papa put you up to it. If you just want to run by the waterfront, that’s fine. We can walk for a little bit before you bring me home...”
“Pippi, stop it.”
She jerked her gaze over to him and found him staring at her, his eyes somber and more green now than gold.
“You need to understand one thing about me. Other than campaigning, which takes on a life of its own, I do only those things I choose to do. I choose to spend the day with you.”
“Why?” She truly didn’t understand why he would want to. She had seen the women on his brothers’ arms, his sister, and the other women close to her age at that fundraiser. She bet none of them haunted the local thrift stores or spent half their time tripping and bumping into things.
He surprised her by capturing her hand in his. The size difference was amazing. Pippi stared at his broad palm and how it cradled hers so gently. “Don’t question it. We’ve been given a day together where we can be just Pippi and Phillip. Let’s enjoy it. He closed his fingers around hers and brought them to his lips.
Pippi was sure every ounce of air had been sucked right out of the car. Surely that must be the reason she couldn’t catch her breath, why her heart pounded. As far as she could tell, Phillip appeared to think no more of it than if he had commented on the weather, so she sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile casually.
“All right,” she murmured, “but just today. Tomorrow we go back to Phillip, the congressional candidate, and Pippi, the not so subtle spy.”
He grinned at her. “Deal. Where would you like to go first?”
Pippi’s cheeks heated. “This will sound silly. It’s obvious you’re really into sailing from the pictures and models in your office. Can we look at the sailboats along the waterfront? I like to watch them bobbing on the water.”
“Sure. I think we can handle that.”
She supposed something in his tone should have warned her, but he pulled right into the Yacht Club parking lot, found a spot, set the hand brake, and turned the motor off.
“What are you doing? Isn’t this private?” Pippi gazed around her, feeling a bit wary. She had never actually dared to come down from the street level to look at the boats close up. Of course, some of that was due more to the water than an inferiority complex.
“I thought you might like a closer look at some of the sailboats.” Phillip’s grin was boyish, but still, Pippi felt a frisson of alarm go through her.
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. Come on.”
She let him tug her along by the hand, and as she followed, she realized he had a specific destination. When they reached the end of a floating dock, he stopped next to a gleaming white boat, its mast waving gently back and forth as it bobbed in the water.
“Is this close enough, Pippi, or would you like to go aboard?”
Actually get on a boat? She stared at the inky water, just a few feet below them and swallowed past the fear choking her. “I-I don’t think we need to do that. Standing here is good.” As long as he was holding her hand, it was great because this was her, after all. There was no telling when she’d trip and fall into that deep, dark water.
He put a finger beneath her chin. “You’re frightened.” She started to shake her head. “Don’t deny it, Pippi. I feel you shaking. Why do you want to come see the boats if they scare you?”
She shrugged, not wanting to admit it was a fear of the unknown as much as anything else. “I like to watch the planes at National too.”
“And you’re afraid of those as well...because you’ve never flown?” He still had his finger beneath her chin while he used his other hand to hold hers. Those greenish-gold eyes of his bore into her like a drill straight to her soul. Before she could protest, he swung her into his arms and stepped from the dock onto the boat.
“Phillip!” she squeaked. “What are you doing?”
He let her slide to her feet, his hands spanning her waist and keeping her near him. “It’s my boat, Pippi.”
She stared around the gleaming fiberglass, polished metal, and wood trim. It was much larger up close than it appeared from a distance. “Do you live here?”
He laughed. “No, though sometimes I wish I did. Would you like to see her?”
Pippi clamped her lips shut. If he could afford to have something like this along with the car he drove... Feeling gauche, she nodded. No wonder he’d looked at her clothing as he had that first day. No doubt everything he had on—probably even his underwear—was custom-made. One thing she was sure of, he had never picked his outfit from the racks of a thrift store. Phillip’s pride in his beautiful boat was obvious.
“Don’t boats have names?” Pippi finally asked, conscious of Phillip’s hands still at her waist.
“Hers is Willow.” He released her but took hold of her hand instead. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”
He kept hold of her hand, helping her down the steps to the main cabin, which was larger than she would have guessed.
“This is big.”
Phillip laughed. “Not so much when you’re my size, but it does the job. I usually just take day trips, but she’s good for overnight sails too.” He tugged her forward. “This is the sleeping cabin. The couch area behind you also converts to a double berth.”
Pippi looked inside and laughed. “It’s like a triangle. Is that because we’re in the front of the boat?”
“The bow. Yes. You put your feet at the small end. That way it could sleep two.”
“Not if they were both your size. I might fit,” Pippi added without thinking, then felt her cheeks flame.
“You might.” Phillip stared at her for a moment, his expression searching, and Pippi’s breath caught. There it was again, that crackle of electricity. With a shake of his head it disappeared, as though he had willed it away, and he grabbed her hand again. “Maybe we should go back on deck.”
Disappointment flooded her. Something had happened, but it was obvious he didn’t want it to. The breeze ruffled her hair. Pippi looked away from Phillip, embarrassed that she might have made him think...
“Would you like to go for a sail?”
“What?”
Phillip grinned. “We could take her for a short sail on the river.”
Pippi stared at the rippling water.
“You’re biting your lip again. What’s the problem?”
She really didn’t want to admit it, but she saw no way around it. “Phillip, I’ve never been on a boat, and I’m such a klutz. What if I fall in?”
“I’d turn around and get you,” he assured her with a grin and a soft laugh. “Eventually.”
Pippi shook her head. “Don’t joke. I can’t swim. I’ve never really been around the water.”
He stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Judging from all the sailing and water related décor in his office, he’d probably never met anyone who wasn’t half fish. He stepped up to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen. Look, you’ll have on a life vest, but if it makes you feel better, you can hang onto me the whole time. We’ll just cruise nice and easy along the river.”
Pippi took a deep, shaky breath. She wasn’t used to trusting other people. “All right.”
“Good. I’ll turn you into a sailor before you know it.”
She uttered a shaky laugh. “Just be thankful if I don’t knock something over that capsizes the whole boat.”