I suck in a breath. Mr. Rochester does have a rather abrupt way of handling things, especially messy, emotional things. “Maybe he felt too sad to talk about it then. We could try again. This is important. If you feel afraid, then we have to talk about it.”

She tucks her head in my shoulder. Her dirty blonde hair covers her face. “You’re the only person who talks to me anyway.”

I plant a kiss on top of her head. “I know. It’s hard for Uncle Beau to open up. He’s not naturally very chatty, but I’m sure he’ll learn.”

“I don’t just mean now. Before, too. Daddy was always working. And Mommy would leave for her trips. They never had time for me.”

A wrench in my heart. I suppose it always feels like you’ll have more time. Maybe they were terrible parents. Or maybe they were good parents who were just too wrapped up in their lives to see the moments running through their hands like sand. “Who would stay with you?”

“Mrs. Fairfax.”

Oh. “I didn’t realize she was your nanny before me.”

A scrunched nose. “She didn’t play with me or anything, but she made sure there was food.”

I hide my cringe. That sounds like a bad situation for a child not yet six years old, to be alone in this house without a real caregiver. I wonder if Beau Rochester knew about what was happening with his niece while he was busy being a playboy. For that matter I wonder where he even was after he stepped out of the limelight. “I appreciate you telling me this,” I say to Paige. “You can always talk to me. I will never get mad at you for your feelings or for being honest, okay?”

She wriggles on my lap, and I wonder if we’ve lost the seriousness of the moment.

Then she leans close, her small arms wrapping around my neck in a hug. I squeeze her back and close my eyes, breathing her sweet child-scent in deep.

“I’m afraid,” she whispers against my throat, and I tense. “Whoever hurt her might come to the cliff. They might come for me next.” Before I can think of a reply, she jumps down off my lap and runs upstairs. When I follow her, she already has the Monopoly game out. She deals out the money and we play, pretending she didn’t say what she said, my mind reeling.

She definitely can still beat me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jane Mendoza

My contract with the Bassett Agency technically gives me Sundays off, although there is a clause for the family to ask for more work if needed or to change the day. For the most part I’ve spent Sundays with Paige. I don’t know anyone in Maine anyway, and I enjoy spending time with her. But this Sunday, I step into Beau’s office.