I could hear the hesitation in her voice through the phone. She was probably remembering Connor's previous efforts to find a cook whose food would suit her refined palate.
Though she initially hesitated, knowing this was likely another of Connor's indirect ways of caring for her, Olivia couldn't bring herself to refuse me. "I suppose I could use the help, Dorothy."
She gave me her new apartment address, her voice softening with genuine concern for my employment situation.
After ending the call, I returned to Connor and informed him that Olivia had accepted my services. His ice-blue eyes flickered with the first sign of life I'd seen all day.
Connor then quietly instructed me with careful precision. "Prepare and deliver meals to Olivia during weekday lunches. Don't reveal that these
