Many hours later, I’ve successfully tiptoed in and out of the kitchen unnoticed to get what I need for the baby, and I’ve learned some of the layout. Everyone who was on the couch when I came in seems to have left or relocated. Someone turned off the blaring television, and I’ve still seen no sign of Mrs. Felix or Gregory. I’m getting used to the place, despite the part where I’m working in a penthouse ghost town manned by a security guard who seems happy staring at an iPad all day.

It was easy to find the baby bottles because they were located exactly as described. Lined up like soldiers waiting to be filled with purified spring water right next to the sink, as promised. The fancy bottle warmer that was left on the counter was intimidating with its computerized front and fancy design, but it turned out to be easy to operate, too.

After the second round of feeding and changing, the baby and I have settled in comfortably with each other, and my heart is even more gone on her sweetness. I set up one of those little baby-gym activity centers and let her play while I wrestled the changing table out of the huge box, found a spot for it next to the wall, and now I’m working to unpack some of the bags of baby stuff. I’ve hardly made a dent in that though, because lying next to the gurgling baby while she kicked her little legs and laughed at me is too awesome to ignore, so I’ve been pausing to play with her a ton.

The artist part of me that is always obsessed about colors or textures has gone crazy on this baby. She’s so soft and beautiful, with her light red hair and pearly skin that I went crazy over staring at her. I’ve done a study of her translucent fingernails and I swear I’ve memorized each one of her miniature eyelashes. After that I’ve been craving to sketch her, because I’ve done some human model studies, but never drawn a baby before. Sadly, I don’t have any good paper or pencils, so I satisfied myself with analyzing her eye colors.

After a full half hour of steady contemplation, I’ve decided hers aren’t exactly Royce’s eye color at all. The baby’s eyes are equally bright—and truly startling—which is where the similarity between father and daughter comes in to play. But, if I remember Royce’s eyes correctly, the baby’s eyes do not have any of her daddy’s molten silver shards streaking through them at all.

Her blue color is passive and solid like a summer sky at noon. One that’s bright because there’s not one cloud to distract from it, the kind of bright blue sky that takes the sun for granted. Royce’s eyes were the opposite. His blue seemed lit from something more active. Like lightning, or a comet, or stars. Whatever it was, his eyes weren’t wide open space like this baby’s eyes, either. His were all light and bright, yes, but somehow also mixed with darkness. Only, I honestly can’t remember if that darkness had come from his bad attitude or from the eyes themselves.

When the baby seemed tired, I dragged the bags and boxes off the new glider-rocker and unwrapped the cushions, using the rocker and the ever-important pacifier to rock her back to sleep. I also successfully transferred her into the crib without waking her. From working with other babies at the daycare center, I know this feat is not easy. Some babies do it; others startle at the drop of a pin and wake right back up ready to play.

That’s a killer, because then they don’t sleep, you don’t get a break, and everyone winds up stressed and over-tired. I’m rather proud of myself and would even go so far as to say I’m an amazing nanny, but considering how she slept through tornado levels of noise yesterday and smiled nonstop today, my successes with this baby are probably less about my skills and more about her gentle easy personality.

I figure I’ve got about two hours or less before she wakes and needs me again, so I’ve taken the receiver portion of the baby monitor next to her crib and placed it on the countertop so I can clean up some of the mess I made in the kitchen earlier. I’m staring into this dishwasher that’s fancier than anything I’ve ever seen, and worrying that the high-tech thing is going to melt the little bottles into hockey pucks if I load them inside. Since I want them to be sterilized and the bottom of the bottles do say dishwasher safe, I decide to go for it.

Once they’re loaded and I put in one of the deluxe, gel-pack soap things I find under the sink and I start it. Quickly, I lean on the counter to pull out my phone to text Angel. All good up here in rockstar land. How’s your day? Sorry to bother, but can you give me an update on Sage? Have you heard anything from your mom?

After a long minute, he texts back: Gave mom a quick call. Mamma adores him, the girls couldn’t be happier, and he’s helping out a lot. They’re currently picking baby zucchini in the garden, and loving it.”

His text allows me to breathe in a full breath that’s half relief and all happiness that my brother is safe and okay. The kid loves to have his hands in dirt. I answer: Thank you. For everything, for this perfect text. For making me able to work here.

He replies: If you need me to come up there and kick some rock star ass, I’m there. Are they treating you nice?

I respond: Yes. It’s strange, but all good.

He adds: As long as you’re okay.

His texts have me wondering again at the conversation I’d had with Mrs. Hildebrandt about Angel’s past. I keep trying to reconcile this kind, protective guy against what I’d heard, wishing I could ask him about it now, but because questions like I want to ask, should be done in person,

I text only: Thx. Great. See you later.

A barstool on the other side of the granite countertop scrapes against the floor startling me and I almost drop my phone into the sink. “Robin, did you cast some sort of sleeping spell on us?” a bright, feminine voice asks.

Feeling guilty for texting at work with the phone they gave me, even though they did give me permission, I shove the phone into my shorts pocket and realize I’ve been greeted by the self-assured girl who was in the limo yesterday.

Vere, I think. This has to be her.

Thankfully she doesn’t look anything but happy to see me.

She’s hopped up into a barstool and is on her knees stretching to reach a box of Frosted Mini-Wheats that had been left out. She takes out a few of the frosted cereal rectangles and lines them up on a napkin. “Everyone else is still dead to the world. She points at the running dishwasher. “Were you doing dishes? You shouldn’t, you know? We have a maid and a chef with his own team that comes up every day.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” I smile tentatively, noticing she’s wearing her hair how she had it yesterday, in a messy bun. I also think she’s still in her pajamas, because her pants are purple flannel with gray and white elephants on them. She’s matched them with an oversized gray cotton hoodie. Eyeing her cereal, I point at the glass door cupboards that hold the dishes. “Can I get you a bowl and some milk?”

“Oh no. I’m a dipper. I like to soak them in milk while holding them, but before I do that I just have to line them up them in the order of which one has the most frosting first.” She pushes the napkin toward me. “See? Most frosted ones to the left, least frosted to the right.”

I smile because she’s nodding proudly like she’s taught me some necessary life-long skill that was missing in my life, while she wiggles her brows up and down to add, “I can only eat a few though, this is an appetizer to the brunch-lunch I’m about to eat with you.” Lining up two more cereal squares, she adds, “Royce texted me that he was having food sent up. Yay! Lunch. Don’t you love it?” She claps her hands. “I love lunch.”

I jump back when she hops up to make her way to the massive stainless steel fridge on my side of the counter, pulls out a gallon of milk, and fills a glass, sloshing some to the floor when she pauses to place one hand on her head. “Oh shoot. I just did that all backwards, didn’t I? We’ve talked about you so much, Robin, that I felt like I already knew you. I’m Vere Roth. We kind of met yesterday. Remember? Hi, and nice to meet you.” Her cheeks color a little.

“I’m Robin. Robin Love,” I answer working hard not to be nervous about saying my whole name to complete strangers after guarding it so carefully while we were on the run. It nearly killed me to write it on the paperwork for Mrs. Hildebrandt this morning, but I need to use that name in order to get paid, and to file for custody of my brother. The Perino’s also know it now, so for better or for worse, I can’t keep it hidden anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep hoping my own name won’t somehow get me in trouble.

“Holy cow. Your last name is Love? That’s gorgeous.” She grins, contemplating her cereal. “And cool.” Her large almond shaped brown eyes meet mine, then go really wide. “And prophetic, and you’re so lucky to have such a name.” She hugs herself. “Love is all powerful.”

I have to roll my eyes but put a laugh on the end of it. “The name always sets off a reaction, but yours has got the be the best one I’ve ever heard.”

“I’ve been known to go crazy over small things, but this is no small thing. It’s Love.” Her grin is so cute and funny it’s contagious. “So is it okay that we have lunch together, Robin Love?” Suddenly I don’t feel uncomfortable around this girl at all, I can tell she’s not the type to wear a mask. This silliness is just her, being her. “Nice to meet you, and, hmm.” She blinks tapping her chin with one finger. “That should catch me up on polite conversations that I may have missed when I walked in here, as well as cover everything we’ve already spoken about, right?” She nods as if satisfied about something. “I’m sorry. I have zero social skills. Can you tell? Is that a deal breaker for our friendship? Tell me now. I’ve scared a lot of people, but I’m hoping I haven’t already freaked you out.”

“I don’t mind.” I laugh, finally because she’s funny as heck. “And nice to meet you, too.” I bite my lip and turn back to the sink because I’m afraid I’m going to crack up again and that might hurt her feelings, so I grab the fancy sponge, and wipe the drops of water I’d left all around the granite. Then I quickly duck down to wipe up her spilled milk off the floor.

“So you do remember me?” she asks. “And lunch. You didn’t answer. Eating lunch with me, is that going to be okay?”

“I remember you,” I say, turning back to her. “It’s possible I won’t forget anything from yesterday. I’ve never had a job interview quite like it. I also have zero social skills, and yes, eating lunch is okay, as long as the baby is still asleep. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“The lunch was all Royce’s idea. And we’ve been thinking and talking about you non-stop since last night, because yes. It was so unforgettable, huh?” She cracks up, returning to her stool with her glass, then pauses to dip one of her frosted cereal rectangles into the milk. “Oh my God. You’ve captured all of our imaginations. Do you know Mrs. Felix pretty much hates everyone who’s outside the family circle and she and Gregory just adore you. And wait until they find out your last name. It’s so cool and perfect. Robin. Love. Love it!”

“What? Oh. No. I mean, thanks, but…no, I’m not at all cool, nor is my name. How about we keep it between us? It’s awkward for people to know it. I used to be brutalized for that last name in school.”

“Try having the name Gwenivere. That’s what Vere is short for. Everyone else with my name has the cute nick name, Gwen. My dad, settled on Vere. Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “Why?”

I shake my head, amazed that this girl is talking to me like this is a normal conversation inside of a normal kitchen. I have this sensation that I should point out to her that we’re in a penthouse and that she’s a really famous girl who has just asked to have lunch with the hired nanny, but I don’t, because I’m the one who thinks she’s really cool, and because I want to talk to her more before she leaps up and skips away once she realizes what she’s done.

She’s paused and is momentarily rubbing her eyes before yawning loudly again and saying, “You have no idea what the addition of a baby in the mix has done to our minds, our schedules. This entire hotel suite has been in a forty-eight-hour freak-out, but your arrival seems to have calmed it all down. I peeked in on both Gregory and Mrs. Felix. Those two are only now beginning to stir in their suites. Hunter and Adam are still locked in a morning nap. Royce is the only one who hasn’t seemed to have slept much. Even with you here, he can’t relax. Guy is one delirious worry-ball mess.”

I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I reply, “I suppose that’s fair, since he is the father he should worry the most.”

“Right?” She spins her stool around halfway, then back to face me as her phone dings in her pocket. She grabs it out and glances down at her messages. “It’s Royce again. Instead of being calm, because I did swear to him I was coming to find you and feed you, he’s now flipping out because I haven’t texted him back yet, and he doesn’t believe I’ve kept my promise.” She rolls her eyes at the phone as it dings some more. “He now thinks you might not be okay, or that the baby is not okay, or that you’re feeling uncomfortable and upset about how he acted earlier, which he told me, was epic and horrible? Was he? Horrible?”

“Oh. I…uh, he was okay. Really,” I answer, wondering if he was horrible or just strange.

She darts me a look then looks back at the still dinging phone. “Now he’s wondering if you quit, which he thinks would be a good thing for you to do, and now,” she frowns at the latest dinging then laughs. “Now he’s actually now asking me to convince you to quit while we eat lunch.”

My heart twists with pent up anxiety as she looks up.

“Why do you look so sad? I was trying so hard to crack you up.”

“I—have a hard time understanding what’s going on in this place, and I know he didn’t want me to be hired, but…” I work to smooth my expression to one I hope looks calm as I forge on, “Please. Can you explain to him that I can’t lose this job or quit. No matter what. If he sends me away before the job is done and I don’t get paid, I’ll be devastated. I know I may have messed up by decking him yesterday. And today when we met again, I may have said a few things that implied he was not being the best dad he could be. So, I get why he wants me to not work here, but please tell him, I’m sorry. That I really need the job.” I scoot into the bar stool beside her.

She scans my expression then reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Oh gosh. No. I’m so sorry.” A deep crinkle forms in her forehead. “The job is yours. I was only sharing those texts because I think Royce is so funny, but I suppose if you don’t know him, you can’t find any humor in his intense ways, can you?”

“So far…uh…no. He’s not funny to me at all. Only…kind of…intense. Scary.”

She sighs. “Royce will probably continue to wish you would quit but it’s got nothing to do with you personally, and he won’t take the job away from you. Not at all. He’s indirectly protecting you with his rantings. He tries to shield everyone from any new situation. He also worries about everything from the ozone layer to America’s corn products. Oh, my God. Look. See? This proves it.”

She scoots her phone so I can read the next lines of text Royce has sent:

Vere.

Vere.

Answer me.

Sorry I didn’t reply.

I jumped in the shower.

What’s happened?

What’s the report?

Why are you not texting me about Robin?

Do you need backup?

What’s going on, do you need an ambulance?

Did the lunch arrive yet?”

“Wow.” I finally understand what she’s saying must be true and laugh a little.

“If I don’t type something fast he’s going to run out here in a towel having already dialed 911, and ambulances or cops will pull in to the portico, and rumors will fly. We can’t afford any press scandals this week.”

I put my hand on my chest because it hurts from how I’d been holding my breath at the news Royce wanted me to quit, and also because, who cares about press scandals. I, personally, can’t emotionally afford to see Royce Devlin in a towel.

Not now. Not today. Not ever.

She quickly texts her reply to Royce just as the next set of texts comes in to her phone. “Wow. Now it’s Mrs. Felix and Gregory also wanting to know if you and the baby are okay. Sheesh. Hang on again. I’m going to make a group message.”

“I’m impressed with your thumb speed,” I lean over as she holds out the phone so I can see all that she’s typing about me being okay, and how the baby is napping, and how we’re doing fine.

“You could also mention I’ve started sorting through the stuff in the nursery. It’s going to take another day or two, though, because there’s an entire baby store to sort through.”

“Got it. And…sending.” Vere looks up. “Adam bought all of that stuff. He’s got obsessive tendencies, too. Where Royce obsessively worries non-stop, Adam can be worse. Adam fixates on things to the point you can’t stop him once he’s locked and loaded. That’s why he bought out five baby stores.”

“What do you mean?”

“Royce is much easier. I can predict how he’s going to act in any given situation—he’s going to silently stew on things and worry about them, and then try to wrap everyone in bubble wrap and keep everyone safe. But Adam, he’s like a chameleon. Loose cannon all the way. Once he’s into something, he’s really into something, only that something always changes. Once he’s fixated on the next thing, he has to make sure we all do it with him. He picks a topic or a goal, gathers the tools, the gear, reads books, gets hired experts to come help out and then slowly drives us insane with it until he fixates on the next thing. Luckily, he applies most of his madness to music and things associated with the band’s career, so he’s part of why Guarderobe is so successful. Often he’s locked up studying chords or learning a new instrument so we’re safe. Adam sets the band’s music goals, calendars, and often directs what’s next for the group creatively, but sometimes he goes off kilter and gets obsessed with outside things.”

I raise my brows, trying to understand. “Like what sorts of outside things?”

“You name it.” She sighs. “Two years ago he went on this tangent that he wanted to be a windsurfer. In two weeks, he’d read every single book on windsurfing he could find, hired this national champion to train us, and then convinced us all to buy boards, get wetsuits and begged us to do with him. If you haven’t noticed, he’s kind of irresistible?”

I nod, smiling.

“We wound up staying in a rented place for half of a summer in this cool house by the San Francisco Bay until we could all windsurf like pros.”

“Wow.” I smile more. “He sounds like a perfect fun friend.”

She nods, layering on another twinkling smile. “They’re both fun once you get past their tiring traits. And heck yes, you should see me windsurf. But truthfully, I’m glad Hunter Kennedy is my boyfriend, because he’s the steady one of the three personalities.” She tilts her head to the side. “Although he didn’t always used to be steady. Do you know about him? How we met?”

I shrug. “My brother, he’s a huge fan. He told me some of how you met in Colorado while Hunter was at a high school there?”

“Exactly.” She beams at me. “Hunter was sent to live with his aunt who lives next door to my family. We met because he was going through burn out. It had gotten so bad he’d tried to kill himself by crashing a car. So his mom tried to make him rest and we met when he’d been sent to hide out in Colorado. His aunt was a friend of my parents and we lived next door to where he was staying. I was hired, kind of how you were hired, minus any payment, though. I was supposed to make-him-over into this nerdy dude so he could fit in to my town and remain unnoticed.” Her big brown eyes seem to get twice as big as she leans in and adds, “It was fun, and it worked for a while, but he’s so beautiful it was difficult to disguise him. He was only seventeen, yet he was so shut down, so afraid to move without someone telling what to do. He was also so lonely. He helped me get over being awkward, or at least love myself for being awkward which is what I think finally happened.” She hugs herself. “He says I saved him. That I help him see the small and beautiful parts of life, but actually he saved me.”

I put a hand to my mouth. “Wow. What a story. I’m sorry he was so sad.”

“He was young, and it was a long time ago. Five years already, and he speaks openly about it. Helps other kids with depression.” She smiles. “He pulled through it, and we wouldn’t have met otherwise. He’s the love of my life. Better.” Her grin widens. “He says he loves me back even more, so it was all for a reason. There’s no accidents in life. The people that you meet are there for a reason, that’s what I think. Which is why you and I are going to be friends, right?”

“Aww…well, okay. You sound just like the lady I’m living with. Angel’s mom. Mrs. Perino.”

“Oh, Gregory been talking non-stop about her. Says she’s so cool.”

“She is.”

“Now, when Hunter is upset or stressed, he simply sits and plays the guitar for hours until he feels right. He doesn’t go off on worry tangents like Royce does, or run away trying to fill the holes with new ‘adventures’ like Adam does.” She wrinkles her nose. “Those two need like…emotion management classes, if there is such a thing. If only the other two could learn from our wise example and get steady girlfriends. Fall in love. They’d be just fine.”

She points at the baby monitor I left back by the sink. “Adam’s next adventure-tangent is obsessing over that baby and all the gear that comes with her. This might be worse than the windsurfing thing. He owns all the baby books ever written, he’s even been reading mommy-blogs. It’s like the baby is his new pet.” She laughs. “Last night, I caught him studying food contents of the baby’s formula last night. In case you were wondering where you fit in, you, Robin Love are his ‘hired baby expert’ so prepare for him to be in your space all the time. We’ve all fallen in love with that little girl in there, but Adam is taking his role as Uncle Adam to extraordinary levels.”

“That explains so much.” I laugh again. “He was giving Royce baby tips he’d read from some book this morning. And he did seem really good with her compared to Royce. I think it’s cute how he’s so concerned. Especially with Royce acting like she’s not his baby.” I shake my head. “The baby will only benefit from extra love, right? Uncle Adam is welcome anytime.”

She shakes her head. “You might change your mind on that. Adam is infuriating. Even I’ve lost some sanity on that guy. The Paparazzi feeds off Adam, to. They know he’s an open book and that he’s going to provide excellent photographs with his erratic antics.” She sighs. “Everyone always assumes Royce is the press magnet, but with the stupid paparazzi lurking around looking for chinks in the carefully crafted, Guarderobe armor, Adam can be an easy target for rumors and scandals to start up because he doesn’t think before he acts. He just feels, and acts and feels and cries and feels. He also is the one who runs away. Literally, he’s taken off for weeks and even months at a time. The press eats that up, too. The fans of course, think it’s all mysterious. Part of his creativity. Now there’s this rumor that he’s gay.”

I nod. “My brother even mentioned that.”

“Well, he’s not.” She rolls her eyes. “We all just have to make sure he doesn’t run away with the baby, right?” she laughs at her own joke.

“How crazy will the press get if they discover Royce has a baby up here?”

“Crazy isn’t the word. They’d chew us all up and spit us out. There’s no mommy to interview! They’d ruin that baby’s life as well as the mom’s life for flipping out and leaving her here. I suppose they’d ruin Royce’s life, too because what kind of dirt-bag doesn’t even know the mom is pregnant? He will weather it if it hits, but he doesn’t want it to hit because the fallout on the others would be too harsh.” She flips to a funny announcer’s voice: “Horrible mommy dumps baby with a rock band. Should she be arrested? Or, Insta-baby makes Royce an insta-daddy. Exclusive interviews and photos of the baby to follow for the rest of her life, all while people speculate on just how and when and where the baby-mommy got knocked up…”

She shudders a little. “No wonder Royce can’t sleep. Picturing this story on one of the entertainment networks just made my stomach hurt, too. There’s no way to explain any of this until we find the real mom and figure out what story to launch to the world.”

“What will you do until then?”

She laughs. “Well, we usually make a Plan A. That quickly becomes a Plan B. Which, by the way is our current plan, and you’re part of it now.” She pops another cereal square into her mouth. “But within hours there will be a meeting to create Plan C, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh. Do I get to go to the meetings?”

“Not as of yet, but tonight I’ve been invited to one, during which we time I’m sure shall have a meeting that will lay out possible Plans D, E and F, because we need to stay ready to flip.” She shrugs, laughing a little more. “If it sounds exhausting and hard to keep up, well it is.”

I nod, agreeing with her.

“But we’re used to it. It’s our way of life. You’ll only have to endure it for a short while. Enough gloom and doom. Let’s not think about it anymore. Let’s talk about you.” The twinkle in her eyes comes back. “You have no idea how excited I am to have an actual girl near to my age here in the suite for a while. Yay! Out of chaos comes a new friend for me!” She claps her hands in front of her heart and I decide that this girl is so cute, bright and fun, that it’s no wonder Hunter Kennedy fell for her. “Do you hear that?” Vere leaps up and dashes toward the sound of the dinging elevator. “That’s got to be the food Royce ordered.” She points out at the pool deck. “If you grab the baby monitor we can relocate outside by the pool? Meet you out there?”

I glance in the direction she’s pointing and take in the long roof-top deck with an oval shaped pool in the center of it. “Do you think the monitor will work out there?”

“It’s only a few feet from here. Of course it will.”