Man Behind The Voice

Jack remained silent.

“You know that Rappaport woman is nothing but a stranger.” One-Eye grimaced. “’Course, you weren’t looking at her like a stranger.”

Jack shot the older man a scathing look, but his irritation bounced off the man’s weathered hide.

One-Eye still looked perplexed at the reason for their impromptu visit to Denver, so Jack offered what he hoped would sound like a logical explanation. “I’ve been thinking about her lately. I wanted to make sure she was doing all right.”

“Uh-huh.” But it was clear that One-Eye thought Jack was leaving something out.

“Now that I’ve had a chance to see her, I’m ready to go home. Do you have any objections?”

One-Eye shook his head. “That’s fine by me. But why can’t we have a steak and a good night’s sleep before we get back on another plane?”

Jack opened his mouth to insist that they leave Denver. Now. But seeing One-Eye’s hopeful expression, he relented.

“Fine. I’ll book us on a flight tomorrow morning.”

One-Eye grinned. “Now you’re talking! Let’s find us a place to eat.”

“COME ALONG, DEAR. We won’t take no for an answer.”

Eleanor grimaced, realizing that what Maude said was true. Once Minnie and Maude got an idea in their heads, they would move Heaven and Earth to get their own way.

In many ways Eleanor was grateful for her landladies’ single-minded determinedness. Such resolve had led them to accompany Regina Rappaport to her daughter’s hospital room after the accident. While Regina had stayed by Eleanor’s bedside, reassuring Eleanor time and again that she hadn’t miscarried, Minnie and Maude had searched for the best specialists in the country. These same doctors had treated Eleanor’s injuries, allowing her to see some light and shadow and had given her hope for future transplant surgery. As Eleanor had begun to recover more fully, Minnie and Maude had been there to comfort her when her fiancе had abruptly called off their two-year engagement. They’d weathered her moods from rage to despair—to the euphoria she’d experienced when her ultrasound had revealed no evident trauma to the baby. Bit by bit, they’d bullied and cajoled her into rejoining the “real world.” The sisters had even offered her their upstairs apartment in Denver so that Eleanor could continue to live on her own and fend for herself. And once the baby was born…well, they had already made plans to be her live-in nannies.

But there were times Eleanor wished Minnie and Maude could be a bit more malleable. Like tonight. After the day she’d had, Eleanor wasn’t in the mood to go out to dinner in a crowded restaurant, eat unfamiliar food, and chit-chat with her mother’s godmothers.

“Go on. Get dressed. There’s a love,” Minnie said with a push at Eleanor’s shoulders.

Rolling her eyes, Eleanor realized it would be much easier to surrender than fight.

“Just grit your teeth and bear it, little one,” she murmured to the tiny life nestled beneath her heart. Then, with a soothing rub of her hand over her stomach to still the sudden flurry of agitated kicks, she plodded to the bedroom.

JACK WAS SURPRISED when One-Eye decided upon an intimate, elegant restaurant located on the ground floor of the Kensington Hotel. The two of them were led to a small room that held only four tables and had been decorated to resemble a Victorian dining hall.

A waiter in a starched white shirt and pleated black trousers, handed them a menu, then went to gather their drinks.

One-Eye clapped his hands together, surveying the list of food. “Hot damn! This is better than any lunch wagon, isn’t it?”

Since both of them had spent most of the last three months eating from catering trucks on the set, Jack had to agree. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to sit down to a meal without having a thousand work details waiting for his attention.

“So what’s your next project?” One-Eye asked.

Jack shrugged. “I’ve got an action film scheduled for the fall, but I’m thinking of taking some time off until then.”

One-Eye nodded sagely. “That sounds like a winning plan. You look like hell.”

Jack grimaced. “Thanks a lot.”

“No, I mean it. You look like a horse that’s been ridden hard and put away without a rubdown—and it’s not just the accident. You’ve been pushing yourself too much these past few years.”

The waiter arrived with their drinks and appetizers, preventing Jack from replying. As he gave his order, he glanced at an oval mirror hanging above a marble fireplace.

Did he really look that bad? Granted, he’d been working hard, lately, but after a couple of weeks, he’d be fine.

“Jack, I know you think I’m pestering you,” One-Eye continued as soon as the waiter had left. “But I’ve been worried about you, boy.”

Everyone was a boy to One-Eye.

“I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before in this business. A man gets himself a reputation for being good at his stunts, he takes every job he can, works long hours, forgets about his own needs.”

“Needs?” Jack echoed, his eyes drawn to a figure swimming into view in the old mirror.

Long, dark hair. Blue eyes.

His gut tensed in reaction, a chill sweeping through his body. Eleanor Rappaport? What was she doing here?

“A man’s got to have a life outside his job,” One-Eye was saying. “Why, I can’t remember the last time I even saw you with a woman. It’s not natural, I tell you. If you ask me, I think you should…”

One-Eye’s advice lapped over Jack like a warm wave, barely registering in his consciousness. Instead, he found himself watching Eleanor Rappaport as she made her way to the table opposite his own.

Sit down, he found himself silently wishing. Sit down there, facing me.

As if she’d heard the words being spoken aloud, she hesitated, then made her way to the far side. A tall woman wearing a raven wig held her chair, then gestured for another elderly woman to do the same. Jack immediately recognized the smaller old woman as being an occupant of the brownstone with the shocking-pink door. Eleanor must live with the pair of women.

Jack watched Eleanor fold her cane, then place it in the bag she’d set on the floor. When she straightened, she looked his way, and he averted his eyes—then mocked himself for such an instinctive reaction. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t know he was staring at her.

“Are you finished?”

He started when the waiter reached toward his half-eaten salad.

“No. I’m still working on it.”

“Of course.”

The waiter placed a bowl of thick seafood chowder on the table, then retreated.

“She’s a pretty girl,” One-eye commented slyly.

Jack glanced at One-Eye, then away.

“Yes. She is.”

“Isn’t that the same woman you saw earlier?”

Jack forced himself to keep his attention on his plate and eat.

“Yes. That’s her.”