unless someone was cyber-watching me.”
Shea let out a shaky breath, one she hadn’t known she was holding. Kendrick said nothing just then, but she heard him settle into a chair and typewriter clicks begin.
“Can you do it?” Shea asked hopefully.”
“Of course I can do it,” he replied as if his hacking prowess were at once the most obvious and the most natural thing. “Why didn’t you ask me to set up your cybersecurity before?”
“All I did was quit my job. I thought people would move on to the next. I never anticipated this.
“You should have,” Kendrick replied with a hint of distraction. “People do love to worship their gods. It’s the choice you make when you become a public figure.”
“Only, I’m a private citizen. Kent’s brand was entirely anonymous.”
Kendrick didn’t answer for long seconds and Shea quieted when she heard the clicking of his keys. Just as she had eased into the mildest sense of relief did Kendrick respond.
“Privacy is dead.”
20
The Sunday Dinner
Shea
Delilah whistled, long and low, spinning a little as she walked, beholden with the house before she’d even made it in ten paces. It reminded Shea of her own first time walking through the door. Shea spent most of her own time farther in—in the kitchen, or the office, in the TV room, or the back deck. It was easy for her to forget how impressive some of the entertainment spaces were.
Delilah, at present, was taking in the great room. It was masculine and grandiose—probably the biggest evidence that the house belonged to a man. Shea wondered what lucky taxidermist had been paid a handsome fee for its decor. Though tastefully arranged, there were a disturbing number of hunting trophies that Shea could only conclude had been procured by some rustic designer. The soft-hearted Kendrick would have not hunted these trophies himself.
“Who did you say your friend was?” Delilah asked, still feasting with her eyes, still too caught up to look directly at Shea. “And why the hell didn’t you marry him instead of your shitty ex?“
Shea just shrugged. “Met the wrong guy. Gave him the wrong finger. If I had it to do all over again, I might’ve stayed with him,” she absently quipped.
“So you dated this guy?” Delilah motioned her arms up toward the grand ceilings of Kendrick’s house, as if to indicate the man himself.
“Like, a million years ago. A lot of things have changed.”
Delilah tore her eyes away long enough to pin Shea with an incredulous look.
“The guy must still care about you, to let you stay in his house.”
Shea didn’t mention that plenty of people in her circle owned several properties, were billionaires with a capital “B”, and lent out their expensive houses, boats and cars without thinking twice.
“He’s just generous,” Shea shrugged again. “And too much of a workaholic to play with any of his toys.”
Shea took a fresh look around the unused room herself, wanting to stop talking about Kendrick.
“So do you want the grand tour?”
“I’ve always loved these houses.” Delilah said it wistfully as Shea led the way from room to room. “You have one of the sunset ones.”
Shea’s quizzical look earned her an immediate answer.
“The sunrise ones are eastern-facing. You have one of the best ones—it has a view across the valley, clear to Quail Mountain, and it faces the west.”
Delilah’s knowledge made Shea want to look for the book that Kendrick had mentioned—the coffee table tome that had the original photographs of all of these houses.
“Kendrick told me they were designed by some big deal architect,” Shea confirmed aloud. “I’ve been meaning to look the guy up.”
“What you won’t read in any book…” Delilah began, her voice distracted as she continued to make her way through the rooms, “is that Donovan Packard all but saved John Hamren’s career. He built some famous glass houses in California, back in the seventies. But in the area where he built them, some peeping tom had started stalking a bunch of women. It kind of gave his style a bad name. Donovan Packard brought him here…broke him into building mansions on big lots.”
“The windows have taken some getting used to,” Shea admitted, not wanting to out-and-out say that, even after three months, some part of her was still terrified of this house. “I know it’s supposed to be one-way glass, but still…a year is a long time to live all by yourself when you feel this exposed.”
“We could always trade,” Delilah smirked as they swung by the kitchen long enough for Shea