"…Loneliness is tragical. So help me, I can't win this war…"
January 16, 2006 Rachel Daniels. The director looked at the file and smiled. If anyone could handle this assignment, Rachel could. Rachel was a veteran. She'd been with the agency for five years now, joining them directly after finishing her post-graduate degree, and almost from the beginning the director had recognized that she had the ability to deal with difficult situations in a tactful and efficient manner. So, despite the fact that she was relatively young, Rachel usually got the tough assignments. Sometimes clients were skeptical of her abilities in light of her age, but those who demanded an older, 'more experienced' person usually came back to Rachel in the end anyway. And the best part was that Rachel herself, although she knew how valuable her skills were, wasn't hung-up on titles or recognition. She would slip into whatever role the client decided was appropriate. It didn't matter to her whether she was called an executive housekeeper, a family manager (that title had raised a lot of eyebrows at the agency-and had prompted a number of gag gifts left in Rachel's mailbox, which she had taken with good humor), au pair, or nanny. Rachel had explained to the director that the job was the same, no matter what you called it-helping people in need. Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded trite and superior, but Rachel meant it. She made a good living, but she always gave of herself. She had also told the director once that a little of her stayed behind with every household she had worked in. But, the director thought with a smile, she always seemed able to renew herself. At the knock on the office door, the director called for Rachel to come in. She smiled up at the young woman and motioned her to take a seat. "Did everything go smoothly at the Baxter's?" she asked. "It was fine," Rachel responded. "They don't really need me at this point, and haven't for about a month. This was just what was needed to shake them into realizing it." "Well, here goes then. This one's going to keep you busy. It's open-ended and the family has asked that I not tell you a lot about it-they'd rather explain themselves. What I do need to tell you is that the situation is very delicate. You'll need to be very circumspect." She smiled again. "Routine for you, of course, but I still have to say it." Rachel nodded. She'd had assignments like this before-it usually meant that someone in the household was prominent enough to want to avoid media attention. She turned concerned eyes to the director. "Children?" she asked quietly. The director nodded. "Two of them. Three and four-and-a-half years old." "No serious medical problems?" "None that we've been informed of." Rachel smiled. "Well, that's a blessing. So what am I this time?" "The family is looking for a full-charge housekeeper/nanny. You'll be the sole adult in the house most of the time. That's why I need you for this." The director looked down at the file on the desk. "And that-along with the address for your interview-is all I am allowed to tell you. Are you okay with that?" "You know I am. When do I report for the interview?" "Monday morning-eleven o'clock. Go have a nice weekend. Rest up. I have a feeling you're going to need it." "Maybe they won't want to hire me," Rachel grinned. "Yeah. And maybe pigs fly. Go. I'll talk to you Monday afternoon." As Rachel headed back to the Baxter's house to finish packing her things, she wondered about her new assignment. Something about the director's manner had her a little on edge. There was something out of the ordinary about this next job. She had seen a lot in her five years with the agency. Drug abuse, broken homes, terminal illness, just about anything that prompted a family to look outside the home for answers to problems. And Rachel knew just how much anguish there was in someone coming to the decision that outside help was necessary. That was why she had applied to work for this agency. They always got the tough cases. She shook her head and chuckled at herself. I'm certainly not going to know any more about this until Monday morning, she thought. No use making myself crazy for the whole weekend. She reached over and turned on the radio. "-And that was the Backstreet Boys latest, coming in at number three this week. For all of you out there, who keep track of this sort of thing, the Boys are in the final weeks of the European leg of their album tour. They'll be back in the States soon to rest up for a couple weeks and will then head on out to dazzle fans in the North American tour. Of course, tickets were sold out weeks ago, but you know that your favorite radio station is always looking out for you. So if you're caller number 100, we'll make sure that you have a pair of tickets for the sold out concert right here in Lexington-hometown to two-fifths of your favorite band. And those tickets come with backstage passes for the lucky winner-so you'll be able to say a personal hello to Kentucky's pride and joy-Kevin Richardson and Brian Littrell. Caller 100-come and get 'em." Rachel grinned. Winning tickets was probably the only way she'd ever get to see one of their concerts. Not that she didn't have the money, but she never seemed to have the time to go through the process of standing on line, either in person or electronically. Oh well. She'd survived this long without seeing them up close and personal. She'd survive this latest concert blitz too. Still, it would probably be fun to be there. She didn't have any particular favorite in the band. She hadn't invested the time in learning about them to know enough to be able to choose a favorite. She just liked the music. Over the years, their style had evolved and changed subtly with the changing trends. But they were still unmistakably the Backstreet Boys. No one else sounded like them. And the thing about their concerts-at least the ones that she had seen on tape-was that they invariably included a section that was a medley of their older songs that led the listener from their beginnings, through all the changes and brought them up to the present. And most of it was still done a cappella. She loved that sound. She arrived at the Baxter house and went directly to her quarters. While she was packing, she turned on her stereo and queued up one of their albums. One of the really early ones. An import from Europe. She smiled as she listened. They all sounded so young-so full of energy and hope. And life had been good to them. They had achieved so much over the last fourteen years. No wonder so many places were eager to call them 'favorite sons'. But the only places that that title really stuck and held were Orlando, Florida and Lexington, Kentucky. Maybe-maybe she should try to win some tickets this time. She laughed. With my luck, I'd win them and then not be able to use them because of work. Stick with your CDs, Rachel. Less aggravation. Chapter 1