“That’s why I was calling. Can we push it to seven? Jamie got delayed in London and missed his flight home, so he won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s fine. I thought I would take Em and Max to that new bakery that just opened in Old Town.”
“Thank you. I offered to do Jamie’s shopping to save him time, but for some reason he didn’t take me up on the offer.”
Now it was Serena’s turn to laugh. Her brother the chef had managed to marry a woman who couldn’t even boil water without ruining it, although Serena thought Andrea might be playing up the helpless routine to benefit from Jamie’s amazing cooking. Then again, she’d once suffered through a lunch that her sister-in-law had prepared, so maybe not.
“Seven o’clock. We’ll be there. Em is anxious to show you how much progress she’s made on ‘Für Elise.’”
“I can’t wait. Tell her to practice hard, because as soon as she finishes this one, I have something really fun for her to try.”
“I will. See you tomorrow.” Serena ended the call and set her phone on the charger on the nightstand by her bed. What Andrea lacked in cooking ability, she made up for in musical talent, considering she had once been a concert pianist and now gave lessons to Em every Sunday before supper. And that was just something she did for fun while she ran her own hospitality consulting firm. By comparison, Serena filled her days with volunteering and teaching art at Em’s school—the very program her date tonight was trying to eliminate.
How could Daniel have even asked her out, knowing that he was essentially lobbying against the one thing Serena really loved?
He didn’t know, she realized. Because to men like him, art was something you dabbled in, not something you were passionate about or made a living from. Not something that had any real, tangible value. Serena removed her makeup and tied her hair up into a ponytail before heading downstairs to the kitchen to make some tea. She paused in the reception room to admire the collection of contemporary art on the white plaster walls. Unlike the rest of the modern interior, which had been selected by Edward’s designer, these pieces held special meaning. She’d discovered and cultivated each of the artists, some of whom had gone on to be internationally recognized. The pride never failed to come with a pang of regret, a reminder that part of her life was long past. The regret deepened a degree when she moved down the hallway to a partially open door.
The space remained exactly as she’d left it: a blank canvas set up on an easel, plastic bins corralling paints and brushes on the small table next to it. She reached for the light, and her hand made a trail through the dust on the finger plate. Maybe she should turn this back into a storage room, as it had been when she and Edward moved in. She’d not used it for much else in the past several years. She clicked the light off and shut the door firmly.
Daniel and his ilk were going to win the argument, she knew, not because they were right but because she lacked the energy to convince the school otherwise. And she really couldn’t blame them. How could she convince them of the value of art when she could barely convince herself?
Meals at Jamie and Andrea’s house were always an event, partly because Andrea had a knack for making the simplest things elegant, but mostly because Jamie’s idea of a low-key dinner was a mere four courses. It also might have had something to do with the restrained opulence of their renovated Victorian home, just a handful of miles from Serena’s house. Right now, they were sampling Jamie’s new spring recipes in the expansive all-white kitchen surrounded by gleaming stainless steel and Carrara marble.
“The lamb is good, but it just doesn’t feel special enough,” Serena said when she set down her fork and knife at last. “Maybe it’s because beans don’t say haute cuisine to me.”
“She’s right,” Andrea said, “from one lima-bean hater to another.”
“That’s why we call them butter beans,” Jamie said, but he seemed resigned to the pronouncement. “What about the sea bass?”
“Incredible,” Serena said at the same time Andrea said, “Amazing.”
“Sea bass it is,” Jamie said. “I prefer it myself.”
Serena nodded and sipped her wine—a good dry Riesling that Jamie had brought up from the cellar. Yes, they had a wine cellar. It still amazed her that the grand house managed to feel comfortable and inviting, something she attributed to her brother and his wife’s impeccable sense of style.
“Can I go play the piano again?” Em asked, folding her napkin beside her plate.
“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with Andrea,” Serena said.
“Be my guest, Em,” Andrea said. “You can work on your new section.”
“Can I go too?” Max piped up.
Serena smiled at her son. “Yes, you can go too.”
The children half tumbled, half scurried to the parlor, where Andrea’s baby grand lived, leaving the three adults sitting at the round glass table. It wasn’t exactly like old times, but it was nice to finally have family nearby, good to have a regular routine. When she and Edward had moved from Edinburgh to Inverness for his work, the tiny city had felt impossibly lonely. The addition of her brother and his wife seemed, after eight years, to make it home.
“So I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Jamie said.
Serena took another sip of wine with a smile. “Uh-oh. Sounds ominous.”
“Not ominous. I wanted to see how you would feel about getting involved with the hotel on Skye again.”
“Involved how, exactly? The renovations are complete and the new manager is in place.”
“They are and he is. I’m asking if you would consider buying your way back in.” Jamie reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “Let’s face it. Ian and Grace are hardly in country anymore with their new jobs. Andrea has a business to run, and I’ve still not found anyone to take over the chef de cuisine position at Notting Hill since Jeremy left. We’re barely at our own homes, let alone the hotel.”
“Why now? You and Ian have gotten over your differences. You don’t need me to play referee anymore.” Then Serena noticed Jamie’s and Andrea’s clasped hands beneath the table. “You’re pregnant! That’s why you want me to step in!”
Andrea’s smile faltered, and she looked to Jamie. Serena’s heart sank. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay.” Andrea took a deep breath. “We’ve only been trying about seven months, but the doctors all agree it’s a long shot. There’s just too much wrong for me to carry a baby.”
Serena’s stomach twisted with guilt. She’d just assumed they’d eventually start a family, but neither Jamie nor Andrea had mentioned that there might be barriers to that goal. She fumbled for a way out of her faux pas, but before she could speak, Jamie stepped in. “Which is why we’re starting the process to adopt.”
Serena blinked for a moment, and then a smile broke over her face. “I’m so happy for you! You’ll make fantastic parents. I had no idea you were considering adoption.”
“Blame Ian,” Andrea said, her smile returning. “He and Grace are always talking about the children in India who need homes, and we realized that there are plenty of children in Scotland who need families as well. But we know it won’t be easy, and we want to have as much time to devote to him or her as we can.”
“Right. How are you going to work that?” Serena asked, looking to Jamie.
“Andrea’s hired two new account managers so she can stop traveling and run her business from here. I’m going back to London next week to start interviews, but it could be a long process. I have my eye on someone, but I’m not sure I can entice him away from his current position.”
“You mean you’re trying to poach from the top,” Serena guessed with a laugh. There were only a few restaurateurs in London with higher profiles than Jamie.
He flashed a quick grin that said she was right. “The point is, we don’t feel that we can commit to being as involved in the hotel as we should be. Malcolm is doing a great job managing the ho
tel, but he’s not an owner. We need to keep our offerings fresh, continue to bring in guests. After what you did with the gallery, this should be a simple thing.”
“That was ten years ago, Jamie—”
“Skills don’t expire.”
“—and I have two children, one of whom is in school. I can’t just pick up at a moment’s notice like you can.”
The tinkle of piano music from the other room stopped, followed by a crash and a wail. Serena put aside her napkin, but Andrea shook her head and rose instead. “Let me. It couldn’t have been anything important. There’s nothing truly breakable in the parlor.”
She strode out of the room, leaving Serena sitting with her brother. “You two seem happy.”
“We are.” He smiled at her. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I don’t know, Jamie. I need to think about it.”
“If it’s the money, we can—”
“It’s not the money. I invested the proceeds of the sale. I can liquidate them if I have to. It’s more the commitment.”
“I never thought you’d be reluctant to visit Skye.”
“It has nothing to do with that.” Serena folded her hands on the table and lowered her voice. “I’ve tried to keep Em and Max’s lives as stable as possible since Edward died. And now everything seems to be going smoothly. I’m not so sure I want to disrupt this.”
“What’s there to disrupt? You can work on the marketing ideas at home. Then you go out there one weekend a month, talk to Malcolm, check on Aunt Muriel. It’s a mini holiday every few weeks.”
What Jamie said sounded logical, but he’d never had to make the three-hour drive with two children. It might sound simple now, but after a few months, she could guarantee it would begin to wear on all of them. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it.”
“Good. Think on it.” Jamie’s face brightened, and without even turning, Serena knew that Andrea had returned with the kids. He seemed to light up whenever his wife was in the room. Truly, they were so in love, it would have been nauseating if she didn’t wish them so well. Max ran straight to Serena and climbed into her lap with his three-year-old enthusiasm. Em, on the other hand, quietly slipped into the chair beside her.
“Your ‘Für Elise’ is coming along nicely, Em,” Jamie said. “When is your mean piano teacher going to let you move on to something else?”
“Stop.” Andrea stuck out her tongue at her husband and gave him a nudge with her shoulder. “She’ll move on when she’s mastered it. And she’s very close from what I just heard.”
Serena looked between them and felt an answering pang in her own chest. The way they were working together so intently to give their future child what he or she needed only highlighted how suited for each other they were. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of resentment over her own situation—not that Edward had died and left her, but that she’d never had the opportunity to experience that kind of companionship in her ten-year marriage. But she’d gotten Em and Max out of it, and that far overshadowed anything she’d lacked personally.
“Dessert?” Jamie shoved away from the table. “I want your honest opinion of these.”
Half an hour later, her honest opinion was that Jamie needed to hire the baker as his pastry chef. There was dense, moist almond cake; a chocolate-chili soufflé; and deep-fried zeppole filled with a light pastry cream. All were fantastic. Even Em, who hadn’t been born with a sweet tooth, devoured everything set in front of her.
When they finally slipped on their coats to leave, Serena thought she might need to be rolled out the front entrance.
“Think about it,” Jamie murmured when he hugged her. “Let me know.”
“I will.” Serena turned to Andrea and squeezed her tight. “Keep me posted on the adoption news. I’m so excited for you.”
Serena stepped out onto the front stoop, holding tight to Max’s hand as they descended the stairs to where she had parked on the drive. Her breath puffed out in front of her, hanging in the cold March air. The calendar might be clawing its way toward spring, but winter clung tenaciously to the Scottish Highlands. Even now, snow from a recent storm dotted the shady places beneath the hedges that marked off the formal gardens. Serena bundled her children into her dusty red Vauxhall and buckled Max into his car seat.
“What was that about, Mum?” Em asked as they pulled back onto the street and headed for their own home a few miles away.
“Nothing. Just some business matters.”
“Are we going to Skye?”
Serena caught her daughter’s eye in the rearview mirror. Exactly how much had Em heard? “For a visit maybe. But you have school and music lessons, and I have my art classes. We can’t go for too long.”
Em slumped back in her seat, disappointment evident in her young face.
Serena turned down the long drive to their home, the bright glow through its picture windows the only spot of light in the dark surroundings. Without the summer foliage in the front garden, the newer home’s angled rooflines, white plaster, and Tudor detailing looked even starker than usual. She parked in the drive and twisted around to give instructions to her kids. But Max was already asleep, clutching his battered orange giraffe in one chubby hand.
“Get your rucksack and then go straight up to the bath,” she whispered to Em. “I’ll get your brother.”
Em obeyed, grabbing the sparkly pink bag off the rear seat. Serena got Max out of the car seat and juggled her handbag as she fished her keys from her pocket. As soon as she pushed open the solid-oak entry door, she carried her son to his room, pulling off his tiny trainers as she went. She put him in bed fully clothed and pulled the duvet up over him. With any luck, he’d be so tired from the late supper and playing at Jamie’s house that he would sleep all the way through the night.
Fat chance, Serena thought. He’d barely slept through an entire night since he was born, which meant that Serena had gotten good at pretending she wasn’t sleep deprived and passing off her forgetfulness as busyness.
“Mum?” Em called. “Are you going to tuck me in?”
Serena slipped from Max’s room and shut the door, then padded into the room next door, where Em was pulling on her pink pajamas. “That was the fastest bath in the history of baths.”
“You didn’t say to take a bath,” Em said with a shrug, climbing beneath the covers. “You just said to go to the bath.”
Serena chuckled and perched on the edge of the bed. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“More than chocolate?”
Serena pretended to think for a moment. “That’s a hard one, but yes, more than chocolate. Now why don’t you say your bedtime prayers?”
Listening to Em thank God for her blessings as she did every night—her family, her toys, their pretty house—Serena couldn’t help the pang of disquiet that crept into her. She pushed it deep down while she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, then turned on Em’s desk lamp in the corner before turning off the overhead light. Still, the restlessness dogged her all the way down the hall to her stark, massive bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her plush surroundings as though they were foreign. In some ways, they were. Edward had chosen this sprawling home, with its extensive grounds and water view, just as he’d hired the decorator to redo the interior in his particular contemporary taste. Had she been given a choice, she never would have chosen the sharp lines and bright-white walls that dominated the home, especially when her style leaned toward cozy wood and fluffy duvets that invited you to curl up in bed with a cup of tea. After her husband’s death, Serena had considered moving into Inverness’s charming city center, which was more in line with her own tastes, but by then they were firmly established in their suburban routine. There was no reason to inject any more uncertainty into their lives.
Even so, she couldn’t deny that what Jamie had suggested intrigued her. She’d grown up on Skye, unlike her brothers, who had gone to boarding school, and she’d spen
t nearly as much time at the hotel as she had at her own house. If she were honest, she also missed working. She’d loved her job managing a gallery in Edinburgh before she met Edward. Loved finding talented artists. Loved marketing and promoting their work. Maybe the hotel wasn’t the same thing, but it would be a challenge to both her mind and her creativity, something that had been sorely lacking in the past decade.
But what Jamie suggested required more than occasional visits, whatever he might say now. She would need to be there weekly, if not full-time. What would all that back-and-forth do to the kids? They’d already been through so much change in the past three years. Didn’t she owe it to them to keep their lives as stable as possible?
No. No matter how much Daniel’s assumptions had rankled last night, her most important job was to be a mother to her two children. They needed her even more now that she had to be both mum and dad. Just because the career change hadn’t been entirely of her own choosing didn’t mean she wasn’t going to devote herself completely to the domestic life.
She managed to bury all thoughts of the hotel and art for the rest of the evening, but not long after she got home from dropping Em off at school the next morning, her mobile rang, flashing the school’s phone number on the screen. Her heart seized for what felt like a full minute. She answered cautiously.
“Mrs. Stewart, this is Ada Douglass in the Highlands Academy office. Dr. Clark has asked if you would be able to come speak with him this morning.”
“Is something wrong? Is Em all right?”
“Emmy is fine, Mrs. Stewart. May I tell Dr. Clark you’re coming?”
“I’ll be right there.” Serena clicked off, her heart jump-starting to a hammer this time. It was the call she’d been dreading—the one that signaled the end of the art program and her employment at Highlands Academy—but that didn’t make it any less painful. “Come, Maxie love. We need to go back to school. You can eat your biscuit in the car.”
Max didn’t protest when she hoisted him on her hip and carried him to the car, too focused on the biscuit’s chocolate coating melting over his fist. The entire drive to school, she rehearsed her speech about why the school was making a colossal mistake by cutting their art and music programs, and how the arts were as crucial to the development of young minds as math and science. But deep down she knew it wouldn’t do any good. This summons meant it was already too late.
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