Serena's Song

by Raina James

  Reluctantly, he reached over to wake her. Stroking his fingers along the curve of one cheekbone, he softly called her name.

  "Serena. We're here."

  Her lips tilted in the faintest of smiles, as if just the sound of his voice pleased her. If only. His hand dropped to her shoulder, giving it a small shake.

  "Serena."

  Her eyes, the bright blue irises cloudy with sleep, opened.

  "Finn?"

  "Yeah. We're here. Time to get up."

  Regretfully, he recognized the instant she realized where she was, and remembered why they were together. She straightened up in her seat, grabbing the jacket when it started to slide to the floor. Flushing, she handed it over.

  "Thanks for the loan."

  "Anytime."

  She noted the rising sun; though they couldn't see it, the sky above the dark trees had lightened considerably. "You should have woken me up. I could have driven for a while so you could rest."

  "And lose my cool-guy-in-a-cool-car image? Nah. Anyway, I'm used to being up late. I'll catch some sleep once we're settled in. Here." He handed her a small ring of keys. "Why don't you get the door while I grab our stuff out of the trunk."

  "Sure." Trying to act nonchalant, she got out of the car and walked up to the veranda. The squeak of the screen door's hinges was a familiar sound when she opened it, and the tarnished-brass wolf's-head knocker still growled menacingly from its place on the much-painted, white interior door.

  "It doesn't look like much has changed," she called over her shoulder as she unlocked the deadbolt. In contrast to the rest of what she'd seen so far, it looked decidedly shiny and new.

  "Some things don't," he said cryptically.

  Wondering what he meant by that, Serena pushed open the door—and stared.

  "What do you think?" She must have been goggling for a while, since she hadn't even heard him join her. He stood close enough for his breath to ruffle the hair covering her ear.

  "Wow." Serena slowly stepped over the threshold. The screen door shut with a small bang, but she was too fascinated by what she was seeing to pay much attention to it.

  Other than the dimensions, the sitting room looked nothing like what she remembered. Gone were the tattered, well-worn pieces of furniture, the charmingly dated paintings and wall hangings. Everything had been replaced or refurbished. The wood floor gleamed with a natural glow that was enhanced by colorful area rugs and a warm-toned paint on the walls. The upholstered furniture suited the rustic theme, the cushions thick and comfortable. At the back, where once a few windows had opened onto the veranda outside, a wall of windows instead looked into an enclosed sunroom.

  "Granddad let me get some of the work done while he was alive, but most of it didn't get done until he was … gone," Finn explained. "Said it was good enough for him and Gran when I was a boy and, I quote, 'Why would I want to change anything, boyo?'"

  They shared a smile. Liam Logan was definitely a man who'd made his own decisions and, once made, there was no swaying him.

  "I had everything redone," Finn continued, walking further into the room, "including the kitchen. I even had another bathroom installed upstairs."

  He led her over to the staircase and started up it. While Finn's room had been on the main level, his grandparents had shared a room upstairs. The rest was mainly given over to storage.

  Not a hint of the cramped, dark space remained. Instead, walls had been taken out to create one large room, well lit by skylights and windows. Two doors led to what proved to be a—mainly empty—walk-in closet and a sumptuous bathroom. French doors opened onto a patio that had been built on the roof of the sunroom below. Serena couldn't resist. She opened one of the glass panels and walked across the patio to rest her hands on the railing.

  The view stole her breath.

  From here, it was possible to look right over the treetops to the lake, which sparkled with brilliant sequins of early morning sunlight. Only a thin strip of the beach was visible, though the dock looked as revamped as the cabin, and the boathouse was new.

  "You must love coming here," she said, facing Finn where he leaned in the doorway, watching her.

  "Actually, I hardly ever come here."

  That surprised her. "Why not?" Why go to all the work of fixing up the cabin, she thought, and not enjoy it?

  He shrugged. "Time, mainly. But I also don't want anyone to know I still own it. If they did, I could forget about using it to get away from everything—like we are now."

  "How did you get all this done, then? Didn't anyone notice?"

  "After my grandfather died, I 'sold' it to myself—one of my incorporated selves, to be exact. The company hired local contractors, pays a service to come in and clean and take care of basic maintenance, that kind of thing. But what am I telling you for? You're the business guru around here."

  She laughed. "Hardly."

  The air was heavy with the scent of green—grass, leaves, pine needles and moisture-rich moss—and the breeze carried the rustling, whispering sounds of forest and water. It would be nice to curl up on one of the lounge chairs with a cup of tea and a book. She shivered and rubbed her arms. It was still too cool for comfort without a sweater, but that would change in just a few short weeks. She felt a bit wistful that she wouldn't be here to enjoy it.

  Back in the bedroom, Serena saw Finn had put her backpack and computer case on the bed. They looked small on the broad expanse of the king-sized mattress.

  "You take this room," said Finn, following her gaze. "I'll be downstairs in the spare room."

  Spare room? He meant his old room, more likely. From the look in his eye, she suspected there wouldn't be much point in arguing that he keep the master bedroom.

  "Okay. Thanks."

  They stood awkwardly for a moment, until he moved towards the stairs. "I'm going to head down and hit the sack for a while."

  "Of course! You must be exhausted."

  "I'll live. Look, just make yourself at home. Relax, kick back." Finn detoured to a wall unit opposite the bed, opening its doors to reveal a bachelor's dream entertainment system. "There's CDs, movies, satellite—whatever you want."

  "I'm sure I'll be fine. You go ahead and get some rest."

  "Great."

  "Oh, wait!"

  He paused, one hand on the banister, and looked at her inquiringly.

  "Where's the phone? I need to call the kids and let them know where they can reach me."

  "There's no landline here, but you can use my cell and give the kids that number. I'll get it out of my bag and leave it out on the kitchen counter for you."

  Serena nodded and he again started down the staircase.

  "Finn, wait." Going over to stand by the open railing, she noticed his position a few steps down put them nearly at eye level. He watched her solemnly. "I just wanted to say thanks. You could have just left me to deal with everything when this all came out, but you didn't. I really appreciate all that you're doing."

  For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned towards her, bracing his hands over hers on the railing. When she would have eased away, he held her in place with gentle pressure. Finn's jaw tightened, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. Lifting one hand—unhurried, as if trying not to spook her—he traced her lips with his fingertips.

  "Serena, I already left you once, and that didn't work worth a damn. I'm not making the same mistake twice."

  Wide-eyed, her thoughts tumbling, she watched as he turned away and went down the stairs. Finn regretted leaving her? He'd hinted at it before, but she'd refused to let herself believe that's what he'd meant. Now, there was no mistaking him. He'd come right out and said it.

  After a few moments, she heard a door downstairs open and softly close. Serena let go of the banister and walked back onto the patio, forgetting about the chill she'd felt earlier. She stood at the railing, not really seeing the beauty anymore.

  What does he want from me?

  She'd assumed his passionate kiss at her house
had been an impulse, a nostalgic nod to what had been, even an attempt to see if he could still make her want him. But, if what he said was true? Did he want something more from her?

  She shook her head impatiently. Of course not. Who was she kidding? Despite all her hopes, Finn Logan, aspiring musician, and the young, naïve Serena Harper hadn't stood a chance. Why would Riff Logan, rock-world superstar, and Serena Jeffries, widowed single mom and small-town businesswoman, fare any better?

  Logic aside, Finn's words had still managed to fan a tiny spark of that young girl's smothered hope.

  Her thoughts in turmoil, Serena waited a while longer—long enough to be sure Finn had fallen asleep—before venturing downstairs herself.

  * * * *

  "I'm glad you guys are having so much fun. I miss you already!"

  Katie's laugh bubbled over the cell phone's clear connection. "Well, Jack's a bit of a stick, but he'll get over it."

  "What do you mean, he's a stick?" asked Serena, frowning. "Is he giving your grandparents a hard time?"

  "No. I think he's just sulking because of the whole Riff Logan thing."

  "Ah. Um. What about Finn? Have there been any more stories or anything?"

  "Oh no, nothing like that. It's just that you knew Riff Logan, and Jack didn't know you did, and he's so big on Morven and all that. You know?"

  Serena did know. Considering how much he liked Morven, she could understand how he might be a bit out of sorts that she hadn't told him about her connection with the band's lead singer and songwriter. Honestly, it hadn't even occurred to her to mention it because she'd never thought it would ever be an issue.

  "I hope he doesn't stay mad too long," she said. "I'd hate to think this was spoiling your trip. You guys have been looking forward to this for months."

  "Chill, Mom. He'll get over it."

  "Okay. Well, you've got the number where you can reach me, right? You can call me anytime."

  "Sure, Mom. Hey, Grandma says she wants to talk to you."

  "All right, honey. Tell Jack I called when he gets back with Grandpa. Love you."

  "Love you too, Mom. Kisses. Here's Grandma."

  As she waited for Elizabeth to come on the line, Serena started opening the kitchen cupboards to take stock of the food situation. She could hear her mother-in-law speaking in the background, suggesting Katie keep an eye out for Grandpa and Jack.

  "Serena?"

  She closed the drawer she was snooping in and leaned against the counter. "Hi, Elizabeth. How was your trip down?"

  "There was a bit of a delay with our connecting flight, but we're all settled in now. How are things in town? Is everything all cleared up?"

  And so her mother-in-law summed up a national news story and a legion of microphone-toting reporters as a small matter to "clear up." Serena rolled her eyes, but answered calmly, "Slowly dying down, I think. I was getting a bit frazzled fielding all the calls, though, and somehow my cell phone number got out there. That's part of the reason I'm calling."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. Since I'd planned to take the week off from work anyway, I thought it might be a good idea to get out of town for a few days. If I'm not around, there's nothing to report on." She repeated the condensed version of Finn's argument without a qualm.

  "Hmmmm." Serena could almost see her mother-in-law tapping her perfectly manicured nails as she contemplated all the social angles. "That sounds like an excellent way to handle this situation, Serena. A discreet silence. Yes, I think that's just perfect."

  Her mother-in-law's approval of the plan inspired a twinge of guilt, especially when she knew what a change her reaction would undergo if Elizabeth found out who had suggested Serena get away for a while and, even more horrifying, that she was sharing a remote house with him right now.

  She cleared her throat. "Anyway, since I can't use my cell phone, I've got a different number you can reach me at any time." She rattled off Finn's number.

  "What area code's that?"

  "I don't know. I'm using a friend's cell phone."

  "Hmmm."

  Serena tensed, waiting for Elizabeth to ask which friend had loaned her the phone. She mentally crossed her fingers. Please don’t ask, please don't ask! I don’t want to get into this right now. Please don't ask.

  To her relief, her mother-in-law simply read back the number to confirm she'd taken it down correctly. "I've got it, dear. Goodness, it will be nice when everything is back to normal." Before Serena could agree and bring the call to a polite end, Elizabeth continued, "Thankfully, I've managed to put out a few minor fires from here, so that should help move things along in the right direction."

  "Fires?" Serena asked warily.

  "Oh, nothing major, not to worry." Elizabeth's tone was one of airy dismissal. "That business with you and that musician has stirred up some talk in other areas. You have to admit, Serena, that kind of thing, no matter how old the news, is bound to raise a few eyebrows."

  "I suppose—"

  "There were those who thought you were too young to head up the chamber of commerce, and they pounced on this as an opportunity to try to argue you might not be the best person for the job, image-wise. I made a few phone calls when we arrived last night, and I think I've got that nipped nicely in the bud. Then there's Melanie Rogers, of course."

  "Melanie?"

  "Oh my, yes. You know she's been lobbying—and quite obviously, I might add—to snatch the Tux and Such gala out from under you."

  Serena snorted. "She's welcome to it."

  Elizabeth's shocked silence didn't last long. "I beg your pardon? Serena, do you really not care if the club's council members appoint someone else to head the gala?"

  Serena winced. She didn't want to get into this right now. The only reason she'd gotten involved in the event in the first place was because Michael had made such a big deal out of it. Good for his image as the town's golden boy to have his wife co-ordinate the biggest social event of the year. Personally, Serena hated all the politicking and wrangling and ego-soothing that went with the other responsibilities. As far as she was concerned, it was all one big headache. Deliberately, Serena pushed the familiar resentment aside.

  The only reason she'd kept doing it after Michael died was because Elizabeth savored the social coup. Frankly, Serena just didn't have the time for it anymore. If Melanie wanted the job, Serena would be the first to second her nomination to the selection committee.

  "Elizabeth, can we talk about this later? I should let you get back to your holiday. Tell the kids they can call me at this number any time. I'll check back in with you tomorrow night."

  She plowed ahead until her mother-in-law reluctantly said goodbye. Cutting the connection, she huffed out a cleansing breath and punched in another number from memory. Next up, Simple Pleasures.

  Maddie assured her everything was fine with the store. Unfortunately, she reported Serena was still the talk of town. Somehow, it had gotten around that Finn had been seen around the area, even in Simple Pleasures. That surprised her—Finn hadn't mentioned he'd gone into the store. He'd also apparently been ticketed for speeding in his "flashy sports car." That traffic stop had likely made Boscoe's year, Maddie quipped.

  Long story short, even though the out-of-town media appeared to be losing interest, it didn't look like the townsfolk would do so anytime soon.

  Ah, if only the gossip about the local Sunday school teacher's D-and-s website had hit the streets this week instead of a few months ago. Then everyone would be agog about silver poles, black leather and adult-sized flannel diapers—and who'd been wearing them for Mistress Mary, Maddie said with an evil laugh—instead of gossiping about who Widow Jeffries had dated fifteen years ago.

  Maddie took down Finn's number, too, then had to hang up to serve a customer. Putting the tiny cell down, Serena sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and considered what she should do now. Finn would probably be out for a while. He'd been up all night driving. No matter what he said, she was sure he needed the rest. She
was restless, at loose ends.

  She had her laptop; she could get some work done. Not in the mood.

  The fridge, freezer and cupboards were all fully stocked. Finn must have had his service get the cabin ready for occupants. Knowing what Wolf Lake was like—no different from most other small communities, in that everyone knew everyone else's business—she was surprised he'd been able to keep his ownership of the cabin a secret. Money was a great lip-locker, she supposed.

  The house was almost unbearably quiet. She couldn't hear so much as a floorboard creak. It would be easy to imagine she was all alone if she weren't so aware of Finn's presence filling every corner of the place.

  Impatient with her musings, she started pulling out the ingredients to make a simple lasagna. With the speed of an experienced soccer mom on a deadline, she threw the casserole together, put the covered dish in the fridge and restored the kitchen to its former gleaming beauty.

  Then she went upstairs, determined to wallow in a tub of near-scalding water, and sample some of the high-end bath salts she'd seen lined up on the counter. This was the first day of her own vacation, after all. Why shouldn't she enjoy it?

  Chapter 9

  Jack noticed the girls as soon as he walked into the hotel's café. It was an open, airy place full of ceramic tile, glass blocks and leafy green ferns sprouting from shiny silver flower boxes, but it lacked the homey comfort of his mother's shop, Simple Pleasures. Still, the rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans and baked goods soothed the twinge of homesickness an almost-fifteen-year-old boy would never admit to feeling.

  A veteran of his mother's version of the café scene, Jack went to the counter and ordered a frosted latte. He checked out the four girls while he waited, trying to look like he wasn't looking—girls had definitely gotten a lot more interesting lately.

  They were seated around a circular table that was barely big enough to hold their cups. A few years older than he was, they looked different from the girls back home. He couldn't quite decide why. Instead of shorts, they wore pleated miniskirts and short shirts designed to bare their tanned midriffs. Jewelry dangled from ears and wrists. Bags with familiar store logos formed a pile on the floor around their chairs. Noticing the bags in turn drew his eyes to the slim, tanned legs they were piled around. One girl had a small, stylized star tattooed on her ankle.