Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  She need only to set a date, and pick out her dress. Her mother and the wedding planner would glory in taking care of all the details, while she toiled at the hospital with her huge engagement diamond throwing scatters of light from her computer keyboard. It was time to make a decision.

  Impulsively, she threw back the sheets from the bed and went to her office. Everyone got married in April, May, or June. Or messed up other people’s schedules by having their ceremony over a holiday weekend. Serena arbitrarily picked the second weekend in … October. Yes, that would be it. Her finger pecked the square labeled the 13th. A Saturday, so the date was okay. And it gave ample time for arrangements to be made­­.

  And that’s all there was to it. She scampered down the hallway, her feet chilled, and crawled back into bed. She switched off the light, settling down into the darkness, hoping for sleep to claim her.

  • • •

  Mrs. Adele Berquist laughed aloud as she modeled a large brimmed, butter-yellow hat that flopped about her shoulders. The ladies all clapped their hands and encouraged her to buy it.

  “Oh, I couldn’t!” Adele gushed. Then she turned to her daughters, Serena and Caroline, and asked, “What do you think, girls?”

  “Mother, please,” droned Caroline. “It’s simply ridiculous. So buy it!” Another peal of laughter ascended above the bubbling song of the outdoor fountain.

  April held a yearly tradition of a garden tea with a trunk show. For the last three years, Pooch Kennedy hosted the event, and invited a hat designer up from Charleston to display her latest creations. The hats were such a smashing success that everyone would’ve missed them in lieu of something different, so Pooch decided to keep the same theme again this year. The ladies sipped Darjeeling from china cups and tried on dozens of hats, which were prettily perched on golden stands upon a table dressed with a lavender linen cloth. Pooch and her husband, Bob, a real estate broker, owned a beautiful property, with dozens of pink rhododendrons hugging the spacious patio. There were half a dozen round tables set up, with the guests approaching every so often to try on another hat, and admire themselves in a twelve-foot-high Louis XIV-style mirror framed with climbing rosebushes. Servers in white uniforms discreetly refilled teapots and replenished the disappearing cucumber-and-ham on brown bread sandwiches, assorted quiche tartlets, pink frosted petit fours, fresh sliced fruit, shell-shaped orange-flavored madelines and hard-chilled white-chocolate-covered strawberries. They smiled as they passed the fountain and came onto the patio, knowing that Pooch would not tolerate the hired help bringing sour attitudes to her tea party.

  Caroline Berquist-Von Berge had already decided on her purchase. She choose a tastefully small hat that looked like a present wrapped in pale golden silk. “I can’t wait to wear this … you know what it will go with!”

  Serena said she didn’t have a clue.

  Caroline gaped in disbelief. “My new Vera Wang, you know the one for your wedding?”

  “Oh, of course. I am sorry, Caroline. That will look gorgeous with your dress. It will.”

  “I know, I can’t believe she had one that is so perfect. Which hat are you getting?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel silly in a hat, even though I love the way they look on other people.”

  “Serena you should buy something, even if it’s that little straw one I saw you try on. Actually, that looks like you. You could wear it to a polo match or a horse show or something.”

  “Yes, I do like that one.” Serena absently sipped her tea. She was thinking about the brief conversation she’d had with Billy Killian, about her coming to Texas to personally pick up the guitar he was donating to the museum. She had been all business and so was he.

  “You’re preoccupied. What’s going on with you?” said Caroline. She was taking another bite of a madeline which Serena knew she wouldn’t finish. Caroline’s dieting approach was very French; eat anything you want, just in minute amounts. She thought Caroline probably liked the idea of wasting food at social events. She was naturally thin like her mother and sister, but she liked to present herself as someone of great personal control who ate only bird-like portions.

  “Well, this afternoon I am flying to Texas to collect a guitar for the blues museum.”

  “Oh, uh-hum,” Caroline chewed the sweet Madeline slowly, savoring the second and last bite that she allowed herself. Serena saw her eyes glaze over. Caroline had little interest in any music outside serving on the ladies’ auxiliary that raised money for the Atlanta symphony. Her sister always politely expressed an interest in Serena, and tried to have meaningful conversations with her, but they seldom connected.

  “So, I was thinking about the musician,” Serena added, even though she knew Caroline wasn’t really waiting for more of an explanation.

  Caroline gingerly rubbed her fingertips together to rid herself of crumbs, and then took up her lavender napkin and began to massage away soiling bits of food from the edges of her mouth.

  “What did you think of me in the white wool cloche? For winter, of course,” Caroline said. “Maybe for Christmas.” Caroline never really wanted opinions, just compliments on her choices.

  “It looked nice, too,” Serena replied. She felt a sudden hot tickle of pain in her nose, and she concentrated on not allowing tears. Caroline and her mother had been living on a different planet her whole life, so why did it suddenly matter? Maybe she should chalk it up to wedding emotions. Everyone always says it’s a stressful time.

  “Darling, what are you getting?” Adele had traded the bright yellow hat for a more subdued navy and Kelly green. She removed the hat and smoothed her hair, looking sideways at Serena.

  “The straw hat with the black band, probably.”

  “Oh, yes.” Adele wore her auto-smile. It wasn’t that Serena had bad taste. Quite the contrary, but she didn’t share exactly the same preferences as Adele and Caroline.

  Serena left the tea, her new hat in hand, a little early. She knew the security line at the airport would take forever, and she didn’t want to miss the only flight out tonight. Having gotten to the gate uneventfully, she settled in as best she could on a hard plastic chair and opened her briefcase. She reviewed her paperwork for the acquisition of the guitar, and then moved on to some policy revisions for the physical therapy department. The joint commission was coming to review the hospital this summer. Everything in her department had to be in order, or the hospital could incur some heavy fines. Her flight to Dallas was called. She picked up her briefcase and walked up the slightly sloping tunnel and boarded the plane.

  Chapter 9

  Billy hoped he wouldn’t be a blundering idiot when he saw her. He knew that she’d look beautiful, but he would have to ignore that.

  And this was business. Although he was incredibly attracted to this woman, he respected her. He didn’t want to creep her out by getting caught looking her up and down. She was engaged, and she would be here to get a guitar. He didn’t want to disgrace either of them by coming on to her.

  He flipped on lots of lights and picked up the guitar. He put the instrument back down, then turned on some music, then turned the music down a notch, and decided to put the guitar on the desk. It looked stupid on the floor, sitting there like a trash can beside the chrome table. Satisfied that the room and instrument were presentable, he started back down the hallway towards the front of the building.

  He reached the glass double doors just in time to see her limo arrive, issuing out of the sunset. The sprinklers turned off as he opened the door, as if they were on cue. He paused on the pavement, watching her as she turned back to the car to retrieve her things. The driver had gotten out and was placing her single piece of luggage on the pavement.

  Billy couldn’t help himself, he drank her in for a few seconds while she conducted her business with the driver. She was wearing a sleeveless blouse and fluid pants in
a cool turquoise shade. She had high heel sandals on, and her toes were polished in soft coral. She was stunning. Smiling.

  He moved forward to get her luggage as the limo driver stepped back into the car.

  “This is impressive, Billy,” Serena said, studying the sandstone colored building. The sign above the doors announced Killian Studios in dark purple, and the building was situated on four acres of prime Dallas real estate.

  “It’s my brother’s dream come true, that’s for sure,” Billy replied. He was calm, now that she was actually here. She was the girl he’d talked to so effortlessly for hours in Atlanta.

  She followed him up to the door and passed inside as he set her luggage in the reception area, which was a grand, tiled affair with a fish tank that circled the whole foyer.

  “Oh, my!” she exclaimed with a laugh, pivoting around to view the aquarium.

  “I am just glad it isn’t my job to clean it,” Billy said. “Follow me, and I’ll give you the two-penny tour.”

  “I can see why artists are wild about this place,” Serena remarked as Billy showed her one of the recording suites. The black, red, and silver room boasted a large screen television, bathroom, and full kitchen with a dining room table, seating enough for twelve, and a broad glass wall that separated the recreation area from the studio. A desk was available to the guests, complete with pads of paper embossed with Killian Studios across the top, and a computer and printer. A cabinet opposite housed a sound system. A drape was drawn half-way across a set of French doors that led out onto a second-story balcony. Serena stepped over to the window and looked out. Below was a beautifully manicured garden, lake, and a picnic area, bordered by wide walking trails. The state-of-the-art equipment and generous room dimensions made recording a luxe experience. On the walls there were photos of dozens of entertainers who had been guests of Killian Studios.

  “They’ve got their own e-mail address while they’re here, all that sort of stuff. And we’ve got a little inn on the other side of the property that everybody likes to stay at. But, a lot of ’em come back for Mama’s cooking, more than the digs,” Billy said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh, yeah, I am serious. If we’ve got a band in here who are going to be holed up for a while, doing a start-to-finish project, then Mama will bring them over a couple of home-cooked meals. Texas-style BBQ, mostly. They love it.”

  “That is so nice,” Serena said.

  Billy smiled, enjoying himself. He was proud of the family business. “Yancy is really into service, ya know? He has the interns wash our clients’ cars and everything.”

  “But besides all of that, we’ve got the goods when it comes to the technical stuff. We’ve got a 65,000 square foot facility here, with all the bells and whistles.”

  “Do you have a Custom API Legacy Plus in every studio?” Serena asked. Billy was surprised by her question. He saw her checking out the console from where they were standing.

  “Yeah, and each has processors, dynamic gear, and monitors that are all top-notch. Every studio has four isolation booths, with good cueing systems, and we’ve thrown in a baby grand, too.”

  “All of that with good security, and just fifteen minutes from the airport, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Billy said with a grin.

  He led her from the studio to see the meeting rooms, and then lastly to Yancy’s office.

  “Please, have a seat. How ’bout a drink? We’ve got juice, pop, water, uh, what else … .”

  “Water, thank you. I’ve had enough juice and peanuts for a while.”

  “Yeah, isn’t that terrible? They used to serve you something to eat on commercial flights. I guess we all complained about the food, then, and now they’ve taught us it was better than nothin’.”

  Billy emptied a bottle of Evian, and was proud of himself for remembering to put a lemon slice on the edge of the glass. He’d seen Sandy, Yancy’s secretary do that. Sandy was classy like Serena.

  Billy picked up the guitar case and took out the instrument.

  “Well, it certainly looks like it has a history!” cried Serena. The guitar was scarred from heavy use. “Mind if I record your comments about it? The museum display people will strangle me if I don’t get everything they need, so I’ve learned to record.”

  “Sure, no problem. Well, first of all, this is a 1982 Strat that my brother gave me way back when. I used this guitar for about half my sets, with an old Vox Wah pedal and an Ibanez Tube Screamer.”

  Serena smiled. “Have you been using this guitar since you got it? Did it go on your last tour, and have you had it lately in the studio?”

  Billy paused. He was holding the dark red guitar lovingly, and deftly touching-out chords on the strings with his left hand.

  “It’s funny you should ask that, ma’am.”

  Serena saw emotion pooling in his eyes. She knew he was about to tell her something personal, and she wasn’t sure if she should pause the recorder app on her cell phone out of respect.

  “The last time I used it was the night I … well, I left this life for awhile. This baby here was in my hands, right then. Somebody showed me a picture of myself, all laid out before the ambulance came. Have you ever heard that story?”

  Serena looked away when his eyes lifted to hers. She replied tentatively, wondering how much she should let on that everyone knew the gory details. “I’ve heard bits and pieces. The press said that you collapsed, and then shortly afterwards you entered a treatment center. But everything else was hush-hush. That’s what I remember about it.” For some unfathomable reason, her voice filled with emotion. He was so accessible, a quality that seemed to Serena everyone else in her life was lacking.

  “Well, I can’t say that I remember it that well, ya know? It seems like a million years ago. I am sure it’s been that many miles. Sometimes the pain of it just comes up, and surprises me. That night, I guess I had a heart attack and they lost me for a few minutes. Actually, that happened to me twice, but I don’t remember much from that first time at a hotel in London, I was so high.”

  He grew quiet. Serena was about to turn off the recorder, but then he regained his composure.

  “But I am doin’ real good now, for the last five years. I eat right, take good care of myself, and I thank God I am alive every single day.” He cocked his head to one side, his face folded into a sweet grin, and Serena laughed with him. They were about the same age, but his past made him seem older.

  “I used this guitar all the time before that night, though. In the studio on my first two records, and on the road, too. After the whole business in England, I just sort of retired it. I don’t wanna say that I thought it was bad luck to play it or anything, but for some reason, well, it was kinda like I needed to let it rest with the past. You kinda get to thinkin’ about an instrument as a person, and this one partied with me too much. It sounds stupid, but you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Yance got this guitar in a second-hand shop somewhere. I had just discovered how to use a whammy bar, and I went to town on this ole’ thang. It was a different band then, too, because we hadn’t picked up Mason yet.”

  “Oh, and didn’t he join up a year later, right before you went in the studio for the second time?”

  “Wow, darlin’ you sho know your history. I am flattened.”

  She didn’t know if he meant to say that he was flattered, or that he really felt knocked-down by her knowledge of the Vipers. It didn’t matter. There was genuine feeling in everything he said, and she liked that about him.

  They talked for a while longer, effortlessly jumping from one subject to another, like old friends. Billy finally stood to return the guitar to its case.

  Serena said, “Are you due to be somewhere else, or can you have dinner with me?”

 
Billy felt easy on the subject. They got along so well that it was just like being with his sister-in-law, except for those occasional snaps of fizzy excitement that came and went. Billy knew his behavior was honorable; nothing he’d done or said couldn’t have happened right in front of her fiancee. And soon, she’d be gone.

  “Let’s go over to Slyder’s. It’s about ten minutes from here, and they’ve got a little bit of everythin’.”

  They switched off some of the lights and Billy set the security system. He handed her the guitar and picked up her luggage on the way out. He loaded his trunk, handed Serena into the car, and they drove away.

  • • •

  It was late when Serena checked into her room at the Mansion on Turtle Creek. Once owned by a Texan cotton magnate, the beautiful inn felt like staying at a wealthy relative’s home. She was also five minutes from fabulous shopping, so Serena thought she might hit a few stores before she left Dallas. She hadn’t seen much outside the city on previous visits, and so Billy had agreed to be her tour guide tomorrow.

  She went into the bathroom and started a bubble bath in the expansive honey-colored marbled tub. She checked her voicemail while the water ran. Nothing from Richard. Perhaps he’d forgotten that she was out of town and left a message at her house. She’d call him back after her bath.

  She slipped into the silky water, reclined with her head on a terry pillow and sighed deeply. The tea party and hat trunk show seemed as though it happened a very long time ago.

  Her time with Billy felt cut short, even though he hadn’t dropped her off until after midnight. She was content with him. Standing in the crowded restaurant waiting for a table, he moved in close to hear what she was saying, and she had enjoyed his attention.

  The bath was cooling, and Serena decided to get out, her thoughts still on Billy. He’d answered her question; no, there wasn’t anyone special in his life. She didn’t worry about being attracted to him. He was a perfect gentleman. It was okay that he made her feel pretty, feminine, and well taken care of. She knew that he didn’t expect anything of her, and she also knew that if she were free she would let herself fall in love with him. It wouldn’t take much to make that jump, but he would hold them safely where they were, in friendship. In fact, after she boarded the plane on Sunday, she’d probably never speak with him privately again. She might see him at a distance, during public functions like the opening at the blues museum, but it was doubtful they’d connect this way.