He knew exactly why this should be when Serena came into the office a few minutes later wearing pants and jacket in a light oatmeal with nothing but a coffee silk and lace chemise peeking from beneath the wide satin lapels. The outfit made her look very tall and slim. She was stunning, Nick thought.
She tossed briefcase and handbag on to a leather couch. “Hi. I just saw Juliette, so I presume you’ve met her.”
“Yes. She flew in to tell me she knew who I was.”
To Nick’s astonishment, Serena laughed with real humor. “She eats men for lunch and spits them out for dinner.”
“I figured that.”
“Your type?”
“Could be.”
She put her head to one side and her sleek hair fell in a smooth wing. “Well, then, you’re in luck. She’s very free. Hates the thought of being tied down. Likes hot, flaming affairs that burn but leave no scars.”
“No more to be said. Absolutely my type.” But even as he spoke Nick felt his words were mere rhetoric. Serena was his type, and he couldn’t see beyond her at the moment.
•
Serena had met Juliette in the corridor. “Nick’s here,” Juliette had told her. “Be prepared.”
Juliette didn’t stay around to say what she should be prepared for, but as soon as Serena saw Nick she thought it might be that Nick looked so broad-shouldered and gorgeous in his black suit, crisp white shirt and black tie. His hair was sleek, his skin smooth and tan, his smile so white. Instead of being speechless Serena had found herself being smart, and she’d learned a few truths in the process that made all the gossip about Nick true. The Juliette Marshalls of the world were his type of women.
“Have you seen your office?” she asked.
“Yep. But I haven’t been in it yet. I’ll try the chair.”
Serena thought he seemed cautious of her as he walked into the office and sat down behind the desk. He swung around in the chair, tilted the back, and then moved forward to turn on the computer.
Serena stood at the door. “I think everything’s set up. We have a guy named Mark who works on the computers. He’s a whiz. All you’ll need is a password at the prompt. There’s a spot to register.” She glanced around at the empty bookshelves. “You’ll be able to make this place feel like yours with some personal stuff.”
“I’ll be fine, Serena.”
She was savoring the way he said her name when his phone rang in his pocket. They both jumped in surprise.
Nick took the phone out. “Nick Fraser.”
Unable to keep her eyes off him Serena watched him listen for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a problem.” He sounded annoyed, but listened some more. “I understand. Okay. Monday’s fine. Let me know.” He disconnected and looked at her. “My car is a Jaguar. It’s been in storage and it needs some parts. It won’t be ready until Monday.”
“Ah.” She thought about the party. “I guess you’ll be walking for the weekend.” She knew she sounded flippant and uncaring.
“I don’t think I can walk to Don’s place, can I?”
Trying to avoid his gaze, she ran one neatly manicured fingernail up the doorpost. What was he asking? She had no wish to be in a car with him. She didn’t want to go to the soirée with him. But she had to be truthful. “No. It’s out my way.”
“Which you told me was quite a distance.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’ll rent a car, then.”
“That sounds reasonable.” Perfect. She wouldn’t have to worry about him. She could briefly show her face at the party and leave before the do got going. Don’s parties usually ended up going on most if not all of the night. Affairs between staff members had begun at some of Don’s parties. For that very reason Serena never stayed very long.
“I’d better get moving on renting a car, then.”
Serena picked up her briefcase and purse from the sofa and took them into her office. There was half an hour before the commercial taping, so she began to fix up this office the same way she’d fixed up the other one. She hated her life disorganized. Nick was disorganizing her life.
He came in a few moments later when she was in the midst of sliding a book on to one of the shelves. Her gaze wandered from his sharp black leather shoes all the way to his handsome face. All the heat she’d ever felt for him over the past hours blasted her body, and she experienced a moment of sheer weakness and anxiety that she wasn’t going to hold up against his magnetism for an entire season. “Did you get a car?”
“Yes. I got one. I’ll go and pick it up later.” He put his hand out toward her. “Should we go down to the studio now?”
Serena removed her fingers from the now sticky book cover and pushed the book on to the shelf. “I guess we should.”
She would get used to all this: The elevator rides, the brush of his arm against hers, the aroma of his aftershave, the heat in her veins from his hand on her elbow. She would get used to working beside him, seeing their legs almost touching, his smile. She would. Oh, yes, she would. Even when they watched the unedited commercial he was far too close. The scent of his aftershave gave her visions of sub-tropical islands where there was nothing to do but make mad, passionate love.
“The show will need more besides clever cutting,” Nick said. “It needs music.”
“You’re right,” Don told him. “Any suggestions?”
“How about a local group we could give some exposure to.”
Don glanced at Serena. “What about Seth?”
“Possibly.” She thought this might be a great chance for her brother’s band, Lite, even if their music was anything but light. It would certainly give the band some solid exposure, and urge people to buy their music. “Although,” She had to be truthful. “They are pretty way out. They’re what you would call alternative with a capital A.”
“That’s my type of music. I’d like to hear them,” Nick told her.
“All right. I’ll talk to him. When do you want to run this commercial Don?”
“ASAP. Can you bring him in this evening?”
“I’ll try.”
“Phone him,” Nick urged.
Serena felt as if she were being shoved into a corner. What if Seth didn’t want to do this? He walked his own path. Drummed to his own beat. He rarely appeared at family gatherings. She very rarely saw him. He was another man who reminded her of her father. Naturally he would. He was her father’s son. “They might have a gig.”
Nick’s gaze penetrated hers. “Check anyway. We’re running out of time.”
She didn’t have much choice. She had two powerful men pushing their instructions down her throat. Of course, if she went against their ideas she might be doing her brother out of a great deal of publicity. Her reluctance to call her brother was because of her own insecurities, not because she didn’t want him to succeed.
Nick moved closer to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You look a bit dazed. I was wondering if you were feeling well. Because if you are, sweetie, phone your brother. We’re short of time, and it would save a lot of hassles if we could use him.”
Nick affected the same type of tone that he had in the pub on Wednesday evening, when she’d stopped suddenly in the doorway. It was a condescending tone, and it told her that all he wanted was to get this show on the road.
“I think I have his number.” She picked up her purse, knowing full well that his number was on her cell phone.
Feeling the two men watching her, Serena went to the other side of the studio. She opened her purse and found her phone. After placing her purse-strap over her shoulder, she punched Seth’s number. Her breath was on hold while the phone rang. Seth’s voice, sounding like her father’s, came on to the answering machine. After clearing her throat at the beep, she left a message for him to call her back on her phone. She added what the call was about to spark his interest. She then called her mother at her city hall office to find out if she kne
w Seth’s whereabouts. Her mother was closeted in meetings for the rest of the afternoon.
When Don knew the score he said, “Why don’t we split? We’ll get this thing edited and you guys can come back tonight. Hopefully with your brother, Serena.”
“I’ll do my best.” If Seth didn’t feel it was the right venue for his sound she would have to add persuasion.
Serena decided to go and visit Seth’s apartment. He might be home by the time she reached there. She’d rather talk to him in person than on the phone.
•
Nick took a cab to the rental agency to pick up his car. It was a fully loaded new Buick, a comfortable car. The car gave him a chance to drive to his father’s jewelry store.
Fraser’s Precious Gems was still open each day, even if his father didn’t have much faith in the younger man who came in to work for him. Stephen Fraser couldn’t manage even a few hours a day himself now. The store was running at a loss. Nick wanted to talk to his father about selling it. Then his parents could move from the apartment above the shop into a more modern place and live off the proceeds from the real estate. He hadn’t put the plan to his parents yet. It was something he’d decided between seeing their situation in April and now. He was always aware of how much of a stranger he was to them, as they were strangers to him.
Nick parked the car behind the store in the overgrown back lane. He opened the wooden gate, walked up a paved pathway, climbed the iron stairs at a run and knocked on the door. The action reminded him of when he was a kid, coming home from school. Only then he didn’t have to knock and he always received a scolding for running.
“Break your neck doing that,” his mother always told him.
His mother, Maria, didn’t say that this time. She wore a pair of light blue slacks and a white top, her gray hair tied in a sleek knot away from her now wrinkled features. Once her hair had been raven-black, the same color as Nick’s. She’d had a few small illnesses over the past year that had sapped her strength, but she still managed to look handsome and in command.
“Nick.” Her manner was vague, as if she needed time to remember who he was.
She raised a hand full of rings. Beautiful rings, some merely engraved bands, some bursting with different stones, all crafted for her by his father over the years. It made Nick realize how full of talent and what a wonderful craftsman his father was, and it made him sad that Stephen had never taught him his craft.
Nick took hold of his mother’s hand, wondering why she’d never offered a hand when he was a kid. Now he had to hold withered, cool fingers, and they would be his only memory of his mother. Swallowing back a lump of emotion, he said, “My car’s still being fixed so I rented one.”
His mother was the first to drop her hand. “That’s good. Are you working now?”
His mother had never thought that working in the field was actual work. One had to go somewhere to work, a store, a factory, an office. “Yes. I got my new office this morning. Dad in?”
“Yes. He’s in the front room. He went down to help in the store this morning.”
Sniffing a slightly musty lemon oil, Nick walked through the narrow hallway of the dark apartment. He wasn’t sure why the rooms always seemed dark. The paintwork was light cream and the floors a light wood. Possibly the darkness was caused by the lack of windows, or the highly polished towering pieces of antique furniture. He definitely saw his parents in something more modern and brighter, without the stair-climb.
Stephen Fraser was sitting upright on a leather armchair in the living room. Despite his most recent heart attack, Stephen was still a big man with an authoritative presence. His suits were always an immaculate dark navy blue. He wore a red kerchief in the breast pocket. Nick remembered his mother ironing the selection of different colored silk handkerchiefs.
From his position by the window Stephen could look down to the sidewalk and see who entered his store. Rarely did anyone enter the store these days. Nick had discovered the advertisements his father used to run in the local newspapers had stopped a year ago.
“Look who’s visiting,” Nick’s mother said, and went over to her husband. She touched the high back of the chair and his father smiled at his wife. Nick was surprised that he still felt completely left out. They’d been a twosome when he was born, and they’d always wanted to stay that way. Possibly one night of unbridled passion had made Maria pregnant with Nick.
Nick chose a chintz armchair and sat down opposite his father. Nick met his father’s pale blue eyes. “How are you, Dad?”
Stephen patted his chest. “No pains any more. Your mother takes care of me.”
Nick forced a smile. “She sure does.”
Maria sat down on a footstool near his father so the two of them faced him, appearing like a portrait. The left-out feeling persisted. He was an intruder here, always had been. But they needed him now. He wasn’t sure if he was using the excuse of help to hide his own deeper feelings. Did he want to show them he was worthwhile having after all, even if it was for help in their old age? Or to make them realize that they loved him after all? Maybe they did love him in their way. Who knew? In some ways he wished they’d died long ago, so he didn’t have to face this uncertainty.
“I want to take care of you as well.” Their silence made his words ring out into the room and sound as if he were begging to do something for them. Which he was. He wanted their acceptance. He wanted to know that they thought he’d done well in life. He wanted to be thought important to them. And he wanted to help them. He really did. It was more than duty it was something he needed to do.
“We appreciate that,” his father said after a while.
The pause had been long enough for Nick to make the decision. He was going to plunge right in and tell them about the changes he felt they should make to their lives to improve the quality, financially and physically. “I was thinking that maybe you should sell the store and move somewhere else. Somewhere more convenient, maybe with a bit of a flower garden to sit outside in. I can help with the money, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
They both stared at him.
“I’m not selling the store,” Stephen said. “It’s doing well today.”
Nick knew that was his father’s pride talking. “That’s not true, Dad. Last time I was here I saw the books, and it’s doing abysmally. There isn’t the foot traffic along this street there used to be, and you let the advertising slip. Besides, you lose out to big specialty stores these days. If you were in a different area it might be of some help, but trendy tourist traffic areas are expensive and, well, frankly, it’s not worth a move at your age.” He held his breath, but nothing was said about his reference to age. They knew where they were in their lives.
Maria moved forward. “Your father can’t sell the store, Nick. It’s his life.”
“I’m talking about his life, Mom. You two deserve to have a good life in the next few years, and I can help out with that. There’s a hell of a lot of money tied up in real estate here. This place is too much for both of you to cope with now. I’m not saying you have to make a decision right away, but I’m here to stay over the next few months and I want you to give some consideration to what I’ve said about moving to somewhere easier to handle. In the meantime, I’ll look into hiring someone to come in and clean and help with the meals.”
Stephen pounded the arm of the chair with his fist. “I don’t want anyone in here fiddling around with my personal things. I only eat your mother’s meals.”
Nick got up and walked to the window. The sun shone hard and bright onto the road and glinted off the windshields of the cars parked at the curb. A truck backed up to a grocery store across the road. He could hear the beep of the alarm even inside these solid brick walls. He’d spent little of his childhood here, but he remembered it enough that the place depressed him. He’d never been allowed to bring friends here, or make a mess with his toys. Not that he’d had many toys. His parents had given him books, which he always read voraciously. A
ll the solitude and all the books were likely why he’d found himself writing by the time he was a teenager. He knew if he’d had more inner peace with his home situation he might have become a writer instead of careening around the world in search of adventure.
Maria rose to put the kettle on. Nick settled back in the armchair opposite his father to partake in the tea ceremony. He left about half an hour later, feeling he hadn’t accomplished anything. But at least he’d planted the idea.
•
Seth’s apartment was in a converted warehouse area. Serena parked her car and hurried into the brick building. The stairs and the wooden hallway between the loft apartments felt like a fire trap. But she knew that inside the vast spaces were either artists’ studios or luxury living quarters and the fire regulations had been taken care of.
She’d only been to her brother’s apartment once since he’d moved in about a year ago. She knew all her reasons why. As well as Seth being extremely like her father, she didn’t really like the area, and she was also somewhat in awe of her brother, even if he was younger. He was a bit like Nick Fraser. A cool, handsome man, who didn’t have to make a move to set women’s hearts fluttering madly in their breasts. My lean, mean brother, she’d called him once, when he was sixteen and she felt he might have broken a girl’s heart. All he’d done was smile, shrug, and say, “Whatever.”
Seth answered the door, his six-foot frame covered in black jeans and a black T-shirt with his band’s name, Lite on the front in silver letters. His wavy brown hair was long and he’d grown sideburns. He looked so much like her father that Serena didn’t say a word for a moment as he raised an eyebrow over his silver-gray eyes.
“Well, Sis.” He spoke in his rather sarcastic eloquent tones that were similar to Nick Fraser’s. “I got your message, so I’m not surprised you’re here.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He opened the door and she walked in.
He’d done quite a bit to his living quarters since her last visit. The wood floors were polished. The furniture was sparse but expensive, each piece chosen individually and not because it matched anything else. One good thing her father had done for his family, he’d left them well enough off not to have to worry about finances.
Heart in the Field Page 6