Serena's Song (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  "Mrs. Morrissey! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to nearly run you down." She gave her a friendly smile, the kind that said, "I'm glad you're not hurt, and wouldn't that have been funny if we'd crashed into each other. Ha ha ha."

  The elderly lady apparently missed the implied invitation to share a laugh. "Mrs. Jeffries," she said coolly, peering at Serena through half-moon-shaped lenses. The tiny rhinestones set in the frame's corners were a whimsical touch at odds with her straight-lipped expression. Serena was reminded of Boscoe's posturing.

  Scratch that thought! She hitched the wide leather strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Mrs. Morrissey?"

  "I am quite well, thank you," she said in a distinctly clipped tone. "I must say, though, Mrs. Jeffries …"

  Serena waited, then prompted, "Yes?" She began to feel uneasy when Mrs. Morrissey gave her another visual inspection, like a drill sergeant about to drum out a recruit that didn't quite measure up.

  "Well, I don't know quite what to think, actually. Suffice it to say, I just never expected such a thing of you. Good day, Mrs. Jeffries." The last, emphasized with a dignified sniff, was without doubt a dismissal.

  Bemused, Serena watched as the old lady continued her stately way down the sidewalk to her weekly wash-and-set at the beauty salon a few doors down. What in the world? Maybe she should see if Maddie had heard anything about the elderly widow's mind slipping. Her assistant usually had a good handle on the comings and goings, mental or otherwise, of the people of Elmwood.

  She was still shaking her head when she walked into Simple Pleasures. The slight breeze created as she opened and closed the front door set the tin fairies on the wind chime dancing. The delicate jingle sounded almost harsh in the total silence. Every table was filled—and every person seated at them had turned to stare at Serena. She'd never seen so many people sit so quietly, nor so still. Cripes, there was more action at a funeral! She almost wanted to look over her shoulder to see if there was something behind her that was pulling all eyes like filings to a magnet. After all, everyone couldn't be staring at her. Could they?

  "Serena!"

  At the sound of her name, she looked up to see Maddie Kowalski, her assistant, hurrying from behind the glass-fronted dessert counter. When Serena moved to meet her, Maddie grabbed her arm and began towing her towards the back of the store. Serena looked up at the younger woman in surprise.

  "Maddie? What's—"

  Her jaw dropped when her assistant actually shushed her. "I need to talk to you. And why's your cell phone turned off?"

  Serena frowned in concern. "It's off? I wonder—"

  "I'll be right back with that coffee, Harry," Maddie said brightly to a seated customer who was waving to get their attention. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she continued to urge Serena to move along with her.

  More customers called out to them, but Maddie's only response was a determinedly cheerful smile and a harder tug on Serena's arm. Then it was as if everyone was talking at once. Serena couldn't make out what they were saying, but the undercurrent of excitement was unmistakable. She looked back over her shoulder to see a few people rising to their feet, as if to follow, before Maddie dragged her into the office and shut the door—and locked it. Finally, she let go of Serena's arm and leaned back against the door.

  "Whoo boy!" The sharp exhalation fluttered Maddie's curly brown bangs. She looked a bit frazzled, completely unlike the put-together young woman who would likely elevate the pulses of Elmwood's male population if she wore nothing more than sackcloth and ashes. Men seemed to react that way to large, chocolate-brown eyes, full lips and glossy brown hair that fell midway down her back in a mane of natural corkscrew curls. Even the pocketed bib apron she wore only accentuated Maddie's curves, snugging around her waist and flaring at hips and breasts.

  Unlike the male of the species, Serena was less enchanted with Maddie's sly grin. She dropped her purse on her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, commandant. Want to tell me what the goose-step routine was all about?"

  Maddie rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"

  The bubble of Serena's contentment, already feeling the sharp point of Mrs. Morrissey's set down, burst with a near-audible pop. "Okay, what's going on? Outside, Mrs. Morrissey looked at me like I'd been caught doing a pole dance over at the Knights of Columbus Hall and just now I was, I'm pretty sure, about to be mobbed by a full house of customers."

  Maddie's eyes widened. "Oh, wow. You really don't know."

  Serena bit back a growl of frustration and forced herself to speak slowly and calmly. "No. I really don't know."

  "Hon, I think you'd better sit down."

  Fear spiked Serena's pulse. "What is it? Is it one of the kids?" She practically tripped over her chair in her race to get to the phone on her desk. Maybe there'd been an emergency, and they'd tried to get her on the cell phone, but couldn't. Oh, she'd known it was time to replace the stupid thing! Frantically, Serena flipped to the back of her address book where she listed the numbers of Katie and Jack's friends.

  "Oh no, honey, no." Maddie eased the book out of her hand. "Nothing's wrong with the kids. Everything's fine."

  Serena sagged with relief. "Thank God. Then what the hell is it?" she demanded without a glimmer of guilt for the profanity. After that scare, she felt entitled.

  "Okay, okay." Maddie slipped a rolled-up magazine Serena hadn't noticed out of one of the wide pockets of her apron. Without looking at it, she handed it to her boss.

  Serena frowned. All this had something to do with a magazine? She started to unroll it. With the state her nerves were in, she almost dropped it when the phone at her elbow rang. Before she could move, Maddie had hooked the handset off the cradle and answered it with her Professional Employee voice.

  "Good morning, Simple Pleasures." A pause. "No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Jeffries isn't in this morning. She's out of town on business. May I take a message?"

  Serena stared as Maddie lied without so much as a flicker of her eyelid. During yet another pause she could hear the cadence of the caller's voice but couldn't quite make out the words. "I'm not permitted to give out Mrs. Jeffries' cell phone number." That reminded Serena; pulling her cell out of the holster in the side of her purse, she pressed the power button. It stuttered to life and searched for service. Then the number of calls missed appeared on the tiny screen. Serena stared. The phone must be broken.

  Maddie's hard voice made it clear she was losing patience with the caller. "I'm sorry, I have no comment on that. If you give me your phone number, I will have Mrs. Jeffries call you as soon as she arrives."

  Serena's puzzlement grew as Maddie, in pretence of writing down a message, recited nine digits back to the caller—area code and number, Serena presumed—then hung up. Without a qualm, her assistant unplugged the phone from the wall.

  "Sorry," she said. "It's been like that all morning. Between the phone and everyone and their mother dropping by the café for a gawk, it's a wonder I haven't quit yet. You can thank me later," she teased. "I find monetary appreciation is quite satisfactory." Her expression sobered when she looked at the magazine, still rolled up in Serena's hand. "Aren't you going to look at it?"

  "I think I'm afraid to," Serena said weakly.

  Resolutely, she unrolled the magazine and glanced at the cover. Then stared—Oh My God!—at an all-too-familiar picture. It was a bit blurred and grainy from being blown up so much, but still surprisingly clear. The identities of the couple in it were obvious. He wore his hair shorter now—so did she, for that matter—but legions of female fans would recognize those silver-grey eyes anywhere.

  "I didn't know you knew Riff Logan."

  "What?" Serena tore her eyes away from the magazine's headline—"Riff's Beautiful Girl"—to look at Maddie. She blinked, feeling her mind sharpen with the familiar action. "Oh. Yeah. Um, it was a while ago."

  "From the looks of that picture, I'd say you knew him quite well."

  Serena felt the flush rise to her
cheeks. She didn't have to look at the picture to see what Maddie was talking about. The photo had been cropped to focus on their upper bodies and faces, but her mind's eye filled in the setting. She and Finn were sharing an Adirondack chair on the end of his grandfather's dock. There were actually two chairs, but he'd pulled her down to sit in his lap. One of his hands rested on her waist, holding her to him; the other was raised to gently brush several locks of long blond hair away from her face. The photographer had caught that moment when she'd looked up at Finn with a laugh on her lips. He looked more serious, more intense than she did, but the emotion in his eyes matched what shone in hers. Or so she'd thought.

  If her sneaky, spying little sister had waited one more moment to snap the picture … Unconsciously, she brushed her fingertips over her parted lips.

  "Serena?"

  She felt a tightness in her chest and the sting of remembered pain. "Turns out I didn't know him as well as I thought I did."

  "Oh?"

  Serena waved her hand, dismissing Maddie's unspoken invitation to spill. She really didn't want to get into it right now. "What I want to know is how this picture," her finger stabbed at it, "got on the cover of Celebrity magazine. As far as I know, the picture's in a box in my closet, with the negative."

  Maddie shrugged. "I have no idea. Frankly, I think you've got bigger problems than how the picture got out. It's already out there, end of story."

  "What kind of problems?"

  "First, like I said, the phone's been ringing off the hook all morning. Second, everyone and their mother," a head-tilt indicated the overflowing café, "wants to talk to you. Every time a reporter shows up here, I've been telling them you're out of town and won't be back until tomorrow. You should be glad you weren't home this morning, because I'm sure they've been trying to get you there, too."

  "Who's been trying to get me?"

  "You name it, they've been calling. The worst has been some pushy woman from Celebrity, for reaction to her story. But I've also been fielding calls from every major star mag on the rack in the shop, not to mention newspapers and television. You just missed Frank Switzer," she said, referring to the editor-slash-reporter-slash-photographer at their town's weekly. "He's been stopping by pretty much every fifteen minutes to see if you've come in yet. And that's just the media." Maddie laughed. "God, can you believe I actually said 'media?' I feel like I'm in some movie-of-the-week!"

  "Maddie—" Serena said warningly. She didn't find this the least bit funny. Like she wanted a picture of her and Finn—who cared if he went by Riff? He'd always be Finn to her—splashed all over the front of some magazine.

  "Okay, okay." Maddie held up her hands in mock surrender. "But you can't blame me if I find this all a little, teeny-weeny bit exciting, can you? Anyway, pretty much everyone in town's stopped in for coffee and a muffin in hopes of getting a glimpse of our own celebrity. Thank God for small favors that tourist season hasn't hit yet, or it'd be a zoo in here."

  "I had no idea so many people around town read Celebrity," Serena said, disgusted. "I could've stocked more copies and put them in the window display."

  Maddie coughed, then said carefully, "Serena, I'm also assuming you weren't listening to the radio in your car, because otherwise you would have heard it on the news."

  "On the radio?"

  Maddie's mock-solemn expression wouldn't fool a kindergartner. "And TV."

  Serena dropped her head in her hands. "I don't believe this." The chirp of her cell phone had her raising her head. She froze for a moment, thinking maybe some nosy reporter had gotten hold of her private number. No, probably not. Besides, it could be the kids calling. Shaking off her hesitation, she dug in her shoulder bag to pull out the bright-pink cell phone case. She looked at the number in the window and groaned when she recognized it. Her mother-in-law. Nothing for it. She had to answer it.

  "Hello?"

  "Serena? It's Elizabeth. I tried calling you at home and the line was busy, and there was no answer at the shop. What in the world is this I hear from Constance Maverly about you and some musician?"

  Serena bit back a sigh. Only her mother-in-law could make "musician" sound like "panhandler."

  "I'm just finding out about it myself, Elizabeth." Her husband's mother had made it clear from the beginning she was Elizabeth. Not Liz, not Beth, not, heaven forbid, Betty. As if anyone would dare, Serena thought.

  "Well, of course, I told her it was all some mistake."

  "It's not exactly a mistake," Serena began. Maddie was listening to her side of the conversation with the same queer blend of sympathy and ghoulish interest as a person passing the scene of a particularly messy car accident—oh, isn't that just awful. I hope no one was hurt. Was someone hurt? Hmm, if I slow down just a bit, maybe I can see something through the window …

  Elizabeth was silent a moment, then said, "Not a mistake? I'm afraid I don't understand, dear."

  "He was someone I … dated the summer before Michael and I met. It was long over by then," she hurried to add. "I don't even know why anyone's interested after all this time." She glared as Maddie, smirking, picked up the magazine and pointed at the headline. Serena scowled and turned her chair a little bit away, so she wouldn't have to see it. It still rankled that Finn had built his band's success on a song he'd written about her. Her mother-in-law's voice dragged her back to their conversation.

  "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, what was that?"

  "I said, what are you going to do about this? And what about the children?"

  "I haven't really thought that far. Ignore it, I guess. And as for Katie and Jack … Well, I'll tell them whatever they want to know." Up to a point, she qualified to herself. "It happened before I met their father, and I really don't see how this will upset them."

  "Hmmm. I suppose a dignified silence may be the best policy in this situation," Elizabeth said. "All right. That's what we'll do. I'll let it drop in a few important ears," meaning the ladies at her club, "that this was just a young girl's summer fling, nothing to fuss about. It'll all come to nothing in a few days if we present a united front and refuse to make this situation more than it is."

  "I'm sure that's for the best, Elizabeth. I'm sorry; I've really got to go. I just got back into town and I haven't had a chance to check in with the kids yet. I just want to talk to them."

  "Naturally, dear. Oh, and Serena? Arthur's arranged for a driver to pick us up at the house, so we'll need the children there by eight to get to the airport in time. You know how Arthur gets if his schedules aren't followed."

  Serena agreed and quickly disconnected.

  Maddie left to check on the customers—and keep the curious at bay for a while longer—while Serena dialed up the home where Jack had spent the night. As quickly as possible, she fended off the other parent's questions—yes, I dated Riff Logan, but it was a long time ago; no, I had no idea this was going to be in the magazine—and arranged for her son to stay with his friend a few hours longer. The second call was to her next-door neighbor, where Katie had spent the night. Sheighlah was a bit less nosy, but that was likely because she figured she'd get the full story from Serena over coffee at the kitchen table. Besides, the news she had to share was a lot more disturbing.

  By the time Maddie returned, Serena was pacing the tight confines of her small office, trying to decide what to do.

  "Frank Switzer's back," Maddie said, jerking a thumb at the door and café beyond. "I don't think he's buying it that you're not back yet, since I'm pretty sure someone out there called and tipped him off that you were holed up in here."

  "Wonderful." Serena's chair squeaked and rolled back a bit as she flopped down into it. "What next?"

  "What's up now?"

  "You're not going to believe this. I just got off the phone with Sheighlah next door. She says there's actually a bunch of media vans parked in front of my house and a small army of reporters milling around on my lawn. She's been afraid to let the kids outside with all those strangers around. How am I supposed to bri
ng Katie and Jack home through that?"

  Maddie smiled slyly. "Not to worry, boss. Let me just call my sister and get her to come over and cover for us. I've got a plan."

  Chapter 3

  "Hey, Alan. Isn't that her car?"

  The cameraman shifted the bulky camera around on his shoulder and peered down the street where his talent had indicated with the low-voiced question and a discreet nod of her cutely dimpled chin.

  "Brown Tempo. Yeah, looks like our girl. Riff's girl." He frowned when the leggy blonde gestured impatiently at him to lower his voice.

  "Whatever. What's she doing, just stopped there?"

  He shrugged, knowing she wasn't really asking for his opinion anyway. Sure enough, her eyes narrowed, considering, as the car slowly moved towards the bungalow they were standing in front of.

  "I don't like the looks of this. Come on, Alan." She started walking casually back towards their news van. Not casually enough. A few of the others noticed and looked around to see what had spurred them to leave the prime piece of lawn they'd staked out. Serena Jeffries' car pulled even with the house and the assembled reporters and cameramen quivered to attention like bird dogs at a duck shoot, awaiting the command to "Fetch!"

  For one long, frozen moment, everyone stared at the woman seated behind the wheel. Wisps of blond hair curled around her face and dangled over the large sunglasses that shielded her eyes. Then the Tempo's engine gunned and, with the shriek of rubber on pavement, the car sped off down the street. Alan had his camera stowed and his seatbelt snapped before the next-fastest team had even gotten their car doors open. He was already peeling away from the curb when the blond reporter in the passenger seat yelled, "Keep on her, Alan! Don't you dare lose her!"

  He grunted and concentrated on maintaining his lead at the head of the pack of news hounds who had abandoned their stakeout of Serena Jeffries' home to run her to ground.

  * * * *

  Serena waited around the corner until she heard the sound of roaring engines fade into the distance. Then she calmly started up Maddie's shiny yellow VW Beetle and drove onto her street. She dug the remote control out of her purse and hit the button when she was still several houses away. By the time she'd reached her own driveway, the garage door had risen high enough to let her zip inside; quickly, she hit the button again to lower the door. Hopefully, if any of the reporters came back, the house would look as uninhabited as it had when Maddie had led them off on the wild goose chase. Thankfully, Maddie's sister had come through with the blond wig and star-quality sunglasses. Just one advantage of knowing the owner of a beauty shop. With new appreciation, Serena vowed to try to get her hair done there more often.