LITMIR.BIZ

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were face-to-face. Bad enough just talking to him. Her heartbeat had already doubled and her hand—the one clutching the phone—felt decidedly clammy.

      Of course it was hot today. The forecast was for thirty-six degrees. But their office was air-conditioned. There was no reason for her to have sweaty palms.

      ‘Have you hired yourself a car?’ she inquired. Please don’t let him say that he hasn’t. The last thing she wanted was to have to chauffeur Nicolas around.

      ‘Of course,’ he said rather drily. ‘But I learned my lesson from last time and rented an SUV.’

      ‘What do you mean, last time?’

      ‘When I came home for Mum’s funeral I hired a sports car.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ she said. All the girls in town—and the boys—had practically salivated over the yellow sporty number parked outside the church that day. Greg had made some caustic remark. Serina had done the wise thing and ignored it.

      ‘I presume the potholes on Rocky Creek Road are still as bad as ever,’ Nicolas said.

      ‘I’m afraid so,’ she replied.

      ‘Port’s changed a lot.’

      ‘Well, it has been a long time, Nicolas. Everything changes with time.’

      ‘Some things not for the better,’ he said rather brusquely. ‘Now, as soon as I shower and change, I’ll drive out to Rocky Creek and you can show me when and where I have to go tomorrow. Then I thought I’d take you to lunch.’

      ‘Lunch?’ she practically squawked before she could think better of it. A nervous glance over at Allie and Emma showed them both nodding vigorously. To refuse would have seemed not only inhospitable, but also worthy of suspicion.

      ‘Is there some reason why you can’t do that?’ he was already saying.

      ‘Well I…I’m at work at the moment,’ she hedged.

      ‘Ah, still the demands of the family business. But surely you’re the boss by now. Or did your father eventually recover from his stroke?’

      Serina swallowed. ‘No, no, Dad never recovered. He…um…passed away a couple of years back. Another stroke.’

      ‘I’m so sorry, Serina,’ he said softly. ‘I know how much you loved him. How’s your mum coping?’

      Serina blinked at this surprising sensitivity from Nicolas. So different from the last time they’d spoken. At his own mother’s wake, he’d been full of bitterness and anger. There’d not been one shred of understanding, or forgiveness. Maybe she was wrong about why he’d come back. Maybe he had grown mellow with age. Maybe he was well and truly over what she’d done to him all those years ago.

      She hoped so. She really did.

      ‘I think Mum was almost relieved when Dad died,’ she told him. ‘His quality of life was never good. He couldn’t speak, you know, or walk. Therapy didn’t work. The damage to his brain was too great.’

      ‘I didn’t realise that.’

      Well, of course not. He’d never asked. And she’d never told him. Not that she’d had much opportunity after his stormy departure for England. There’d been no contact between them after that till the night Felicity was conceived, where their brief reunion had not exactly been filled with conversation.

      Oh, why did I have to start thinking about that night?

      Serina’s head began to whirl. What had he just asked her? Something about her mother. Oh, yes…

      ‘Mum’s fine,’ she said. ‘She sold the old farm and moved into a villa in a new retirement village closer to town. She’s even started working here again at the weekends, which is very good. It gives me more time to spend with Felicity.’ She didn’t add that all this had come about after Greg’s death, when Serina hadn’t felt capable of going to work for a while.

      She had loved her husband. Maybe not with the type of grand passion she’d once felt for Nicolas, but it had been a very true affection.

      Nevertheless, she had to confess that once she got over her initial shock and grief, Serina had experienced a strange measure of relief, the same kind of relief, no doubt, that she was sure her mother had felt after her husband had died. Her mother had become very depressed over the years, looking after her husband’s needs and having little pleasure in her own life. Serina’s life with Greg hadn’t been as bad as that. But there was no denying her marriage had not been entirely happy. There’d been too much guilt in Serina’s heart. And one very big secret, which sometimes weighed heavily on her conscience.

      Now that she was widow, Serina had imagined that that secret was safe.

      Till this moment…

      What would Nicolas think, she suddenly worried, when he watched Felicity play the piano? And he would tomorrow night, when she performed in the talent quest. Thankfully, Felicity still looked nothing like her real father. But she had developed certain physical mannerisms when she played. Mannerisms that were horribly familiar. The flamboyant way she attacked the keys; the flourish with which she lifted her hands once she’d finished a piece; the way she tossed her hair…

      It was a worry, all right.

      Just when she was beginning to feel slightly more relaxed over Nicolas’s motives in coming home.

      ‘Could your mum pop in to work now, do you think?’ Nicolas asked. ‘Give you some time off?’

      ‘Oh…er…no, she can’t. She had to take Mrs Johnson down to Newcastle. To the John Hunter Hospital to see a heart specialist.’

      ‘Mrs Johnson’s not well?’

      ‘Generally speaking she’s very well. But she’s an old lady, Nicolas. When she had a bit of a turn a few weeks back, Mum decided she should have a few tests. After what happened to Dad, she’s become a strong believer in prevention being better than cure. But she won’t be back till late today.’

      ‘I see. So you’re stuck at work for the rest of the day.’

      ‘No, no, I can get away for a while,’ she said when Allie and Emma started making exasperated noises. ‘I have very good help here in the office. And business is rather slow at this time of the year. Not much building going on this close to Christmas.’

      ‘That’s great. I’ll see you in about an hour then.’

      ‘Fine. You know where to go?’

      ‘I presume the lumber yard’s in the same place it’s always been. On the left, just past the garage at the far end of the main street.’

      ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Serina could not help a wry smile pulling at her mouth. In the ten years since Nicolas’s last visit to Rocky Creek, the town—plus her family’s business—had changed almost as much as Port had. She would rather enjoy seeing the shock in Nicolas’s eyes when he saw the changes for himself.

      ‘You’ve changed, too,’ she murmured not quite so happily as she inspected herself in the powder room mirror a few minutes later.

      On the surface she was still an attractive woman. She hadn’t put on any weight over the years. And her hair hadn’t yet started turning grey. But her skin no longer held the bloom of youth. She had some lines at the corners of her eyes. And now that she looked closely, there was definitely some slackness around her jaw line.

      Serina put her palms on her cheeks and her thumbs on her neck and pulled upwards, tightening her skin. That was what successful New York women did when their faces began to sag. They had facelifts and injections.

      Serina dropped her hands away from her face with an exasperated sigh. She was being silly. And vain. All because of Nicolas.

      Normally, she didn’t wear much makeup to work, just a touch of mascara and lipstick. This morning, however, she’d surrendered

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