by Tara Randel
“It sounds like everyone made mistakes.”
“More like cover-ups and lies.”
Her voice was steady when she said, “Sometimes people have valid reasons for keeping the truth to themselves.”
He turned on her. “That doesn’t fly with me.”
She lowered her head and he couldn’t read her expression.
“I’m sorry for dumping all this on you.” What had he been thinking to bring this up? He never talked about his father’s indiscretion with anyone, yet he’d spilled everything to Serena. Was it time? Maybe after learning she’d lost her mother, he felt he’d met a kindred spirit? Whatever the reason, he should be investigating Serena, not getting ensnarled in her spell. “I meant to... I don’t know. Just hang out together. Not bring up the past.”
Serena put away her pencils and slowly closed the sketch pad. “The truth is part of your past, Logan, whether you like it or not. We all have events in our lives we’d like to forget but can’t change. It’s what we do with the challenges that makes us the people we are today.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It can be. It’s up to you. You either forgive your father or keep the anger bottled up inside. It’s your choice, Logan.” She stood. Met his gaze. “You either make positive changes in your relationships or stay mired in the past. Only you can decide.”
Picking up her belongings, Serena started down the path back to the SUV. He watched her walk away, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.
Was it really that easy? The betrayal still burned like acid in him. But what would it cost him to stop the burning?
Maybe he’d been running from that answer long enough.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WEDNESDAY MORNING STARTED out as any normal business day. Calm. Quiet. At least until Serena’s beginner’s watercolor class arrived. Heidi had disappeared into the office to go over sales numbers and Carrie was upstairs working on her computer.
Behind the sales counter, Serena figured out her own math on a piece of paper, calculating how much she’d have to save a week to reimburse the next victim on her list. Hmm...if she cut down on extras, like coffee from Sit a Spell, or lowered her grocery bills, she might squeeze enough money into the fund. Might being the operative word. She ran the numbers again. She needed a new stream of revenue, besides investors. Even though she’d sent Mrs. M. an update of the proposal, she was thinking of abandoning that idea, anyway. But what else?
She gazed out the wide store window, her nerves soothed by the comforting scene outside. Golden was beautiful in the morning. Residents hurried about on the sidewalks, running errands or visiting with friends. The first of October was here, ushering in a noticeable trace of coolness in the air. This had always been her favorite time of the year. Once tourists descended upon Golden for Oktoberfest, the colorful leaves would be at their peak viewing pleasure. She’d decorated the store in her favorite harvest shades of orange, gold and red.
Glancing back at the page penciled in with numbers, she knew sales would pick up between now and Christmas, but the promise of an increase didn’t affect her calculations. The idea of a harvest-themed class started brewing. Once she pushed the worries aside, she hoped the creative part of her brain would work up an idea she could run with.
“C’mon,” she encouraged her muse. “Don’t fail me now.”
“Talking to yourself?” Heidi asked as she materialized beside Serena.
“Giving myself a pep talk.”
Heidi leaned over to peek at the paper. “You do know accounting is my job.”
“Of course.” Serena folded the paper in half, hiding the figures from Heidi’s shrewd, but nosy, gaze. “I was thinking about adding a new harvest-themed opportunity to raise sales. With all the tourists in town, I want something different to grab the market.”
“Another class?”
“I suppose. That does fit into my wheelhouse, but I wanted to do something more interesting to reach the tourists.”
“The annual changing-of-the-leaves tours are pretty much a staple, so that’s out. Oktoberfest is covered.”
Serena tapped her temple. “It’s right there. I need to focus.”
The door opened and two chatting women entered the store.
“Your creative mind will have to kick into gear after class.”
Ignoring the arduous weight on her shoulders, Serena straightened. Tucked away her paper.
“Full class today,” Heidi commented, her head angled as she studied Serena.
“Yes, it is. It’s always satisfying with more people.”
Heidi rested a hand on her hip. “Why do I get the feeling you’re worried about money? You do know the business is doing well, right?”
“I do, and I’m so thankful you’ve got your finger on the finances.”
“Then what’s up with you? You’ve been wound tight lately.”
Arranging her features in what she hoped was a neutral expression, Serena smiled at her friend. “Have you ever known a business owner who wasn’t worried about income? Or new ways to drive revenue?”
“No, but you’re usually pretty even-keeled.”
“Blame it on expansion.”
“The investors? Any bites yet?”
“No, but I didn’t expect overnight success.”
Heidi put her hands on Serena’s shoulders and turned her toward the women arriving for class. “Go. Enjoy your students.”
A small part of the stress she’d been hiding eased as she viewed the women mingling around the table. “I honestly love my classes.”
“And people love you. Have fun.”
Logan’s voice sounded in her head.
Fun. Right. She smoothed her navy-and-white-checkered dress and greeted the women. Soon, the supplies had been passed out and Serena explained the goal of the class.
“Just have fun. When I’m painting or drawing, that’s when I come up with ideas to personalize cards. Whether for a birthday or to say thank you, even ‘get well’ themes, I make sure to add my own special touch. This is what today is all about, your own personal creativity.” As the women began dipping their brushes into the paint, Serena walked around the table, adding suggestions here and there.
One of the women, Andrea, a mother of two daughters in grammar school, called over Serena.
“I haven’t been able to take your calligraphy class, but I’d love to in the future.”
“That’s my most popular class, so we run them quite frequently.”
“Now that the girls are in school and I’m home during the day, I’m thinking about ways to fill my time.”
Serena walked to the counter, picked up a current class schedule and returned to hand it to Andrea. “I’d love to have you.”
Andrea pulled her long blond braid over her shoulder and sat back in her chair. “I have to say, I was inspired by your story. I was on your website to find class times, but then spotted your bio. Makes me think that maybe I could start a business.”
“What kind?”
“I like plants and flowers. Maybe I could start a landscape design service.”
Serena loved to encourage women who were considering starting a project of their own. “Sounds like you’ve done some serious thinking.”
Andrea grinned. “I’d love to make my own hours and be home when the girls finish with school for the day.”
“Then write down your ideas,” she suggested. “I’m not going to lie—it’s a lot of work getting a business up and running, but once you do, it’s very fulfilling. My friend Carrie was instrumental in helping me start Blue Ridge Cottage. She’s in town for a while. Maybe you can get together and discuss your vision.”
Surprise, then pleasure, crossed Andrea’s face. “You’d introduce me to your friend?”
“Sure. Why not? Women need to empower each other.
”
“Hear! Hear!” said an older woman at the opposite end of the table. “I so wish I was starting out again. Young ladies today are not afraid to go after their dreams and I admire that.”
Serena grinned at Andrea, then moved to help the other women at the table.
“Speaking of your website,” said another student, “I love your picture. Whoever took the photo captured you perfectly.”
Serena stopped in her tracks. “Picture? No, I think you must be mistaken. I don’t have a picture on my website.”
The woman dabbed her brush on the canvas. “Oh, no, Serena. It was most definitely you.”
A burning sensation closely resembling fear twisted in her stomach. Serena had refused to post a picture of herself, even though Carrie had tried numerous times to convince her otherwise. Yes, she was overly guarded, but hadn’t that caution kept her secrets safe so far? No, she’d been firm with Carrie. This had to be a mistake.
The class time couldn’t pass quickly enough. Keeping a smile on her face, she tried not to panic. Once the ladies left, with Serena promising Andrea she’d set up an appointment with Carrie, she ran to the counter to open her laptop. After a few keystrokes she pulled up her website. Went light-headed when she saw a picture of herself on the home page.
Carrie must have taken the shot. Serena sat on a bench in Gold Dust Park. Her head was down, and her face was obscured by her long dark hair falling around her shoulders as she sketched on a large pad in her lap. If you looked hard enough, you could sort of make out Serena’s features, but that wasn’t the point. It might not be a full-on image, but Serena had been firm when she’d told Carrie never to put any photos of her online.
She grabbed her cell phone and sent a quick text asking Carrie to come downstairs.
Serena paced as she waited. Tried to slow her rapidly building panic. Ignored the sense of betrayal simmering in her chest.
“Hey, I got your text,” Carrie said as she joined Serena in the store a few minutes later. “What’s up?”
Serena swung around to confront her. Anger fueled by fear slithered out of her. “You put my picture on the Blue Ridge Cottage website after I told you not to.”
Carrie frowned. “You told me that when you first started out. I didn’t think you were still stuck on remaining faceless.”
She swallowed around the knot in her throat. “Carrie, I haven’t changed my mind. Take it down.”
“I don’t get why you’re so camera-shy. It’s important for your customers to put a face with a name.” Noticing the open laptop, Carrie moved the screen so it faced them. “Your visibility is growing. People want to connect to you and your story. You make it harder by refusing to add a picture.”
“I get that you’re the marketing guru. The expert.” Her voice rose to being on the edge of hysteria. “But I want the image gone. Today.”
Heidi stuck her head into the store. “Hey, what’s up with you two? I can hear you clear in the back.”
Eyes narrowed, Carrie said, “Your boss is being stubborn and not considering the big picture.”
Reaching deep inside to calm herself, without much success, Serena stood her ground. “We’ve done fine without my customers knowing what I look like. It’s Aunt Mary’s story that draws them in.”
“At first.” Carrie waved a hand, indicating the store. “But then they look at your beautiful artwork and want to know more about the artist behind the creations.”
“There is enough about me there now. We don’t need more,” she barked at her friend.
Carrie blew out a breath and glanced at Heidi. “She’s being unreasonable.”
Heidi eyed them with uncertainty. “Serena, I have to agree with Carrie. People feel more connected if they recognize your face.”
“And what if I don’t want my face out there for the world to see?” she shouted, appalled at her total lack of control.
A troubled silence blanketed the room. Serena felt her cheeks heat. Her friends looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Well, she had for a moment, hadn’t she?
Taking a breath, she said, “Carrie, please remove the picture. I own this business. I don’t have to give you a reason why. I want it done.”
“I’ll do it right away,” Carrie answered in a subdued tone.
Did she sound as horrible as she thought? Gathering her jumbled emotions, Serena said, “Thank you.”
The tension lingered. Trying to recover a little dignity, Serena walked past the women to pick up her sketchbook and bag of colored pencils. “I’m leaving for a while.” She looked at Heidi. “Please cover the store.”
“Sure. I, ah...”
Stopping Heidi before she could say more, Serena held up a hand. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Chin high, she exited the store, fighting the burning sensation behind her eyes. She’d yelled at Carrie. Carrie, of all people. The one person who’d been in her corner since she’d come up with the idea to start Blue Ridge Cottage. What was wrong with her?
Your past is catching up to you.
No. It couldn’t be. She’d been so careful. No one knew she was the person repaying her father’s victims. No one knew Aunt Mary was the figment of her imagination who had become the story behind the business. Her father had opened a door to all their secrets and seemed unconcerned about it. Everything she’d worked so hard to contain was unraveling. Suddenly it was all too much to bear alone.
But she was alone. She was in too far to confide in her friends now. They’d be hurt that she hadn’t told them the truth from the beginning. Then there was her reputation here in Golden. What would Mrs. M. think if the truth came out? She’d grown so attached to the woman, it would break her heart if Mrs. M. looked at her with disillusionment in her eyes. And if she found out that Serena was the daughter of a con man, Logan would find out, too.
She never should have told Mrs. M. about her business proposal. Never should have chanced bringing investors into her life. She’d have to shut the door on that idea.
She blindly hurried along the sidewalk, unsure of her destination. Her labored breathing had her wondering if she was having a panic attack. Maybe going deep into the woods would calm her down. She’d find a place to sit and draw until her mind settled. Possibly she could find some peace. Discover a way to get her life back on track.
“Serena. Wait up.”
She glanced up. Logan. Not now.
She already suspected that he was way too curious about her. She’d tried to justify not worrying about him. Hoped his interest came from her friendship with his grandmother. They had an attraction she couldn’t deny, and he’d even kissed her in a way Serena had only imagined in her romantic daydreams. He was determined—that much she knew. And if he was looking into her past? She shuddered at the possibility.
She stopped. Closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see him, not now, when she was tied up in knots. Peeking through parted lids, she saw his purposeful stride as he came closer and realized she didn’t have a choice.
* * *
LOGAN WATCHED SERENA’S face go from troubled to resigned. Seemed she wasn’t thrilled to see him.
“Where are you off to?”
She nodded in a vague direction over her shoulder. “To find a place to sketch.”
“Business slow?”
“No. I just need...to sketch.”
“Mind some company?”
She averted his gaze. “Actually I do. I work better alone.”
What was up with her? Yeah, she could be prickly at times, but what he liked best was her usually sunny personality. Today she looked like she was stranded under a bank of storm clouds and he wanted to make the shadows in her eyes go away.
“How about a pastry before you get to work? Frieda always puts a few apple fritters aside for me.”
“Logan, I’m not hungry right now.”
&
nbsp; “All you have to do is walk over to the bakery. Heck, walk by the bakery and you’ll change your mind once you smell all the sugary treats inside.”
When she finally met his gaze, he was surprised by her despair. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
He rocked back on his heels. “If you want me to.”
After a pause, she said, “Okay, but I only have time for a quick visit.”
If he wasn’t a pretty self-confident guy, he might have changed his mind due to her less-than-enthusiastic response to his invitation.
He followed her as she marched down the sidewalk and had to hide a smile when she slowed near the bakery entrance. She lifted her head and he imagined she was inhaling the sweetened air, just like him.
“I only have a few minutes,” she warned as they went inside.
“That’s all I need.” He wanted to bring a smile to her lips and had to ask himself why. He wasn’t the type of guy who needed everyone around him to be happy, but for some reason the idea of Serena unhappy bothered him. Then he started speculating on what had put her in a bad mood and his suspicious mind wanted answers. Now he understood why women didn’t want to date him when he peppered them with questions. Occupational hazard. Or in this case, getting to the truth.
Minutes later they were back outside, Logan holding a bag with their pastries wrapped in waxed paper. After a quick detour to Sit a Spell for coffee, they took a seat at a shaded wrought-iron bistro table on the sidewalk nestled under a tree. Long limbs spread overhead. Beams of sun sneaked through the gaps in the gently waving leaves, allowing flashes of light to dance on the tabletop. A few cars passed by. Voices drifted from the coffee shop.
