by Karina Bliss
Dimity opened her mouth to set her straight and, wishing he’d laid down more ground rules, Seth caught her eye. This was his family. He was home to reconcile with his father, and tighten bonds with his mother and sister. Would she understand his silent plea?
She turned to Janey with her sweetest smile. “I guess it’s just a matter of meeting the right baby!”
* * *
The Fiat’s front passenger seat held assorted rattles and a dry crust. Seth removed the crust and climbed in while Janey buckled Em into her car seat in the back, and dumped the jumbo pack of nappies and baby bag alongside her. She’d cleared them from the boot to make room for his suitcase.
“Where exactly were you planning on putting Dimity’s luggage?” he asked as his sister settled behind the wheel. His ‘girlfriend’ had turned down a ride to the ferry terminal, opting for a taxi. Zander and Elizabeth were living in semi-seclusion on Waiheke Island, thirty-five minutes by boat from downtown Auckland.
“Stacked where you’re sitting. You two in the back, Dimity on your lap, holding nappies. Simple.”
Dimity on my lap for forty-five minutes? Yeah. Real simple. But he smiled, thinking of her reaction to being stacked in the car like a Russian doll.
“Mum’s going to be disappointed she’s not staying.” Janey fastened her seatbelt and started the engine. “Is she at least coming to your welcome home party tonight?”
Seth stopped tapping out a rhythm with two rattles. “Party? Tonight?”
“Yikes, I forgot that it’s a surprise. Blame the baby brain.” Checking the side mirror, Janey pulled into traffic. “Please pretend you don’t know.”
“Lucky I slept on the plane.” He opened the window to dispel the last of his jetlag. You could almost taste the humidity that kept everything so brilliantly green—it was soft, caressing, home. So many things he’d once taken for granted had become precious through absence. The flat vowels of a Kiwi accent, driving on the left-hand side of the road, the spring birdsong. God, he’d missed it.
The life he led now was so different he might as well be living in a parallel universe. Maybe that was why he had to stop himself telling Janey she’d missed the turn-off to the apartment he’d once shared with Mel. The pain around his departure felt as sharp as if it had been yesterday. His father’s disappointment, Mel’s forced cheerfulness, his own guilt. Baggage he’d been carrying ever since.
He’d returned once to Auckland for an overnight concert as part of the Australasian tour leg. He’d sent VIP passes to his family, hoping that if his father saw him perform live he might understand that the things that mattered weren’t always tangible—masonry and steel beams—but could be ethereal like the emotions evoked through music.
Mel had been at a swim meet in Australia. Janey and Tom had a good time. His mother had canceled an hour before Seth went on stage. “Your father’s not ready,” she’d said. “I want to be there, but right now Frank needs me on his side more than you do.”
Seth understood that—he did—but it hurt. He’d come to rely on his mother’s neutrality, her determined optimism. Instead they’d shared a brief, clandestine coffee at the airport before the band flew to Wellington and pretended everything was fine. Now, with Zander’s singing future uncertain, his parents might never hear Rage live.
He forced his thoughts in a happier direction. “Can I take this welcome home party as a sign of a thaw?” His mother took a happy-clappy approach to problems, but his sister would be honest with him.
“Mum’s told Dad he has to be on his best behavior, but he’s still bitter.” Her tone was apologetic. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay with Tom and me?”
“No. I don’t want Dad thinking we’re drawing sides, when I’m home to smooth things over. Besides, Ma would be hurt.”
“And she’s made pancakes,” Janey grinned at him. “Your favorite.”
“I’ll get even,” he promised, glancing behind to check on his niece. “Em’s catching up on missed sleep.”
“Speaking of being kept awake all hours, your new girlfriend seems…interesting.”
“She is.” For Janey’s benefit, he and Dimity had exchanged a self-conscious peck on parting, one that turned into laughter when their eyes met mid-kiss. Yeah, their friendship would survive one sexual encounter. That meant a lot to him.
His sister shot him another look. “Rebound?”
“We haven’t been labeling it.”
“I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” She waited a few seconds, then grumbled, “Well, that wasn’t worth getting up at dawn for, was it Em?”
Seth grinned. “She’s asleep…and I’m not discussing my love life with you.” Which meant he had to be consistent and not pump her for information about Mel’s new guy. “How’s Tom? Still wanting five kids?”
That distracted her. “I’ve told him he’ll be lucky to get a second if this one doesn’t sleep through the night soon.” For the rest of the ride they talked about her husband, how they were resettling in New Zealand after four years abroad, and their house renovations.
Their parents still lived in the home his father had built for them as newlyweds, but the neighborhood had gentrified in tandem with their rise in fortune.
The house itself had been renovated and extended until neither it nor the ’hood looked anything like the modest suburb of Seth’s early childhood, when six-foot-high fences were only for people with dogs, and large yards hadn’t been halved by the addition of extra rooms or a pool.
His parents had exercised restraint in their upgrades. His mother Gayle would never give up her fruit trees or vegetable garden for a fourth bedroom.
She came hurrying the moment she heard the front door. “Seth! And I haven’t got my face on, yet.”
“Looks like the same face to me,” he said, holding her as tightly as he could without crushing her.
“Silly.” She smelled of pancake batter. Smiling, she pulled free to look at him. Older, he thought. She got older. People did, but still he couldn’t help wondering if he’d contributed to the new furrow between his mother’s brows. But the affection in her eyes never changed, and the sweet scent of blueberries and sugar simmering on the stove wafted from the kitchen. God, it’s good to be home.
“Where’s this new girlfriend of yours?” Gayle glanced around him to the door. “Isn’t she with you?”
“She’s in New Zealand primarily to work so she’s staying at Zander’s. But, Ma—” he got uncomfortable again “—it’s not serious.” If he had to mislead his mother, he’d stick as closely as possible to the truth.
“No, you should play the field,” she said. “Enjoy being single.” One gentle squeeze of his arm told him how sorry she was about Mel.
“Listen to you being all rock ’n’ roll.” She tried so damn hard to keep everyone happy. For the first time, he wondered what she gave up to do it. Having tried—and failed—in his own balancing act, he had a new appreciation of the skills required to keep all the balls in the air. And the cost.
“Is that my granddaughter?” Gayle plucked a sleepy Em from her daughter’s arms like a piece of ripe fruit and smothered her in kisses.
“Don’t mind me,” Janey said in a long-suffering voice.
“Oh, does little Mummy feel left out?” Seth swooped in to pepper her face with kisses while his sister, laughing, tried to beat him off. “Get him off me, Mum.”
“The prodigal returns,” his father’s dry voice said behind them.
Chapter Seven
The ferry to Waiheke Island was packed.
“It’s a public holiday,” one of the ferry staff explained as he helped Dimity stow her expensive luggage alongside beach bags, boogie boards, backpacks, and kids’ trikes. “Lots of day trippers heading to the beaches and vineyards.”
Just her luck. She roamed the outside decks and found a seat near the bow, which was surprisingly uncrowded, then realized why when the ferry hit the open harbor and the wind, still carrying a hint of winter
chill, whipped her hair into a frenzy. Nearly everyone shuffled inside, but she tied up her hair and stayed where she was, welcoming the fresh air. She needed this opportunity to regroup.
In his natural habitat, Seth was even more attractive than he was in L.A. And that was good, she thought, watching the sun’s rays bounce light off the choppy sea. It meant Mel didn’t stand a chance of resisting him.
Their parting kiss had been self-conscious, but thankfully, Janey put it down to her presence, and they’d all laughed about it. Did Seth know how few people could so effortlessly make her laugh?
She’d had to resist the urge to linger, but it was exhausting pretending their futures weren’t hanging in the balance—everyone thought Zee’s prognosis was still a couple of weeks away.
“See you at Waiheke. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Janey.”
Seth’s sister had been nice; his niece terrifying. Something about babies’ dependency, combined with their expectation of being loved, left her feeling completely helpless.
She hated being scared.
Standing, she walked to the bow where the wind was fiercest and imagined it blowing through her, collecting and flinging every anxiety, every doubt into the boat’s churning wake. But her greatest fear still circled like a shark.
What will we do if he has no voice?
She hadn’t considered a Plan B because it felt disloyal, and because she didn’t want to tempt fate—two insanely illogical reasons. Her mentor had proved time and again that willpower could move mountains. And crazy as it was, she felt very deeply that her faith, added to his will, was necessary to push them over the greatest hurdle they’d faced together. And that was enough woo-woo bullshit for one morning.
Retreating to shelter, she reviewed Plan A. Once Zee had the all clear, her first priority was relocating the lovebirds to LA so he could launch a charm offensive. Grabbing her iPad, she made a note to contact the specialist freight company who’d shipped his guitars to New Zealand. Elizabeth had already said she could write anywhere until her university lecturer job kicked in March first next year, by which time Dimity would have talked her out of returning. To her note she added: Get freight quote for Elizabeth’s furniture.
Zee’s manager Robbie had asked Dimity once if she was jealous of Elizabeth’s influence. But Elizabeth wouldn’t dream of interfering in Zander’s career any more than he would dream of interfering in hers. His respect for her work had given him the idea of asking her to write his memoir in the first place. He was also canny enough to recognize that a Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer of long-dead icons writing the memoir of a polarizing and very much alive rock idol would generate killer publicity.
The publisher, Max, had canceled Zee’s book contract after his fall from grace, no longer believing sales would justify his million-dollar advance. Unbeknownst to Zander, Elizabeth had pitched another book—In Bed With A Rock God, her account of touring with Rage on its last scandal-ridden tour and falling in love with its disgraced lead singer.
Her goal was to soften the public’s perception of him—in Dimity’s view a brilliant idea; in Zee’s an enterprise fraught with peril. They were both right.
Either way, Elizabeth’s book would be a bestseller. Once they’d won their case against the insurers, they’d reschedule the remainder of Rage’s tour with extended dates thanks to the buzz generated by Elizabeth’s memoir. Everyone a financial winner. Dimity switched off her device with a smile. Now that was a happy-ever-after she could buy into.
The speck that was Waiheke Island grew in size until its low sweep of fields and trees filled the horizon. The vessel dropped speed, and a siren blast warned small craft of her impending arrival into Matiatia Bay.
Dimity found the bathroom, combed her hair, reapplied her makeup, and prepared for victory. It didn’t take long to find two recruits to help with her luggage—a hippy and a local vintner—and she sailed down the gangplank confident that she looked every inch the glamazon PA to a famous rock star. Her cell pinged a text.
Walk to end of pier, turn right. We’re waiting under the pohutukawa trees.
Elizabeth’s bright orange hair was easy to spot. She’d twisted and clamped her unruly curls into a bulldog clip, but the sea breeze had teased strands free and they danced around her head like a welcoming flag. She was striking, too, for her air of indefinable elegance, making even an off-the-rack green dress and coral cardigan look like designer labels.
It took Dimity longer to identify the man standing beside her.
Zee normally wore clothes as flamboyant as his personality. Today, he was almost nondescript in jeans so worn and faded as to be nearly white, and a loose-fitting T-shirt that covered his stellar physique. He’d replaced his trademark Stetson with a cheap navy cap emblazoned with I’d rather be fishing and wraparound sunglasses hid his distinctive pale blue eyes.
With the wharf crawling with day trippers, a disguise made sense, yet she was shocked by how easily he slotted into this environment.
“I see you’ve changed your mind about staying longer than a week,” he called, nodding hello to her porters. “Unless those suitcases are full of new subpoenas.”
Hugging wasn’t something they did, so she was caught off guard when he pulled her into one. “Save the touchy-feelies for Elizabeth,” she said fending him off. “That goes for you, too,” she warned his fiancée, who ignored her.
Dimity suffered the hug. “I remember why I never liked you,” she complained. “You keep trying to be my friend.”
Smiling, Elizabeth released her. “It’s because you’re so bloody sweet.”
“It’s a curse.” Dimity turned and thanked her helpers. “Zee, do you have New Zealand dollars?”
He shook their hands instead. “She’s new to community,” he explained, and they stopped looking offended. She’d forgotten that Kiwis didn’t tip.
When they’d left, Dimity looked around. “Where are your local bodyguards?”
“It’s been two months since the scandal broke. Maybe in LA the paparazzi would still be lurking. Here on Waiheke, I stopped being of local interest after a week.”
“He was supplanted by concerns over wastewater management.”
“Septic tanks,” said Zander.
Dimity gave them both a withering look. “You two know it’s all those raging sex hormones that are making you idiots, right? It’s called dope-a-mine for a reason.”
“We’re parked a short walk away.” Zander picked up the two largest suitcases and looked at Dimity’s shoes. “Only you would wear heels that high to an island.”
“Think of me as an envoy from the real world. Clearly, I’ve got here in the nick of time.” She shook her head at Elizabeth. “If you still find him attractive dressed like Gilligan, it must be love.”
“It is.” Elizabeth looked at Zee, who dropped Dimity’s suitcases on the path and pulled her into his arms to kiss her.
Dimity rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long two weeks. “I hope my bedroom is soundproof.”
“Yeah, we’ve thought about that.” Zander picked up the suitcases again. “Your bedroom is in a separate building. Doc likes to make a lot of noi—”
His lover clamped her hand over his mouth.
“Some things stay private?” he mumbled through her fingers.
“Some things stay private.” Removing her hand, she straightened his cap.
Dimity shuddered. “For the love of God, keep this mushy stuff private, too. It’s turning my stomach.”
“And to think I really did miss you.” Zander led the way to the car, dropping Dimity’s suitcases beside a mud-covered Land Rover Defender. “This is ours.” In LA he drove a Dodge Viper.
“Very funny.” She kept walking, only turning when she heard the beep of an electronic key. “Seriously?”
“The dirt road to our rental property is only accessible via four-wheel drive, and the recent storm has turned every pothole into a muddy wallow.” He gestured to the mud coating halfway up the doors. �
�If you’re worried about my security, consider it camouflage.” Swinging open the rear door, he sidestepped the tire attached to it and picked up one of her bags. “You must be wiped out after your flight.”
“They were in business class, not the Gulag,” Elizabeth pointed out.
Dimity and Zee exchanged a look as he hoisted her bag into the trunk. She missed the private jet as much as he did. “Socialists have no appreciation of the needs of rock royalty,” he commented.
“Yeah, I saw some of Your Highnesses’ behavior on tour,” Elizabeth said dryly. “You know what happened to the royals in the French Revolution, right?”
“Everyone got to eat cake?” Dimity said. She had a broad education and enjoyed Elizabeth’s intellect.
Laughing, Elizabeth pushed aside groceries to make room for the second suitcase. “How’s Seth? I hope you’ve been kind to him since his ex got engaged.”
Unexpectedly, Dimity’s face went hot. “So kind I’m going to help him get Mel back. We’re pretending to date,” she added casually. “So, if you see pictures of us together you’ll know why.” Please think this is sunburn. Elizabeth started lifting the second suitcase and Zander moved to help her, but he was staring at Dimity. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his shades, but his brow was creased in a slight frown. Her guilty blush deepened.
“I don’t know if it’s wise to start tinkering in other people’s relationships,” Elizabeth said.
Desperate times. “You and Zee wouldn’t be together if I’d let you rush to his side after the—”
“You’re right, I’ll stay out of it.”
Zander took the bait. His attention shifting to his lover. “What’s this about you and me?”
Dimity had stopped Elizabeth rushing to Zander’s side after the scandal broke because he would have read it as pity, not love, and rejected her. Instead, Elizabeth had effected a reunion by playing smart. By unspoken agreement, neither woman had ever told him of Dimity’s intervention. Not even a man in love liked to think he’d been managed.
“Enough small talk.” Dimity seized control of the conversation. “Your speaking voice sounds stronger. When will you hear about your singing voice?”
