Sera
Patrick gripped the steering wheel with such fervour that his knuckles were turning white and he hadn’t even left the airport car park. How the hell did he get lumped with chauffeuring Ms DiMaggio? Oh yes, that’s right, it was because Kevin Graham had flagged him down and kindly offered his services to the damsel in distress. What kind of bubble-brained person turned up to a regional airport at the start of the school holidays without a booking and expected cars to be readily available? Obviously Ms DiMaggio did.
He could hardly refuse. Kevin was a nice enough bloke, but he often made a habit of poking his nose into matters that didn’t concern him. Like this one. Kevin was also a busybody. If he had politely declined or made some excuse as to why he couldn’t give the affable Ms DiMaggio a ride, the news of his refusal would’ve spread throughout Ellesmere like wildfire.
He heard her teetering alongside the car, and a moment later she slid into the passenger seat. He’d offered to help with her five Louis Vuitton suitcases and when she insisted she was capable of doing it herself, he didn’t argue.
She flicked her hair back as she reached for the seatbelt and Patrick noticed that the tips of her long hair were a lighter shade. Balayage. Sadly he knew exactly what the effect was called because Catherine had the same stupid thing done to her hair. He thought it looked ridiculous but somehow Ms DiMaggio seemed to pull it off and it seemed somewhat subtle on her, like it was natural. Probably because she pays a bomb every time she gets it done, he thought bitterly, reminded of Catherine’s expenses.
‘Nice car,’ she said.
Patrick searched for undertones of sarcasm, but couldn’t find any. She was a bit of a contradiction. But one thing that was clear was that Sera was just as thrilled to be heading to Ellesmere with him as he was to have her. They had that much in common.
‘Thanks,’ he replied politely, if not a little automatically.
‘Bit different to the mayoral vehicle from back in my day. If I recall the mayor drove a ute, not a Range Rover.’
‘Wasn’t aware you used to live in Ellesmere.’
And even if he had known she was from the town, would he have cared? Probably not.
‘I didn’t, but we do have a couple of houses there. My family used to spend summers in Ellesmere.’
Figures. Those houses were probably rented to tourists for exorbitant fees. Hell, those houses most likely paid for all that Louis Vuitton in the back.
‘Used to?’ He wasn’t sure why he asked. He wasn’t really interested.
‘Yes, every summer until…’ she faltered for a second before pressing on, ‘…until my parents divorced.’
There was something in the way she paused that hinted there was something more and he found himself softening a little. Patrick wasn’t sure why, maybe because he had gone though a divorce.
‘Must’ve been hard.’
‘Yeah, it was,’ Sera was looking out of the window, her voice suddenly quiet and distant.
‘Divorce is never easy.’ His response was off the cuff and he found that he was making conversation. God knows why, but he hadn’t been prepared for the emotion in her voice.
‘Your parents are divorced too?’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw her turn to look at him.
Shit, Patrick, what are you doing? Just get her to Ellesmere, stop making conversation and stop talking about your life.
He could have lied, played along and said yes, but he found himself doing the opposite.
‘No. I am.’
‘Kids?’
‘My son, Levi, is five.’
‘Cute age, isn’t it?’
He looked over at her in surprise. ‘Yeah, it is a cute age. Do you have kids?’
‘No,’ Sera shook her head. ‘But there’s a couple of kids on the show, I have a little girl who’s five that plays my daughter.’
Patrick wanted to point out that having some one else’s kid pretending to be your own was nowhere near the same as being a parent.
‘Does your son live in Ellesmere?’
‘No. He lives in Sydney with his mum.’ And Doctor Jeffery Schmidt, plastic surgeon extraordinaire and the man of Catherine’s dreams.
‘Is that why you were in Sydney? Visiting your son?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he on school holidays at the moment?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he coming to Ellesmere?’
So many questions, so little patience. There was no way he was going to be discussing Levi and his visit with Ms DiMaggio. ‘Yes.’ His response to her latest question was blunt and Patrick hoped it would give her a clear idea of his annoyance; that he didn’t want to talk about his personal life with her. It worked because the questions stopped and the two of them fell into a peaceful silence. He should’ve guessed it wasn’t going to last.
‘Radio?’ she asked a few minutes later, shattering the serenity.
‘Help yourself.’
She fiddled with the preset buttons, settling on a local station that played music from a range of eras and when the song ‘Summer Rain’ came on, Ms DiMaggio matched Belinda Carlisle’s sultry tone and sang along.
She sang like no one was listening and he guessed it was the air of confidence that came with living in the public eye. Begrudgingly he had to admit that she was good, more than good, and it made him wonder why she hadn’t taken a stab at singing like many actors slash models normally did. Or maybe she had and her singing career had been a flop. Given what he’d just heard he thought the last scenario was highly unlikely.
‘You have a nice voice,’ he found himself complimenting her when he should’ve been keeping quiet. Yet here he was deliberately opening up an opportunity for her to talk to him.
‘Thanks,’ she replied shyly and he noted, with some surprise, a flush of colour in her cheeks. Did he just make Sera DiMaggio blush?
‘When we were kids Juliette and I were always singing and putting on performances, we performed at the Ellesmere Summer Fair a couple of times. We had to beg Anna to join us, getting that girl to do anything fun was a chore sometimes.’
Patrick didn’t know who Anna was, and by the tone of Sera’s voice he could tell she wasn’t someone Sera was particularly fond of, but he did know Juliette. Was Sera DiMaggio heading to Ellesmere to visit Juliette Cole?
‘You know Juliette Cole?’
‘Juliette, Anna and I were friends growing up. I met them both the first summer my parents and I came to Ellesmere and we all clicked. We were like sisters and then…’
There was sadness in her voice that couldn’t be mistaken. Did divorce adversely affect children into adulthood? His parents were still happily married after more than forty years. He hadn’t known anyone who’d been through a divorce until he went through one and even though he knew there was no way in hell he could still be married to Catherine, he did wonder what effect the divorce would have on Levi in the long run. He seemed fine now, but would that change when he was older?
‘And then your parents divorced?’ He finished the sentence for her but was surprised when she turned to him, her eyes blazing, her tone going from melancholy to murderous in ten seconds flat.
‘Until Anna Kendall’s father screwed my mother and nearly bankrupted my father. That’s why my parents divorced, because my mother was sleeping with Mark Kendall, the town Lothario and the man who lost a large amount of my family’s money in a dud investment.’
‘Ouch.’ Patrick had heard whispers of what Mark Kendall had done. In a small town, not everyone forgave and forgot. It seemed that Mark Kendall’s actions had ruined people more than just financially. He’d ruined families, too.
‘I know a little about it. As I understand the Kendalls no longer live in Ellesmere.’
‘And thank the lord for that,’ Sera muttered.
Patrick stifled a laugh. It seemed Ms DiMaggio had a sense of humour.
‘Oh, we’re almost here.’
Patrick blinked and refocused on the road in front of him as the ‘Welcome to Ellesmere’ sign came into view.
She was right. How’d that happen so quickly?
You were gasbagging with her, that’s how. And not hating it either. To his astonishment he was feeling slightly disappointed the long ride was coming to an end. ‘Are you, umm, staying with Juliette?’ he asked as he turned onto the main road.
‘Yes, at Ellesmere House. Do you know where it is?’
‘You can’t live in Ellesmere and not know where Ellesmere House is. Ellesmere House and Bonnie View are our icons.’
‘I own Bonnie View.’
‘You do?’
‘It was part of the payback my dad negotiated with the Kendalls. Mark Kendall got my mother. They hightailed out of town and were never heard of again. My dad got the Kendall ancestral home. He signed it over to me for my thirtieth birthday earlier this month.’
And there it was. Just when he thought Ms DiMaggio had more depth to her, her superficial true self reappeared. She was probably here to check out the new addition to the portfolio.
‘How nice for you.’ He tried to keep his voice level and polite, but the sarcasm was hard to hide and it was not lost on her.
Ms DiMaggio narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Are you patronising me, Mayor Shepherd?’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.’ Patrick didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice now.
‘Well, here you are, Ellesmere House,’ he announced as he pulled up in front of Juliette’s place then cut Sera off before she had a chance to respond to him. ‘Say hello to Juliette for me.’ He unlocked the doors, signalling it was her cue to get out.
His actions had her widening her eyes in a mix of rage and disbelief, and as she opened her mouth, poised to launch into a tirade, something stopped her and she looked towards Ellesmere House. Patrick furrowed his brows as Sera continued to stare.
What the hell is she looking at?
‘The car in the driveway. Whose is it?’
Patrick craned his neck to see what Sera was going on about. ‘The Golf?’ he asked bewildered. ‘It’s Juliette’s. Why?’
‘When did Juliette get a car? What happened to her bike?’ she turned to ask him.
‘Not sure,’ he shrugged. ‘She’s always had a car since I’ve known her. Why is it such a big deal?’ He failed to see why she was making such a fuss about a car.
‘Because had I known Juliette had a car there was no way I’d ever—’ She stopped abruptly and Patrick felt his lips turn up slightly.
He knew exactly what she was going to say and could finish the sentence for her. He turned his body to face hers and locked her gaze, those molten eyes were unapologetic.
‘Let me guess, had you known Juliette had a car you never would’ve accepted a ride with me. The feeling is mutual, sweetheart. Hope you and Louis enjoy your holiday in Ellesmere, Ms DiMaggio.’
‘Louis?’ she asked in bewilderment.
‘Your luggage.’ He motioned to the back of the car with a tilt of his head.
Sera rolled her eyes and opened the passenger door. He could hear her teetering on those ridiculous heels of hers, pulling her Louis Vuitton out of the boot, muttering something in Italian. Most of it was not decipherable, but he did catch her saying asnio and he didn’t need Google translator to know she was calling him an ass. He winced as she slammed the boot shut then heard hurried steps as she walked back up beside the car.
‘By the way,’ she said as she stuck her head through the open passenger window, ‘I’m not here on a holiday, I’m here to stay. At least for the foreseeable future, so you’d better get used to the fact you’ll be seeing a lot of me, Mayor Shepherd.’
And with that, off she went, wheeling her precious cargo up the driveway of Ellesmere House, her heels clicking and clacking as they hit the stone paving, her hips swaying from side to side, those jeans showcasing her curves to perfection.
He was still staring at her, mesmerised, as she reached the front door and turned around to look for something, her head whipping in his direction when she realised he was still there. Even though she was at least thirty metres away he felt the frost in her glare and only when she swung back did he drive off, her last sentence replaying on loop in his head ‘…get used to the fact you’ll be seeing a lot of me, Mayor Shepherd.’
Patrick was damned if he knew how he felt about that.
* * *
Sera blew out an exasperated breath as she heard Patrick and his Range Rover drive off. She’d never been so irritated by a man ever in her life. Just when she thought she had him figured out, just when she thought he was nice enough, normal enough, he went all arrogant and patronising.
Typical politician.
Even though Juliette’s car was in the driveway it was clear she wasn’t home and she’d left a white envelope with Sera’s name on the front porch. She opened it and found a key and a note handwritten in Juliette’s neat as a pin handwriting.
Hello Seraphina!
Welcome back to Ellesmere. I’m at the shop till early evening so please, make yourself at home and we will catch up when I’m back. I’ve made up the bed in Maisey’s old room so feel free to take a nap to revive. There’s a chicken salad in the fridge for your lunch and some vanilla and almond scones on the kitchen table for your afternoon tea.
Enjoy
J xxx
Sera smiled. Juliette was always a nurturer, she was also the only person on the planet who didn’t own a mobile phone and left people handwritten notes. She turned the key and let herself into Ellesmere House and as she walked through Sera felt as if she’d stepped into a timewarp and it was 1998. The entry foyer was adorned with the handcrafted grandfather clock that’d been a wedding gift to Phillip and Maisey. She left her cases in the front foyer and wandered into the formal dining area. Juliette and Chris had been in the middle of renovating when Chris had been killed, and she knew that’d it taken Juliette a couple years to finish the work, but it looked magnificent. The formal dining room opened up to the living area and kitchen and the French doors that fed onto the Victorian veranda provided both shade and light. Juliette had replaced the original flooring with blackbutt timber and given the walls a modern look which really enhanced the openness of the living space and reminded Sera of the colour of fresh milk. The kitchen had been updated too, clean and white, in keeping with its traditional charm and a nod to country and beach living; it had a bit of a Hampton’s vibe to it. Only one item remained from the old kitchen, Maisey’s hardwood table, and it looked stunning. The house was a blend of old and new, the past meeting the present, and the whole place was filled with the faint scent of vanilla. As promised, the scones were a centrepiece on the table covered with a chrome mesh cloche. Sera could see another note tucked underneath it. This one was a list of ingredients for the scones.
I know you have this ‘thing’ against white flour, so here are ingredients for the scones.
Almond flour, eggs, cold-pressed coconut oil, vanilla paste, a tiny amount of honey and some baking powder – that’s it!
Trust me, they are yummy and good for you (they’re gluten- and grain-free and paleo too), so eat them!
J xxx
PS – Jam and fresh cream in the fridge.
Juliette knew her well, and even if they weren’t the healthy version, Sera had made up her mind long ago she was going to eat them. Juliette was a divine cook, and while Sera could hold her own, memories of summers spent cooking with Maisey at the very table where she now stood flooded in. Three young girls surveying freshly baked scones made under Maisey’s guidance. Anna’s and Sera’s looked passable, but they paled in comparison to Juliette’s. It hadn’t surprised her that Juliette had added a café to the bookshop. It made sense from both a business and personal perspective. It was a perfect way to marry Maisey’s legacy and Juliette’s wonderful talent.
Sera frowned as she returned to the present. What would happen to the café after…
Shit. She couldn’t even bring herself to think about Juliette dying. She needed to speak to Juliette tonight. When she had spoken to her the previous week, she’d sounded tired; the spark from her friend’s voice was missing and the moment Juliette had asked her to come to Ellesmere Sera had negotiated a six-month break from the show, hastily filming a scene to explain her absence.
Why was Juliette still working? She should be at home resting, which was precisely why Sera had come straight to the house and not gone to The Bookworm. Despite Juliette’s request, she wasn’t going to wait hours for her to come home She’d have her lunch, unpack and head to the shop. She might as well make herself useful and lend a hand.
At the thought of lunch, Sera realised she was starving and as per Juliette’s instructions she retrieved the chicken avocado salad from the fridge and took it out onto the adjoining veranda. Tucking her feet underneath her, Sera settled on the wicker rocking chair and watched the waves roll in as she ate her lunch. She’d forgotten what a splendid view it was from Ellesmere House, much nicer than watching television, which what she normally did when she ate at home, and on set she barely had time to sit for lunch as it was normally eaten on the go. She could get used to this. Bonnie View had an equally resplendent view, and now that, as well as the little beach house, was hers. Sera frowned as she recalled the sarcasm in the mayor’s voice when she disclosed that she owned Bonnie View. She knew what he was thinking. That she was a spoilt rich girl who’d been handed everything she’d ever wanted on a silver platter.
That would’ve been true if he was talking about sixteen-year-old Sera, the Sera that spent her summers in Ellesmere and the rest of the year attending an elite private girls school in Sydney, but definitely not the Sera who’d walked in on her mother and Mark Kendall screwing in her parents’ bed. Hard as she tried, she still couldn’t wipe the image of her mother and that man. The days that’d followed were a blur. Her father in a murderous rage, her mother blaming her for the break-up of their family.
‘You couldn’t help yourself could you? You had to run to Daddy and tell him, you little spoilt bitch.’ Her mother’s words had stung. Where was the woman that she’d adored, loved and looked up to? The woman who taught her to read and tie her shoelaces?
‘After all I’ve done for you? I gave up my life for you. I was going to be someone, my modelling career was just taking off before that man and you fucked it all up. You will never be what I could’ve been.’
That man had been her father. Apparently the romantic love story that Sera had been fed all her life about her parents falling in love at first sight at a wedding then marrying six weeks later had been a lie. They had met a wedding, but it’d been more like lust at first sight, with sixteen-year-old bridesmaid Antonia more than happy to go all the way with the eighteen-year-old groomsman she’d been paired up with. The wedding that followed was a shotgun wedding.
It’d been her mother’s idea to sign her up for modelling when she was five. Sera didn’t really love it, but she did it because she saw how happy it made her mother. Acting had been her idea too. After her mother left, her drive towards achieving fame shifted. Suddenly she wanted to prove her mother wrong. Sera supposed she could thank her mother for one thing: turning her off marriage and children. She may not have turned out a to be a Hollywood superstar or a Victoria’s Secret model, but she hadn’t gotten pregnant at sixteen and she certainly hadn’t ruined her marriage and walked out of her child’s life. After that day Sera built up an armour to keep her safe and protected from the kind of hurt her mother had inflicted on her. Mayor Shepherd could think what he liked, she didn’t care. She knew who the real Sera was and that’s all that counted.