A Week at the Lake (34 page)

“Oh, God.” Mackenzie's stomach turned over. “I thought he was divorced.”

“Me too. Or at least seriously separated.”

Mackenzie had no idea what to say. Serena had been dating married men for decades. If this was the first time this had happened, she was lucky. What had she expected?

“Aren't you going to say, ‘I told you so'?”

“I'm tempted,” Mackenzie admitted. “But I'm thinking that sort of goes without saying.” She thought about her marriage, the blog she wrote about it. How could she have been so judgmental of Serena when her own life seemed just as fraudulent?

“Yeah.” Serena snorted softly. The tears had slowed but they hadn't stopped. She reached out her tongue and licked one out of the way. “I can't believe this. It was like this incredible miracle having him back. After all those years of feeling second best and unwanted, he told me he'd always wondered what being married to me would have been like.” She closed her eyes. Shook her head. “It was too good to be true.”

They sat for a few minutes staring out at the lake as the day kicked into gear.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? A cold drink? A cyanide pill?”

Serena sniffed but one corner of her mouth lifted in an attempted smile. “I'd rather the pill go to Brooks Anderson. And maybe one for his wife while we're at it.”

“Now, that's the Serena I know and love.” Or at least a small part of her. “Why waste time on inner reflection when you can direct your aggression outward?”

“Exactly,” Serena said, attempting and failing at her usual dark humor. “Only I don't think I should have this phone in my hand right now. I might do something I'd really regret.”

“Like?” Mackenzie prompted, hoping to get Serena riled enough to stop feeling so sorry for herself.

“I don't know. I can't seem to jump-start enough brain cells to give that the thought it deserves.” She sighed a Grand Canyon–sized sigh that didn't have even an ounce of Georgia Goodbody in it. “Will you stash it in my room for me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Mackenzie left Serena once again staring out over the lake, unable to come to terms with the teary silent version of her friend,
which was a far more frightening thing than an angry verbal one. She slipped Serena's phone in her pocket, took the clothes out of the dryer and folded them. As she placed Serena's clothes on her bedroom dresser, Serena's open purse went flying.

“Crap!” Crouching, she picked up two lipsticks and a pack of gum, retrieved Serena's wallet from under the dresser then reached for the papers that had spilled from a manila envelope. She'd begun tucking them back into the envelope when she noticed that they were on Emma's law firm's letterhead. Her throat tightened and her chest actually hurt as she read the legalese that named Serena Stockton as Zoe Hardgrove's legal guardian in the event of Emma Michaels's incapacitation or death.

Serena? Zoe's legal guardian? Mackenzie's fingers turned clumsy as she attempted to shove the papers back the way they'd been. Her vision blurred and the pages trembled in her hands. She sat on the bed, staring at the words in disbelief, trying to make sense of them. Serena possessed not an ounce of maternal instinct; she was not a nurturer. Her personal life was not remotely stable. Mackenzie had always assumed that if Zoe were left parentless, she would step in. That she and Adam would become Zoe's parents.

Had she made a mistake in not making her willingness clear enough? She read the paperwork again, but could find no mention of Calvin Hardgrove. Why didn't the papers say that if something happened to Emma and Zoe's father, Serena would be legal guardian?

Mackenzie stood and all but slapped the purse back on the dresser. She had always wanted a child and Emma knew it. She was born to be a mother. Furthermore, she was married and monogamous.
She
and her husband were a hundred times more qualified to raise a child than Serena ever would or could be. The injustice of it sliced through her. Any sympathy Mackenzie had felt for Serena's heartache evaporated in that moment. If bad behavior was so rewarded, why had Mackenzie
always lived by the rules, been so worried about always doing the “right” thing? She could not for the life of her understand why Emma would have chosen Serena over her and Adam without so much as a conversation. Why Emma would think Serena deserved to raise her child while Mackenzie did not.

Fighting back tears, she flung the remaining clean clothes onto Serena's bed and raced for her own room, more relieved than she'd ever admit that Adam wasn't there.

M
ackenzie's mood had not improved during the night, which had been long and sleepless. Nor had her stress level over the choices she was being forced to make lessened. Adam snored happily beside her, occasionally murmuring words that almost certainly belonged in an Oscar acceptance speech. Feeling guilty for begrudging him his happy dreams, she gritted her teeth and stared up at the ceiling until early morning light finally pierced the bedroom curtains and she heard movement downstairs.

“No really, I couldn't have done it without my . . .”

Mackenzie grasped Adam's shoulder and shook hard.

“What?” he asked groggily. “What is it?” One of his eyes opened warily.

“Time to get up.” She let go of his shoulder. “It's time for Zoe's birthday cake and presents.”

He yawned, stretched contentedly, sat up slowly. With his tousled hair and his face covered in familiar morning stubble, he was once again the man she'd woken up next to for twenty years. Would he still be this man if they ended up together in Los Angeles? Or would he wake up each morning pressed and polished with that sharp-eyed excitement he'd acquired in LA?

He pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, followed her downstairs, and added his “Happy Birthday, Zoe!” to hers as she set Zoe's present in front of her. She watched him hug Emma and drop
a kiss on Zoe's head. Before she could stop herself she was imagining what
their
daughter would have looked like. Given both their heights she would have been tall and rangy like Zoe; she might even have had Zoe's wide-set eyes, which were not dissimilar to Adam's. Only their daughter would have had blond hair and brown eyes like them.

Mackenzie pulled her bathrobe tight and moved to the coffeemaker as the familiar ache spread in her chest. If she hadn't lost their baby, their daughter would have been here right now, only a month or so older than Zoe, and maybe one of Zoe's closest friends as she had been Emma's. They might have celebrated both birthdays together.

She took her time with the coffee, her mind thick from lack of sleep, her fingers fumbling with the creamer and the sugar. The birthday cake sat on the counter, the candles ready to be lit, but she could no longer imagine eating it.

“Mornink,” Nadia said. “We waiting for Serena. You hear her upstairs?”

“No.” She'd barely glanced at the closed bedroom door other than to be glad she hadn't had to speak to her yet.

As she set Adam's coffee in front of him and settled in a vacant seat, Mackenzie noticed Emma's eyes trained on her daughter and Adam. The ache in Mackenzie's chest intensified. Emma not only had the daughter she didn't, she'd chosen to entrust that daughter to Serena—a woman who tromped through life saying whatever happened to be on her mind, and taking pretty much anything she wanted regardless of whom it belonged to. Yesterday Serena had gotten dumped on, but would she learn anything from it? Unlikely. By tomorrow she'd have her eye on someone else's husband. Mackenzie's jaw tightened in anger even as she fought back tears.

“Are you all right?” Emma asked. The concern (or was it pity?) in Emma's eyes hit Mackenzie like a slap in the face.
How could Emma be so sensitive to Mackenzie's feelings and still have chosen Serena instead of her and Adam?

Zoe stole a glance toward the stairs, undoubtedly looking for Serena. Who in addition to her other sins, apparently couldn't be bothered to show up on time.

“I'll get her.” Mackenzie stomped up the stairs and pounded on Serena's door.

When she got no answer, Mackenzie pounded harder.

“What?” Serena opened the door. Her face was haggard, her eyes red.

“Everybody's waiting for you.” Mackenzie steeled herself against Serena's ravaged face.

“Sorry. I was just wrapping Zoe's present.”

“Is there some reason you waited until now?”

Serena's head shot up at her tone. “I only fell asleep around six and then I couldn't get up when my alarm went off.”

“Zoe's waiting.” She would not be sucked into Serena's drama. She had more than enough drama of her own. “Do you need help?” she asked, though she could not hear even a note of helpfulness in her voice.

“Wouldn't want to keep you from your cake,” Serena bit out.

“Yeah, well not everybody can have their cake and eat it, too,” she snapped back, apropos of nothing except the anger and hurt bubbling inside her.

“I don't think we have time for you to deliver a frickin' lecture.”

“Then just hurry up!” Mackenzie stood in the doorway. Glowering.

Serena swore under her breath, but belted a robe over her pajamas and grabbed the present.

“Seriously?” Mackenzie looked at the package, which might have been wrapped by a five-year-old. How could a woman who couldn't even wrap a gift raise a child?

“Get over it. There's a reason stores offer gift wrapping. And I'm one of them. Not everyone aspires to domesticity.”

Mackenzie snorted. “You have an excuse or an explanation for everything, don't you?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Serena's eyes hardened. “What's gotten into you?”

Mackenzie knew this was not the time or the place, but that didn't seem to matter. “Let's try this one. How do you explain Emma naming you Zoe's legal guardian?”

“What?” Serena asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't even try to deny it. I accidentally saw the paperwork from Emma's attorneys when I brought your phone and laundry in for you.”

“Accidentally?” Serena asked. As if Mackenzie had gotten some wild hair to come in and pilfer through Serena's things.

“Yes,” Mackenzie shot back. “Why don't you tell me how that happened.”

“I have no earthly idea,” Serena said. “The paperwork arrived when Emma was in the hospital. I was as shocked as you apparently are.”

“And you don't think it's strange that it doesn't read ‘if something happened to Emma
and
Calvin'?” Mackenzie demanded.

“I promise you I barely thought about it.”

“But you didn't say anything to me,” Mackenzie insisted, hating the whiny tone in her voice.

“I didn't think there was anything to say. I was too busy praying Emma would regain consciousness and make the issue moot—which she did.” Serena shook her head. “You do remember that part, right?”

“And you don't think it's bizarre that she chose you rather than me and Adam?”

“Yes, actually I do. But I'm not the one who made that decision.”

“But it's obvious we're the better choices.”

Serena blinked. Crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you shitting me? You mean because your marriage is so solid that you haven't even seen Adam for a month? Or because you blog regularly about how great it is to
not
have children? Or maybe because you've been hiding out in Bumfuck, Indiana, and are afraid of moving to a real city where Adam finally has a real opportunity to do what he's always wanted to do?” She flung the words at Mackenzie, smiling grimly when they hit their mark.

“At least I'm not out screwing other people's husbands!” Mackenzie shot back.

Serena snorted. “I'm shocked it took you a whole day to get to the ‘I told you so.'”

“Okay, then I told you so! I told you so!” Mackenzie practically shouted. “Everybody told you so!”

They glared at each other, neither of them moving.

“I'm just going to point out that I'm not the one who made this decision,” Serena said. “Maybe you should take your little hissy fit and rain it down on Emma. Assuming you don't have a problem dumping on someone who's still adjusting to being alive!”

Both of them were vibrating with anger, which in a troubling way felt a lot better than the hurt and panic that had kept her up all night. Mackenzie was aghast at just how much she had left just waiting to spill over.

“Hel-lo?” Zoe's voice reached them from downstairs. “Are you guys ready for cake?”

Both of them blanched. Neither of them moved.

“We'll be down in a minute,” Mackenzie called down the stairs when she finally found her voice. Turning back to Serena she added, “This is Zoe's big day. It would be a real shame to ruin it.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Serena retorted. “I can control myself if you can.”

They arrived downstairs with smiles plastered on their faces. But their emotional baggage accompanied them like uninvited guests that refused to leave.

A
s far as Emma could tell, Adam and Zoe were the only two people in the room who were unaware that Serena and Mackenzie had had a go at each other. Adam still seemed to be half asleep while Zoe was completely and joyously focused on the exciting here and now of her cake, her presents, and her upcoming first date with Ryan.

After Eve's sneak attack, Emma had renewed her resolve to make Zoe's Sweet Sixteen something they could all treasure, just as she'd treasured the more intimate celebrations with Gran. Tomorrow she'd say what had to be said and attempt to put things to rights no matter the cost. But today was to be savored and enjoyed.

Emma carried the chocolate birthday cake to the table and set it in front of Zoe while the assembled “cast” sang “Happy Birthday” for the second time that week. This cake didn't scream “look at me” like the package-shaped extravaganza delivered at Le Cirque had. It was a round three-layer orgy of chocolate with
Happy Birthday, Zoe
scrawled in bright pink icing. Sixteen neon-colored candles arranged in the shape of a heart blazed brightly.

“If we're going to perform this song this often, we're going to have to spend a little time figuring out how to sing it on key,” Serena said when they'd finished singing. “Maybe we need to call a small choral practice before the cookout tonight. Or see if there are any voice coaches currently vacationing at the lake.” Her tone was wry even though her eyes were red and her face more haggard than Emma had ever seen it.

“
You
could just sing softer,” Mackenzie suggested. Her tone was not the least bit wry or teasing.

“Is that right?” Serena smiled a saccharine smile. “And who made you the new celebrity coach on
The Voice
?”

“All righty, then,” Adam said, seeming to notice the tension for the first time. For a creative person Adam Russell had an amazing tendency to ignore the obvious.

“Well, I don't care what key you sing in as long as there's cake after,” Zoe said happily. “I've never had three celebrations before. I think I'm going to like being sixteen.”

As they waited for Zoe to make her wish, Serena and Mackenzie looked everywhere but at each other. Neither of them appeared to have slept. As Zoe drew in a deep breath and began to blow out her candles, Emma made a wish of her own that somehow turned into more of a prayer.
Please God, let everyone forgive me once I finally confess. And please don't let Zoe's wish include being allowed to take the part Eve dangled in front of her
. She held her own breath until the last candle sputtered out.

“Yes!” Zoe's fist pumped in victory. The rest of them applauded.

“Girl have good lungs. And determination,” Nadia observed. “She make good weight lifter.”

“I could get behind that,” Emma said, thinking she'd much rather see Zoe lifting weights with Nadia than acting with Eve. “Presents or cake first?” she asked her daughter, instructing herself to relax. Hoping Serena and Mackenzie would do the same.

“I vote someone starts cutting the cake while I open the presents,” Zoe said.

“I like the way this girl thinks,” Serena said.

“Me too,” Mackenzie added with a toss of her head and a more conciliatory tone.

Emma shot them both a look of gratitude.

“Here, I'll cut it.” Mackenzie pulled the cake closer. The first slice went to Zoe, who took a large bite and groaned dramatically. “OMG. This is so good. I might be able to wait the three seconds it's gonna take to finish it before I open presents.”
She did exactly that while everyone else began to dig in. Emma, who'd had little appetite since they'd fled Le Cirque, downed her first bite mostly to join in. A moment later she, too, was closing her eyes and groaning with pleasure.