The Butterfly and the Violin (9 page)

“Who is Penny?”

She stopped, startled to hear a male voice on the other end of the line.

“She’s my assistant,” she backtracked, with her gut telling her to shout,
Wrong number!
and hang up quickly. Or permanently button her lip. Either way, she dreaded confirmation of who waited on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. Who is this?”

“You’ll be disappointed to hear that it’s William.”

She closed her eyes as her chin sank to her chest. Could
things possibly get worse? He’d never help her find the painting if he thought she’d insulted him.

She began tripping over an apology at once. “Mr. Hanover, I assure you I meant nothing by that comment—I only meant that I didn’t . . . that is to say, I expected someone else to be on the line and—”

“It’s okay.” Was he laughing? It almost sounded like it. His voice was much lighter than it had been in the office. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No. I just got in.”

“Well, I don’t want to take more of your time than is necessary, so I’ll state the reason for my call. I was hoping to come to an agreement with you.”

She repositioned the phone in her hand, the words having caught her attention. “I’m listening.”

“We both want to find the original painting.”

“I agree.” Yes. If she learned more about his painting, then it might lead to what her heart longed for, to see the original painting once more. Regardless of their different motives, they both wanted the same thing.

“And we both know that my grandfather is the place to start.”

Sera had to concede that point as well, no matter how much she preferred not to admit it. “That is why I came all this way.”

“Exactly. I have a connection to the painting and you have the means to find it. We each have something the other wants.”

“So what is this agreement you’re after?”

“We work together. I hire you, and you share what you already know.”

“Keeping your enemies closer?”

“Not exactly.” He said it so lightly that Sera caught the hint of a smile evident in his voice. “I’m calling to invite you to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Is that a question?”

“No,” she said, completely taken aback. Sera drifted down to sit on the side of the bed. “I just didn’t expect—”

“That I could be civil when it comes to my family inheritance?”

“I wouldn’t describe it in that way.”

“I won’t mention the fact that I can tell you’re lying. In any case, I thought we could talk over dinner. And if you are still interested, we can be of some help to each other.”

“Dinner tonight?” She had a plane to catch in the morning, so it would have to be that night, if at all.

“Yes. If you’re free.”

“Casual or, uh, dressy?” She couldn’t believe she was agreeing to it. Dinner with the patriarch of the Hanover clan could prove intimidating. And she only had one outfit suitable for dinner—a little black sheath and strappy heels. She hoped it would do.

“It’s up to you. Just so you’re comfortable.”

What could it hurt to have dinner with the guy? Sera shrugged her shoulders. She had to eat. But with a handsome man while the California sun set in the background? A smile covered her mouth as Penny’s voice echoed in her ears. Yes, her assistant would have been gleeful over the fact that a man had asked her to dinner—even if it was platonic in nature. She’d have screamed, “
Go!
” without missing a beat.

“Miss James?”

“Yes. I’m here,” she said, jarred from her thoughts.

“So, what do you say? Pick you up at seven?”

Sera smiled in spite of herself.

“Seven it is.”

“Good. See you then,” he said, sounding more sure of himself somehow. “And, Miss James—better go ice that hand.”

William’s car pulled up to the Ivy Ridge Bed and Breakfast at precisely seven o’clock.

She looked down from her second-story window in a state of instant panic when she saw him hop from his Jeep in khaki shorts and a T-shirt.

William had instructed that she dress comfortably, but Sera had taken that to mean something appropriate for a business dinner worthy of the Hanover luxury she’d witnessed earlier in the day. Where was the suit? Wasn’t this a business meeting? She always dressed up to meet clients.

Sera glanced in the bureau mirror. Her reflection said office cocktail party, not California casual. There was nothing she could do about the black sheath now—the dress was the only thing she had that wouldn’t have her baking in a Jeep with the top down. But as for the rest, she had to do something.

With only thirty seconds to fix her appearance, Sera pulled the pins out of the elegant chignon at her nape and flipped her head over, running her hands through her long hair. She stood up straight again and let the loose waves fall down to cascade about her shoulders.

She turned to survey her appearance in the boudoir mirror.

Hmm. Not enough.

Off came the chandelier earrings and the gold cuff at her wrist. Sera discarded them and tossed them back in her suitcase. She put simple diamond studs in her ears and traded out the heels for a pair of sleek red-patent flats. One last look in the mirror and she figured her outfit was about as casual as it was going to get.

She snatched her clutch from the bed.

“Well, Mr. Hanover,” she whispered aloud, and headed for the door. “Here we go.”

Sera wasn’t prepared for where she’d be having dinner.

Not prepared at all.

William had driven his Jeep right down onto the sand and stopped not far from a group of people scattered around a huge beach bonfire. Guests were mingling over plates of food and glasses of champagne, some dining at the tables and chairs that had been set up while others lounged on blankets in the sand.

She rubbed her hands over the goose bumps that had popped out on her arms. Whether it was fear or the cool breeze kicking up off the water, it didn’t matter. He’d still brought her to a beach party and she, not knowing a soul and wearing a black cocktail dress, felt like the odd woman out.

William looked over at her for a moment but didn’t say anything. If she could have judged his thoughts, she’d guess he wondered how in the world anyone could be comfortable in a cocktail dress at a beach. No doubt he thought she looked ridiculous. Pity, then, that she answered her thought out loud.

“Well, in my defense, you never said we were going to a beach party to talk business.”

He half smiled, a curious grin that tipped the corners of his mouth, then reached in the backseat and tossed a khaki jacket in her lap.

“It might be a little big, but at least it will keep your shoulders warm,” he said, and hopped out of the Jeep. Sera looked down at her lap, sheepish, it seemed, every time she opened her mouth in his presence. She shrugged the jacket up over her arms as he came around to her side of the car.

Add gallantry to his list of unforeseen virtues
, she thought, and stepped out the door he held open for her.

She stood in front of him then, noticing how he towered over her. And in her little black dress and jacket that fell down to balloon about the hem, she looked up, probably with an all-too-blushed look to her face.

“And for the record,” he whispered, and leaned in to close the car door behind her with a
click
. He lingered there for a few
seconds, looking at the contours of her face before he spoke again. “I would have said you looked nice, had you given me the chance.”

Sera swallowed hard and tried not to get caught up in the openness of those eyes that were looking down at her. He smiled and tilted his head toward the group on the beach. They’d broken up and one faction lingered, chatting and laughing over a collection of blankets and driftwood logs, while a group of younger guys played football. The sun had bled in a cascade of blues and golds as it stretched out to the west, creating a perfect canvas backdrop.

“Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him and began plodding through the sand in his flip-flops. “Macie will want to say hi.”

Sera caught up to him and tugged at his sleeve to turn him around. He looked back at her, eyes wide.

“Wait a minute. You brought me to a family dinner?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem? You’ve already met them, so . . .” A casual shrug pinned his shoulders up with the last words. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“A dinner with family, right before a wedding.” Understanding was quick to dawn. “You brought me to your sister’s rehearsal dinner?” Sera stopped in her tracks, panic freezing her with her feet half buried in the sand. The man couldn’t be that clueless about such things. “I can’t intrude. Not like this.”

He looked to the group and then quickly turned back to her. “It’s okay, Sera. They know you’re joining me. I thought under the circumstances it would be okay.”

“Under the present circumstances, they think I’m taking their inheritance away.”

“I thought you said you weren’t.”

“I’m not,” she fired back.

“Good. There’s no problem then, right?” he said, taking her
hand in his as he tried to tug her toward the group around the fire. She wiggled it free from his grasp and stood, feet planted like a statue in the sand.

“Like it or not, I’m the enemy. I’m looking for the painting that could ruin their lives.”

“You’re not the enemy if we hire you.”

Sera shook her head. “But I thought everyone would hate me . . .”

This was worse than she’d thought. A rehearsal dinner with the people who thought she was there to empty their bank accounts? There was no way they’d accept her.

“They don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“No,” he confirmed, shaking his head.

She stiffened her chin. “But you do.”

William smiled again, but this time, the heart-stopping grin gave away the fact that he was amused by her comment rather than just trying to be polite.

“I never said that,” he sighed. “Paul may have, and I will kill him later for it, but I never did.” He paused and, with some discomfort, kicked the sand at his feet. “Look, I owe you an apology.”

He did?

“You do?”

“Yes. I realized after you left that this isn’t your fault. You may be a part of it now, but you never intended for any of this to happen. And I was . . .” He looked like he was somehow familiar with making apologies. He must have been a shoot-first-apologize-later breed of man. “I was rude, and I apologize. As your potential employer, I think I can ask you to let first impressions slide.”

She eyed him with a bit of speculation. Something inside told her to stay guarded with him, although he certainly seemed genuine.

Obviously having seen the faint smile she offered in acceptance, he nodded and reached out for her to take hold of his arm, then led her over to the crowd.

Macie was the first to spot them and, with a burst of youthful energy, hopped up off her blanket and sailed in their direction.

And with that, Sera was welcomed.

Macie took her by the hand and introduced her to her fiancé, Eric, and then to the large group of groomsmen and bridesmaids gathered round the fire. Surprisingly, Sera found she wasn’t quite the stranger she’d expected to be. The group smiled at her. And talked. And asked questions about her life in New York. What had brought her there? And how long did she plan to stay? And what was she doing with
this
guy? (The latter question coming from Paul, of course, as he pointed at his stiffening older brother.) Over a plate of crab cakes and fried clams, Sera found something she’d never have expected. This family, the one that was in danger of losing everything, was willing to receive her without question.

Sera wasn’t sure she knew how to take this kind of acceptance; she wasn’t used to it, that’s for sure. After more than an hour of cheerful conversation, a toast to the bride and groom, and some live guitar music by Paul, she felt even more relaxed. Relaxed and grateful.

A fluttering memory whispered to her heart, reminding her of the God to whom she hadn’t turned for so long. She’d breathed out a thank-you to Him when the painting had shown up in her gallery. But the realization now that Sera wanted that openness with God again—well, it surprised even her.