"The same?"

"Could you tally up the amount of money I have to work with? My latest statements haven't arrived yet and I have no idea what the dividends will show." When Andre simply stared silently at her she grew worried. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem." He shrugged too quickly. "When do you want all this?"

"Next week? Same time? Same place?" She tried to make it sound casual in a vain attempt to stem a vague feeling of unease. Mercifully Andre rose to the occasion, doing one of his characteristic flip-flops, growing instantly charming again. But Serena gave his grave doubts more thought later that afternoon. Much as she tried, she could find no justification for them.

Indeed, she was more determined than ever to go ahead with her plans. The irony of it was that her involvement with Tom, totally aside from the approval he'd given, pushed her on. She had no idea where the relationship was headed, she knew only that the love she felt for him grew by the day. There was still so much to face and work out, though. In that respect, Sweet Serenity was her designated diversion. The planning of the new shop would take hours of her time, hours that, should Tom suddenly vanish from her life, would be her key to survival. Sweet Serenity, both parent and child-to-be, was her insurance policy for sanity. Through it she had found identity once; if necessary she would cling to it for her life.

"Someone's in love!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Serena." Cynthia tossed her fire-bright curls back from her cheeks and laughed gaily. "If you could only see your face. You look like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar."

Serena's blush approached crimson. "Not quite," she hedged.

"Not quite what? In love? Or caught at it?"

"Not quite either."

"Serena," her friend began as though scolding a child, "you're wearing the evidence, for Pete's sake. It's written all over your face, and you haven't stopped looking around for him since you got here."

"That's not true, Cynthia! He won't be here for at least another hour."

"Ah-hah! So you are meeting him here?"

"He's picking me up afterward."

"He's not playing himself?"

"Not tonight. He's got a meeting to attend." Serena bent to lace her sneakers as she recalled Tom's preoccupation when he'd picked her up at work. They had eaten at her apartment before he had dropped her at the racquetball club. His warmth toward her had encouraged her. As always, the doubts that burgeoned with his absence were quickly chased away. But he had been distracted; she had sensed something afoot. When she questioned him about it he stilled her with his kiss and the powerful intoxicant of his embrace. She happily pushed aside all worry.

"You are in love with him, aren't you?" This time, Cynthia was more serious.

Wrenched abruptly from thoughts of Tom, Serena jerked her head up at her partner, then looked down again to fiddle idly with her laces. She made light of it. "Who knows? Love can blow this way and that. Only time will tell."

Later that evening she feared that time was her enemy. Tom had emerged from his meeting in a shroud of tension that enveloped Serena the instant she set foot in his car. Their conversation during the short drive to her apartment went no deeper than small talk. He was deeply bothered by something, and much as Serena tried to get at its source she could make no headway.

With the panic of a woman in love she concluded that Tom had greater problems with their relationship than she had anticipated. Perhaps there was something more than his failed marriage that tormented him; perhaps there was still a side of him she didn't know. Yet for the first time in her apartment he made love to her and her fears fell victim to the fierceness of his passion. In his arms she knew him well, understanding him and satisfying him with the same fervor he showed her. For those few thoughtless moments they were in harmony. Soon after it was shattered.

8.

"I've done some thinking about your plans for Sweet Serenity," Tom began as they lay in bed together, her head nestled on his shoulder. "Maybe you ought to wait before opening a second store."

"What?" Serena bobbed up in surprise, but he pressed her back with a determined hand and held her there.

"The branch store. Why don't you wait a few months?"

"What difference would a few months make?"

She felt his shrug beneath her head. "Rents may have leveled off by then, money may be that much freer."

"Do you really believe that, Tom? Do you really think a few months will reflect a turn in the economy?" She offered soft skepticism.

"Never can tell." His nonchalance was more than she could bear, particularly given her doubts of earlier that evening.

"I don't understand," she argued in a hurt whisper.

"You were in favor of the idea when we discussed it the other day. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?"

"I haven't changed my mind about expanding per se. I'm simply suggesting that you may want to wait before taking such a large step. It may be premature."

"I can't stand it!" she exploded, overpowering him and sitting up. "Now you sound like Andre! What is it with you two?" Her gaze narrowed. "Who was your meeting with tonight, anyway? You were pretty vague about it before."

Tom stroked her arm slowly. "It was a matter relating to the paper, Serena. I can assure you, I've had no meetings with Andre. The incident at his party was enough to persuade me to keep him at arm's length. I only wish you would."

"He controls my money, Tom. I can't very well avoid him. And besides, I still don't see what you have against him."

Tom said nothing, simply reached up to twist an auburn wave through his fingers. His eyes-those fire-laden eyes-held an enigmatic blend of gentleness and anger. Serena was totally confused.

"This is absurd!" She finally cried out her frustration. "The two of you seesaw and I'm stuck in the middle sliding first one way, then the other."

"It's not that way. At least, I had hoped that I had the greater weight of emotion on my end."

With a sigh of helplessness at the beseeching look in his eyes she let her arms rest on his chest, then slowly settled down on its solid expanse. She breathed in the musky scent of his skin. "Oh, Tom, you know you do. It's just that, well, Sweet Serenity is my passport to security. It means the world to me. Expansion is something I've been considering for a while now. Perhaps I'm worried that if I put off the move I may get cold feet myself."

He held her quietly, ingesting her words, his arm circling her ivory-sheened back. "You're a very stubborn lady," he admitted at last, "but I suppose it's one of the things I like about you. You're committed to this, aren't you?" She nodded, rubbing her cheek against the dark mat of hair just below his throat. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Hmm?"

"If Phillips gives you trouble, let me know?"

Startled, she looked up again, only to be beset with perplexity when her memory dredged up a similar warning that Tom had given her last weekend. It was as though he actually expected Andre to present a problem, and that was the last thing she anticipated. Wary, and feeling as if she had missed a vital clue, she sought to reassure Tom once more.

"I'm sure there won't be any trouble, Tom. Andre was hesitant at first, but that was only natural. He expressed the same doubts you just did. But I seem to have convinced him. We're meeting next week to discuss specifics. He'll have the figures with him, plus papers for me to sign. I have to say that he was a gracious loser." She paused and studied Tom's frown for a minute longer before a saucy smile toyed with her lips. Drawing her leg up along the man-roughened length of his she lowered her voice to a whisper. "What about you?"

To her delight the frown evaporated into the late May night as Tom's lips found hers in a final impassioned seal of affection before he reluctantly hauled himself from the bed and dressed. It was amid promises of a weekend together that Serena mustered the strength to let him go, her spirits high in anticipation.

They dined in elegance Friday night following a performance at the Guthrie Theater. For Serena, however, the highlight of the evening was the return to Tom's cottage and a night of bliss spent in his arms. When she impishly told him so he grinned and kissed her before urging her to sleep.

He drove her to Sweet Serenity on Saturday morning, then brought in roast beef sandwiches for three at noon, automatically including a noticeably starstruck Monica in the trio, putting her gently at ease. For the first time since opening the shop Serena would have liked to have taken the whole day off to be with Tom. But his acceptance of her obligation and his very evident admiration of her dedication compensated for his absence, temporarily appeasing the addiction she now freely admitted to herself. When he reappeared at six to pick her up she felt the familiar surge of excitement.

Even the brief stop at her apartment for a change of clothes was more than Serena would have wished. She breathed a sigh of relief when the sturdy oak door of the small brick cottage closed behind them, excluding the world and its worries from their utter intimacy. Here she felt free of all care. Here she blossomed as a woman in Tom's hands, letting the love she felt be contained only by fear of confession. For though his behavior and the very way he looked at her bore all the warmth she might have hoped, he spoke no words of love.

In her way, despite the strength of her own emotions and the love she felt for Tom, Serena was grateful. There were still those fleeting gremlins of doubt flickering through her mind at idle, solitary moments. Until the last of these was banished she was no more ready for commitment than was he.

The first part of the week flew by with hardly a moment's breather. Not only was there the routine functioning of Sweet Serenity to oversee, but Serena's sights were set on the future. Leaving Nancy to man the store for several hours each day, she made a whirlwind tour of available rental spots in the communities surrounding Minneapolis, communities she had previously targeted for potential branch stores. In the end there were three viable possibilities, any one of which would have pleased her.

Armed with a folder of facts, figures, and statistics, she met Andre as arranged. It was with mixed emotions that she submitted to his warm hug in the foyer of the restaurant, then let him rest his arm on her shoulder as they walked to their table. Much as the open, and shallow, display of affection bothered her, she felt she was in no position to offend Andre by making an issue of it. She was grateful enough for his good mood to overlook the indiscretion.

Over the course of the meal they discussed the details of Serena's plans. She produced sheet after sheet of projected expenses, relying on Andre's friendship more than his occupation, under which such duties did not traditionally fall, to guide her. He listened to her presentation with a positive concentration that encouraged her so much that when, at last, he withdrew a sheaf of papers from his own pocket she readily signed her name to the consent form allowing Andre to retrieve her money on her behalf without stopping to read carefully through it. When he promptly pocketed the form and leaned forward to excuse himself from the table for a moment she sat back with a decidedly satisfied air.

As the seconds ticked away, however, her satisfaction thinned. It had been too easy; Andre had been too agreeable. Considering the force of his opposition at the start of their discussion last week, his unquestioning cooperation seemed odd. Or, she asked herself in an attempt to be fair, had Tom merely planted the seeds of doubt in her mind? Perhaps all was well. But where was Andre?

Rather than abating, her apprehension grew at the sight of him walking confidently toward her. For in contrast to the benign smiles he had bestowed on her earlier, his expression now held the same hardness she had seen last week. Then he had persisted in fighting her intent; what now? It had all been decided; she had given him her instructions to see about withdrawing her capital. Then it suddenly occurred to her that Andre had not yet shown her the full figures on her accounts. As he sat down she stiffened slightly.

She picked up where they had left off before Andre had smoothly pocketed the release form. She struggled to keep her voice nonchalant. "Is everything all right?"

There was an insidious tilt to his smile. "Everything is fine," he reported, downing the last of his wine and facing her boldly. She felt instinctively that they were talking about totally different things.

"When will I have access to my money?" she asked, barely concealing her timidity behind a skillfully smooth facade.

"It will be a while."

"A while? Is that days ... weeks?"

"It's hard to tell, Serena. I'll let you know as soon as I learn anything."

"Andre, I don't understand. I thought that I would be able to get my funds within days, no more than a week."

"Times are tight."

"It's my money." She frowned, tempering her growing irritation. "By the way, have you got some figures for me? I haven't seen the tally you were going to make. I'm not even sure exactly how much we're talking about."

He didn't blink. "I'm still working on putting the figures together. I'll get back to you on it." A smile that was intended to pacify her missed its mark entirely.

"You're putting me off, Andre," she accused softly.

"Of course not, Serena. Everything will be taken care of in due time." He patted her hand as though she were a pet, angering her all the more. "Just be patient."

"But I'm ready to go. There doesn't seem to be a point in delaying, unless you have some other reason...?"

"Patience."

Taking a different approach, Serena withdrew her hand from the tablecloth, tucked it tensely inside the other on her lap and took a deep breath. "Andre, what's going on? Something is very strange here. You remind me of the salesperson who's full of smiles when a sale is made, and all but cursing you when you bring the item back because it doesn't fit properly. We're friends. I don't quite understand your attitude."

Neither did she understand the glitter of power that his eyes held, nor his seeming indifference to her concern. "Don't push it, Serena," was all he said through a brightly pasted smile.

"Andre..."

"Don't push!" He grew abruptly sober, as though she had, with her gentle prodding, offended his pride and cornered him.

Serena was totally confused. What puzzled her most was the sense of inevitability in what was happening. "Andre, you do have the money I gave you to invest, don't you?" She spoke on impulse as the terror of suspicion entered her mind. Was it possible that something had happened to her nest egg, and that he was afraid to tell her for fear of upsetting her? But she was upset enough as it was. Now she wanted the truth. She was stunned into silence by what Andre had to say.

"I know about you and Reynolds, Serena."

"Wh-what?"

The venal narrowing of his gaze sent a shudder of fear through her. "I went way back to the time you lived in California. You left with quite a bang, didn't you?"

Serena blanched, staring at him with every bit of the disbelief she felt. Forgotten was the lovely atmosphere, the hum of chatter all about them, the many pleasant times they'd shared as friends. She could only focus on his words and their vicious implication.

"What are you talking about, Andre?"

"Your father." He stared hard. "I know about your past."

She held her breath for the half-minute it took her to recover from the first of the shock. "Yes, well ... what does that mean? What difference does it make?" Hadn't Tom told her that she was the only one to whom that long-ago trauma was meaningful? Evidently he was wrong.

The gleam in Andre's eye spoke of the pleasure he received from her vulnerability. "I knew there was something odd in the way you looked at him that day." His voice was low, his mind raging in its own direction. "Reynolds was the one who exposed your father. The newspaper files had it all, right there in black and white."

She could only swallow hard and repeat her earlier question. "But what does that mean? I know what's there. But I don't see that it has any relevance to what you and I are talking about. All that happened sixteen years ago. My father paid for what he did. It has nothing to do with my plans for Sweet Serenity."

"I hope it won't have to."

The hollow in her stomach gaped with the lethal calm of his voice. "Andre!" she cried, exasperated and confused. At his warning glance around, a reminder of the public nature of their surroundings, she dropped her voice to a more cautious pitch. "I can't believe this! I must have missed something somewhere along the line. Why don't you explain it to me?" Her appeal was to the friendship they had shared once, but it fell on ears to which that friendship apparently meant nothing.

He sat forward, smiling for appearance's sake. His tone held neither humor nor sympathy. "All right, Serena, though I had thought you were quicker. Let me spell it out. I can't give you your money now and I won't be pressured. If need be I can easily spread word about your family's history. That might make it more difficult for you to find a landlord willing to rent to you."

Horrified, she could only take one thing at a time. "Wait a minute. Let's backtrack here. You say you can't give me my money now? Why not? I thought that every investment you made for me had a clause concerning withdrawals-"

"They may have."

"Then, why...?" With understanding came even greater dismay. "It's gone ... you've done something with it ... how could you?"

"I've done things I thought would work out. I just need more time. You'll have your money, Serena."

"When? This isn't fair! I need that money if I hope to open-"

"I've already advised you against expansion at the present."

"And I can see why!" Furious, she had to lower her voice again. "How could you do this to me? How could you do it to any client?"

The slightest flicker of remorse appeared in Andre's eyes, then vanished with a return of his rock-hard expression. "I have my own pressures, Serena. It's not easy to support my ex-wives, the children, the house in Kenwood, and my other expenses. I've simply used your money-"

"-only mine?"

"Yours and others' money, to make different kinds of investments. They've been slightly more speculative. I'm waiting for them to pay off. Then I can return your money to you." A fine line of sweat just above his lip belied the calm tone of his voice.

"And you honestly think you'll hit it big?"