Author's Note: Yes, I know you must all be surprised to finally see this. I don't want to tie any of you up with a long, involved note before you can get to the reading. I won't ply you all with endless excuses. I can only say I ran into some major problems in the story, and as an author I really dropped the ball. I've been trying desperately to get this story out of my mind and onto the page where it belongs and finally I seem to be getting somewhere once again. I thank all of you who have been so gracious to review and PM me...your words are appreciated and I humbly apologize for the incredibly long delay. I hope that those of you who pop back in will be able to enjoy what I am finally able to offer.

Chapter 17

Serena drifted between row upon row of floral arrangements, pausing here and there to sniff a bloom or finger a petal. The fresh and divergent scents engulfed her senses, overwhelming her with the intrinsic perfume of nature. She paused in her wanderings before a particularly vibrant bouquet, brushing a slim finger along a bright orange tiger lily as she absent-mindedly noted that her mother's voice was growing fainter as they drew further and further apart. She didn't really care though…she was so bored.

It was now the Friday following Raye's wedding and Serena had agreed to accompany her mother to town in order to make a preliminary selection of possible choices for Lily's wedding's floral motif. She really hadn't wanted to go; she knew all too well just how dreary and tedious shopping with her mother could be. Lily had convinced her however, reminding her – none too gently – of her promise to fulfill her role as maid of honour. So Serena had come, but after suffering through the initial hour of droning endless chatter about bouquets, boutonnières, centerpieces and the like, she had managed to drift off while her mother and the manager toured the many display aisles. Serena had gotten more than her fill of flowers while she had been away at IVM, and now every time she found herself subjected to all things floral she felt a rather familiar headache coming on.

Speculating over the gauche bouquet in front of her – a horrific culmination splattered with violent shades of aubergine and chartreuse – she wrinkled her nose and turned away in distaste. Really, who would choose such an atrocious selection? Continuing in her lazy, disinterested perusal of the store, Serena wondered if her mother had even noticed that she'd wandered off. Not that her presence mattered much anyhow; despite holding the prestigious title of maid of honour, Serena knew full well that her input was far from necessary. In fact, if this outing was any indication of things to come, she didn't doubt that she'd be spending many a future afternoon wandering aimlessly through shops of all varieties. Bleak anticipation spurred a queasy knot to form in the pit of her stomach.

A quick glance about informed her of her mother's current location as she caught sight of the woman's immaculate chignon several rows away. Her mother and the manager were discussing an arrangement of chrysanthemums, and it appeared as though they were in disagreement over some detail or another. Serena shook her head and turned away, casting a longing-filled glance at the exit and made a silent vow that she would not agree to do this again. She realized Lily couldn't be here because of school – the girl had arranged to complete several high school courses through private tutelage this summer in order to expedite her graduation – but she wished there had been someone else to go with her mother. Perhaps she'd suggest Mrs. Cavanaugh for the next time…those two had plenty of fun together.

Shuffling her listless feet down another row of exotic blooms, Serena couldn't help but mope. It wasn't that she had better things to do, in fact, she hadn't done much at all this past week; but right now, anything would be preferable to this. Well, perhaps not anything. At least this had gotten her out of the house and away from her maddening thoughts for a few hours; thoughts about intimate embraces, soft lips and deft kisses. Sunday's startling turn of events had been plaguing her all week and no matter how hard Serena had tried, she had not been able to keep her mind from returning to the same string of thoughts time and time again. She'd been replaying the tantalizing indiscretion in her mind for what must have been the thousandth time when her mother had asked her to go flower shopping.

As she turned another corner around the end of the row, Serena wound up in front of a door she hadn't noticed earlier and eyed it with speculation. Could it be another exit? Maybe she could escape out the back and no one would be the wiser…or perhaps it was just another room full of flowers. She shrugged, figuring that the unknown provided more allure than trudging down another garlanded row. She pushed open the door and stepped through to the other side.

The door opened into a bright, warm white room, set up with four massive steel tables that were covered in planters. As she peered further, she could see that the back of the room was made up of two large doors that opened into an imposing greenhouse. Gathering from the tools and supplies scattered here and there, Serena figured that it had to be a prep room of sorts; meaning it was likely for staff only. Anxious to avoid an awkward discovery, she turned to make a hasty exit and collided with a large body in the process.

Reeling from the unanticipated collision, Serena couldn't stop herself from stumbling, but felt a hand clasp her arm in a steadying motion, pulling her back and righting her stance. Before she had time enough to even glance up at the assailed party, clumsily constructed chains of apology began streaming from between her lips. This immediate reaction of penitence was the conditioned response of an awkward youth filled with countless fumbling mishaps. It was only when she finally paused long enough to draw breath that she caught her first real glimpse of her victim, and what – or rather whom – she saw made her eyes widen in recognition as her mouth snapped firmly shut.

Standing before her was none other than the waiter from the wedding; what was his name…Eric something-or-other. He was much more visible this time, outfitted in a casual pair of slacks and a plain button-down shirt, a full apron tied around his waist. She noted that his sandy blonde hair was much lighter than she had first thought and discovered that his eyes were a rich shade of chocolate brown. The combination worked remarkably well together and she concluded that she had been right to find him handsome; he certainly was.

Remembering herself, she spluttered, "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He grinned amiably, his familiar expression suggesting that he remembered her from the wedding, and replied, "I work here. The question is; what are you doing here?"

She stared at him blankly for a few moments, unable to fully comprehend his response. "What do you mean," she finally said, "how can you work here? You're a waiter." Could it be he had known she would be here and had come to see her? She couldn't help but inwardly preen at the flattering thought.

"Ah, yes well," he replied, smiling all the while, "you may not be familiar with the concept, but some people work more than one job." Serena's crinkled expression spurred him into further explanation. "I work here during the day, and do the waiter gig nights."

Serena coloured at his explanation, embarrassed that the thought hadn't even occurred to her that he might have two jobs. She must seem like the worst type of snob! It was also a tad embarrassing that she had actually thought he had followed her here just to see her, but he didn't know she had thought that, so it was luckily less mortifying than it could have been, had she made such a thought audible. Realizing that she hadn't yet responded she muttered something akin to, "Oh, uh, I see."

He smiled at her a few moments more before glancing up around the room and then looking back at her. "So, should I assume you're here to pursue a job in the floral business, or did you just take a wrong turn?"

She released a light laugh, her embarrassment abating quickly, and shook her head. "The latter, I suppose. I got a bit distracted while I was wandering around. Sorry, I didn't know this was a staff area."

"No harm done," he replied easily, moving past her to drop a rucksack on the floor next to one of the tables. "So, Miss Davenport, what brings you here: shopping for a special event?"

She smiled and noted, with a certain amount of pleasure, that he had remembered her name. He was very easy to talk to. "I'm here with my mother," she answered, "we're doing a preliminary wedding perusal, you might say."

"Your own wedding?" he asked casually, although his intense gaze bespoke an underlying interest.

"No," she responded rather quickly, strangely eager to correct him, "for my sister's. She's getting married in January." She wasn't sure why she had been so quick to clarify that fact.

Maybe it was in order to see the lazy, handsome grin that was now lighting up his face. "I can't say that I'm not just a bit pleased to hear you say that," he said in a charming tone and winked cheekily.

Was he flirting with her?

"Only a bit?" she replied.

Good Lord, was she flirting with him?

His grin widened and they stood opposite each other in silence a few moments, exchanging smiles. It wasn't until Serena heard someone calling her name that she snapped out of her trance and came to attention. She glanced over her shoulder at the door and then turned back to him, a regretful look in her eyes. "That's my mother calling…I'd better go." She didn't move to leave though.

He approached her, an easy smile still on his face, and stopped when there was less than a foot between them. He reached down and took one of her hands, raising it between them, and bent down to press his lips against it as he had done on that first night they had met. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Davenport."

She nodded in a flustered fashion and said nothing, jumping as her mother's calling sounded nearer. She gave him one last fleeting look before turning and passing through the door. Perhaps this trip hadn't been so boring after all.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair at home. Serena was content to enjoy the scrumptious fare in silence while Lily and her mother prattled on about the various choices Emily had discovered during their outing earlier that day. The two seemed absolutely in their element, and even Aunt Rachel interjected with a few helpful comments of her own.

Since that oh-so-uncomfortable breakfast on Sunday morning, it appeared as though Emily and Rachel had managed to come to a mutual agreement to ruin no further meals with their awkward silences. Serena wasn't sure what had occurred to create such an impasse, but she chose not to question it as she was simply relieved by the change, as were the rest of the table's occupants, she was fairly sure. Not that her mother and her aunt were spending any inordinate amount of time together now; no, on the contrary, it seemed that the only time they truly came together was to enjoy the compulsory three meals a day. Other than that the two seemed determined to steer clear of each other. A fact Serena had categorically made note of…she hoped to soon learn exactly what the fly in their sisterly ointment was.

But for now, breakfast, lunch and dinner were very much tolerable, and considering her love of food, Serena could ask for nothing more at the moment. Spearing a deliciously glazed baby carrot, her thoughts drifted to her earlier encounter with Eric Fullmore. He was charming, there was no denying that. Handsome as well; and something about him completely captivated her attention. She was practical enough to know there was no sense in even considering travelling down that path; there were some blatantly obvious roadblocks staring her in the face and she knew better. But that didn't mean she couldn't spend a few harmless moments thinking about him.

Unconsciously, she gently fingered the area of the hand he had brought to his lips mere hours ago, unable to stop a soft, unbidden sigh from escaping her mouth. Feeling the attention before she actually saw it, Serena looked up and discovered her aunt watching her with curious eyes. Serena quickly blushed and looked down, returning her attention to her meal. Aunt Rachel had begun to prove herself as a kindred soul during the first week of her stay…but she had also managed to become a minor pest on one particular subject; Darien Cavanaugh.

Rachel had managed to squeeze a limited amount of information out of Serena that past Sunday afternoon. She had not been high-handed about it – or obnoxious like Lily – and that had lulled Serena into loosing her lips a touch; but Serena had been careful to keep most of her cards closely hidden at hand. She had not divulged her conflicted emotions in the matter and Rachel had not pressed her for them. Whether this was due to a respect for Serena's privacy, or simply because the woman had already made her own deductions, Serena wasn't sure. There had been no great lectures, nor sage advice; her aunt had merely nodded at the limited disclosure and sipped her tea, a contemplative expression on her face. In the end she had only made a rather cryptic remark, "Be careful my dear, men have an uncanny ability to turn you in directions you never thought possible," and their discussion had turned to safer subjects.

But now, after nearly a week had passed, Serena hadn't failed to notice her aunt giving her several strange looks now and again; she always sensed the looks before she actually witnessed them. And every time she did, she was reminded of her compromising encounter with Darien in the parlour…if she hadn't already been thinking about it at the time. The predictable return to this all-too-familiar train of thought spurred Serena to give herself a mental slap. Here she was, thinking of a stranger she had been flirting with earlier that day and she had only just been passionately kissing her childhood enemy a few days prior. She cringed inwardly at the harsh realization…did this make her a floozy? No, probably not, but nonetheless, she doubted she'd be asking anyone else's opinion on the matter.

It might be a positive thing that she had managed to flirt a bit with Eric this afternoon; after all, that must prove that Darien didn't have her completely blindsided. There was no denying that she was still reeling from their steamy exchange, even though it was now a full five days later, but it was reassuring to know he hadn't managed to completely monopolize her every thought. She could still react like any other normal female would to a charming male, and she had done so without having Darien cross her mind once. That was certainly encouraging.

It failed to erase what had happened between them though, and she knew she had another awkward encounter to look forward to before long. She wondered why she had even let him kiss her in the first place; why she had let herself kiss him back. Probably because she had actually wanted to at the time, but admissions such as those were highly dangerous and very much discouraged. The sensation had not been altogether unpleasant; if she was being completely honest with herself, she might have admitted that it had been one of the single most pleasurable kisses she had ever shared.

Recalling the way he had responded to her exploration, Serena couldn't help but allow a small grin to grace her features. There was no denying that she affected him greatly, that he had been carried away by her willing response. But then her grin turned to a frown as a thought occurred to her for the first time since this whole chain of events had been spurred into motion by an untimely declaration of love. Perhaps his unrestrained reaction to her kiss couldn't serve as outright proof of his professions, but it certainly worked to negate the slight possibility that this was all just some elaborate hoax. Serena knew she had still been hanging onto that last thread of doubt, no matter how frayed it had been, but she understood that it had all but disintegrated with Sunday's occurrence.

Darien was always so collected, so in control; every move he made, every word he uttered always seemed so planned, so calculated. Of course she had still been weighing the possibility that he was toying with her. But there was no ignoring his impassioned response to her willingness; she could hardly dismiss the way his body had come alive at her simplest touch. It had taken her this long to accept it, but it was obvious that Darien's feelings were rooted in reality; and with that realization came a hurdling onslaught of fresh ramifications.

It meant that he truly had feelings invested in this; that he was not aiming for her humiliation, but rather their unified happiness. It meant that he was actually pursuing her with the honest-to-God intention of making her his girlfriend; his fiancée; his – dare she even think it – wife? She blanched at the dawning actualization and barely noticed as her fork clanked noisily against her plate before continuing its long descent to the floor. She didn't come to attention until the fourth or fifth time her mother said her name, and when she finally glanced up at the table's other occupants her expression was confused and frazzled. Her family was staring at her with intent watchful gazes; her mother's eyes narrowed in puzzled concern.

"Why are you so pale, darling?"

"Are you all right?"

"What's the matter?"

Who was saying what? Serena couldn't match the voices to faces, and her vision started to blur disconcertingly. What was going on and why was her chest so tight? She needed some fresh air; that must be the problem; it was much too hot in here. Frantically she scraped her feet against the floor and pushed at the edge of the table in an attempt to force her seat backward. The rug would not allow such movement though, and her frenetic pushing at the table caused her chair to tilt back and plummet to the ground with her still seated.

She barely noticed the impact of the crash as she fell heavily, her back crunching against the hard chair. Most of the air whooshed out of her lungs, not quite enough to knock the wind out of her, but enough to relieve the tightness in her chest. She didn't move to get up, and instead, focused on breathing deeply in and out, reclaiming the natural rhythm that had so swiftly evaded her only moments ago. She heard the rustlings of quick movement and shortly after the concerned faces of her family appeared in her line of vision; her mother, Aunt Rachel, and Lily hovering above while her father kneeled down next to her and placed a gentle hand on her forehead.

He asked her if she was all right…she thought about it for a moment and then nodded that she was. The tightness was gone, she had cooled down, and the panicked fluttering in her stomach had abated. She didn't protest when her father slipped his arms underneath her upper back and her knees respectively, lifting her slowly from her awkward position in the overturned chair. She relished in the comforting feeling of his arms around her, enjoying the protective warmth that had been so familiar to her as a child. A fleeting wave of nostalgia passed through her as she suddenly yearned for the days when she had believed her father could protect her from anything she found even remotely threatening.

Things were different now, she was older, as was her father, and as an adult she would have to deal with most challenges on her own. Her aunt righted the chair and Serena beckoned her father to let her down. He did so with care and when her feet were once again safely on the floor she lingered momentarily in his embrace. Yes, she would have to do things on her own, and she knew she would manage; still, it was comforting to know she would always have someone waiting in the wings to give her a helping hand, should she need it.

The magic of the moment dissipated then and everyone returned to their seats and their respective plates. Serena sat carefully, finally succumbing to the inevitable embarrassment, and turned her attention fully upon her food, unwilling to look up just yet should anyone still be watching her. She really had to do something about this situation with Darien, and quickly; having near panic attacks at the dinner table was completely unacceptable. But she would force him from her thoughts for the time being…there was no sense in chancing another humiliating spectacle for tonight. Instead, she focused on finishing her meal and listened quietly to the conversation. Thankfully her mother and Lily were through discussing all things floral.

"Oh, and remember girls," Emily said offhandedly, "that your grandmother has invited us for dinner tomorrow evening. She wants to have a small family gathering to celebrate your engagement, Lily."

Lily smiled brightly in response and Serena rolled her eyes dryly. She didn't begrudge her sister her happiness, but Lily's enthusiasm as the bride-to-be was bordering on effusive. She enjoyed seeing her sister so happy, but six more months of this behaviour might be more than she'd be able to stomach.

"So it'll be just the six of us?" Serena asked quietly, knowing that a 'small family gathering' didn't always end up as just that.

"No darling," Emily clarified, unsurprising to Serena, "ten, of course."

"Ten?" Serena echoed, confused as she mentally counted heads again. Five of them plus grandmother made six, didn't it? She considered using her fingers, but her mother was swift to respond.

"Yes Serena, ten; the five of us, your grandmother and the Cavanaughs makes ten."

"The Cavanaughs?" Serena frowned at the thought.

"Yes silly," Lily said, rolling her eyes, "we can't very well have a dinner to celebrate my engagement without Holden and his family." She flicked Serena's ear and added, "Are you sure you didn't hit your head when you fell?" When Serena merely blinked back at her in response Lily rolled her eyes and shifted her gaze to Serena's near-empty wineglass. "That's it," she said as she snatched the glass and moved it away, well out of her sister's reach, "you're cut off."

Serena scowled and stuck out her tongue at Lily in retaliation, knowing the reaction was childish, but unable to stop herself regardless. She turned her eyes in her aunt's direction when she heard the woman chuckle warmly, and she noticed Lily do so as well.

Aunt Rachel only winked at their perplexed expressions and said, "It's nice to be around young people again, one forgets how amusing their company can be."

"Thank heaven you missed most of the early years," George remarked dryly, "their bickering wasn't quite as amusing back then."

"Oh, I don't know," Rachel replied airily, a tinge of sadness in her eyes, "I don't think I would have minded so much."

Serena didn't miss the sidewise glance that her mother directed at her aunt then, a strange, conflicted look. Rachel cleared her throat quietly and took a sip of her wine before turning back to the prior topic in a lighter tone. "Well, it should be nice to see Mother; it's certainly been a while." Her hand trembled slightly as she set down her wineglass and Serena's eyes narrowed in suspicion; was Aunt Rachel unsettled at the idea of seeing her grandmother?

She supposed she would soon find out.

The next evening arrived with an almost alarming swiftness, and before Serena knew it, she was being ushered in through the magnificent front doors of her grandmother's home. Margaret Wyndemere kept an immaculate household. The estate was massive, and although she was now the sole occupant – besides a significant household staff – she had no trouble keeping the place in order.

For the most part, Serena enjoyed visiting her grandmother. Visits to the Wyndemere home weren't terribly frequent as Margaret spent much of the year – primarily the cold months – in the south of France and parts of Greece. When Margaret was home she was sure to make time for family visits, however she also had to cram a year's worth of society events into the few months she had in town. This made for some truly comprehensive gatherings, and most small talk was left at the door. Without the buffer of a year-round acquaintance, family conversations were often direct and all-encompassing; there simply wasn't enough time to bide, so to speak.

Margaret Wyndemere had never wasted time indulging what she saw as the "errs and faux pas" of those nearest and dearest. Certainly she applauded Serena's piano recitals, Lily's equestrian shows and Emily's various functions for the DAR. However, while she was unfailingly encouraging of her family's more successful accomplishments, she was equally censorious of their…well, less than successful endeavours. Serena only hoped that her mother had erred on the side of discretion about last year's disagreement over IVM and all it had entailed. She realized it was unlikely that Emily had kept word of their power struggle from Margaret, however that didn't keep her from hoping as much. Although Margaret was a kind woman, she was also incredibly shrewd, and grew more so with each passing year.

Despite this, Serena was fairly confident that she would manage to get safely through the evening without falling victim to her grandmother's sharp commentary; after all, the dinner was in honour of Holden and Lily's engagement, and if that didn't provide enough conversation, Aunt Rachel's sudden return surely would. No, tonight Serena was looking forward to enjoying what would surely be a delicious meal – her grandmother always planned the most wonderful menus – and she'd spend the rest of the time dealing with Darien. She had no idea how he would act, but she had promised herself that she would keep a level head and stay cool. So long as she managed that, she'd be able to handle anything he threw at her.

One of two maids that had greeted them at the door came to collect Serena's sweater and she handed it over gratefully. This summer had been warm so far, but the nights had been relatively cool for July, and light jackets had proved necessary. Once everyone was suitably unencumbered from their outer wear, they followed another maid – a diminutive slip of a girl named Lucy – to the left and down a hallway to the main parlour. Serena entered the room before her father and smiled at the happy, yet graceful sight of her grandmother who had risen to greet them.

Margaret Davenport was a handsome woman. One used the term 'handsome' not to infer that she was masculine in any way, but rather because 'pretty' didn't work well to describe a woman of her age, and 'beautiful' didn't seem to capture the dignity of her personage. She was always immaculately dressed and coiffed; usually clad in an elegantly tailored skirted suit with her soft, silver hair pulled gently back into a perfect chignon. Serena's mother had always worked to carefully emulate this look; however the resulting image was never quite the same. Margaret wore little makeup, but the small amount she did wear was always so meticulously applied, upon first glance, one might assume she was wearing none at all. Her shoes were generally modest, but never scuffed, and Serena had never seen the woman without a pristine French manicure. All in all, the elements worked together harmoniously to present a rather striking figure, imposing with a slight tightening of her jaw, and warmly familiar with the curve of her lips.

Serena hurried over with Lily to say their hellos and make their embraces. She relaxed in the woman's arms and inhaled the familiar scent of jasmine and citrus. Her grandmother gently pushed her away, keeping one hand on each of Serena's arms and eyed her from head to toe. It was only then that Serena realized that she hadn't seen the woman since the summer before last, before any of the drama had even begun to occur. Margaret had spent the majority of the previous summer in Europe and had only returned to Connecticut after Serena had left for IVM. She flushed under the matriarch's sharp gaze and held in a breath as the woman released one of her arms and raised the free hand to gently nudge her chin upward.

"I'm not sure I recognize this face," Margaret muttered aloud as she tilted Serena's face from one side to the other. "I don't know, George," she continued as he came up beside her, "are you sure this is my granddaughter?"

Serena's father frowned pensively, as though giving the query some serious thought and gave his daughter a closer look from head to toe, provoking the beginning of a nettled grimace from the girl in question. "Now that you mention it Margaret, I'm thinking you may be right. The daughter I sent away to Switzerland last year stole cookies from the kitchen and wore pyjamas all day on Sundays. This one," and here he paused to wave a slightly bewildered hand at Serena, "is entirely too elegant and composed to be my daughter. There must have been some mix-up." Serena raised her eyes skyward and received a playful wink from her father before he moved away to mix himself and his wife a drink.

"So, I leave a girl behind and return to see a woman in her place," Margaret remarked quietly, although her words escaped no one. "I don't imagine little Lily will have you beaten for long with this face my dear." Serena blushed again, but held still as her grandmother cupped her cheek in one hand and pressed an affectionate kiss against her forehead.

"We can only hope," Emily muttered dryly as she clasped her mother's hand and kissed her cheek before taking the gimlet George had made her and choosing a nearby sofa.

Serena rolled her eyes at her mother's comment but said nothing and chose a seat on her favourite chaise. Any retorts would certainly only provoke further commentary on a subject she was all too happy to avoid. The silence that ensued reminded Serena that there was still one party in the room that had not said their hello. Her eyes instinctively sought out her aunt and she watched keenly as the two women stood opposite each other, wary expressions on both their faces.

Rachel stepped forward awkwardly and extended a hand, offering a cool, "Hello Mother."

Margaret eyed the proffered hand with what appeared to be nothing short of marked disdain before raising her eyes to her daughter's. They stood there a few moments more before Rachel allowed the extended hand to drop back to her side and she gave her mother a quick nod instead, which Margaret returned reluctantly.

"I'm not entirely sure I'm all that surprised to see you here, Rachel."

Rachel held her mother's gaze quite admirably and replied, "I imagine that accounts for the unusually warm welcome then, does it?" Despite the passive evenness of Rachel's words, the thick overtone of sarcasm in her speech draped itself throughout the room, weighing uncomfortably on everyone.

Margaret let loose a low, sharp clucking noise before returning, "Always a clever answer for everything, Heaven forbid you should let anything go unsaid."

"And follow in the family tradition?" Rachel rejoined quickly. "You should know by now Mother, that I much prefer the road less traveled."

"Oh, yes of course, how could any of us forget, no matter how hard we try?"

Serena's father rose to his feet and cleared his throat before Rachel could escalate things any further. A pointed silence descended over the room and although George had managed to temporarily defuse the situation, he seemed unsure of how to tactfully proceed through the awkward moment.

Luckily enough, timing prevailed over circumstance and the doorbell sounded throughout the house, heralding the arrival of the second wave of guests. Everyone in the room – except perhaps for Serena – instantly relaxed at the momentary saviour.

"Serena, Lily," Emily said, giving each of them a quick nod, "why don't the two of you go and meet the Cavanaughs at the door?"

Both of the girls exchanged a look before nodding back at their mother and doing as she asked. There was no point in questioning the strange request; they knew they had been asked to leave so that they would be excluded from whatever conversation was about to occur.

"What do you think that was all about?" Lily asked quietly as the two made their way to the front of the house.

"I have no idea," Serena responded evenly. Although one part of her mind was busily whirring with the events that had occurred only a moment ago, another part was also fortifying itself for her coming encounter with Darien. She struggled to push the confrontation between her grandmother and her aunt from the forefront of her thoughts before she came face to face with Darien, however she couldn't seem to shake the harsh exchange completely. Straightening her spine almost imperceptibly, she and Lily rounded the last corner and came to a stop in the foyer where Lucy was currently ushering the Cavanaughs inside.

Hanging back slightly at first, Serena observed as Lily surged ahead and exchanged the perfunctory greetings with Charles and Miriam before making a beeline for Holden. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena caught sight of the two sneaking a quick kiss hello and she grinned when her eyes met Miriam's and she discovered she was also discretely making note of their clandestine encounter. She moved to share a warm embrace with the woman and receive her customary pat on the head from Mr. Cavanaugh; she smiled good-naturedly as usual, but immediately moved her hands back to her hair to be sure he hadn't given her a bird's nest.

Then, drawing in a silent breath, she turned to greet Darien. Not surprisingly, she found him standing close at hand, however she hadn't been prepared for the nervous wave of butterflies that surged violently throughout her abdomen, momentarily rendering her completely dumb. His tender, unguarded smile warmed her from the inside out and her alarm rose when she realized how weak she was already, without him having even opened his mouth…his sweet, guiding mouth…

She was doomed.

All she could do was try and brace herself for the spectacle she would surely produce when he advanced this time in front of his family. She was so weak.

"Hello Serena," he greeted her and she cringed as he raised his right hand to squeeze her left shoulder in a friendly manner. "Good to see you."

She blinked.

It took a few more moments' passing before Serena fully realized that was all she was going to get. She blinked again and swallowed before opening her mouth and forcing some intelligible reply out in return. She wasn't sure what she had said, she only hoped it had made sense. Her mind was whirling in confusion.

"Well," Charles piped in, clasping his hands together jovially, "how about you girls show us where we can get a drink. I don't mind saying I'm eager to sample Margaret's selection of single malts."

Serena turned, her manner a touch distracted, and gestured in the direction they needed to go, "Yes, they're all in the main parlour, I'll just-"

She paused as she felt a hand gently grasp her elbow and stop her movement. Feeling the heat of the touch, she knew who it was before she even turned, meeting his eyes with her own wide, befuddled orbs.

"Actually, I was hoping I might borrow Serena for a minute," Darien said, releasing her elbow easily. "Just a few wedding party questions I had for her so I know my duties."

She frowned in puzzlement. Why would he want to talk to her about the wedding? It wasn't for another six months and the best man really didn't have any duties anyway. Furrowing her brows she shook her head, "But, right now-"

"It'll only take a minute." His demeanour was calm, but his eyes didn't waver and his tone was insistent.

Serena opened her mouth to refuse him but found her tongue was twisted yet again, so in despair she cast a fleeting look between Darien and his parents, trying to convey in a look what she should have been able to say so easily.

Lily's interjection couldn't have come soon enough. "It's all right, I'll lead the way. Go ahead 'Rena, you can catch up with us." There was only a slight pointed glance in Serena's direction and then Lily was herding Holden and his parents around the corner and off to the parlour.

The silent oppression of seclusion brought forth an involuntary shudder within Serena and she grimaced as it ran its course down her spine. It used to be that when she was unfortunate enough to find herself alone with Darien, the only thing she'd be feeling was annoyance. Would things ever be that simple between them again? She could feel his eyes on her but she was reluctant to return his gaze. She didn't know if she could trust herself around him anymore, and that was causing her stomach to tie itself in painful knots. Drawing upon her dwindling reserve of inner strength, she mustered up the gumption to look at him.

He was still sporting that same warm smile and before she could begin to melt again, Serena blurted out the first words her mind could supply, "So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

He blinked in response, as though caught off guard by her words, but he recovered quickly and offered her an impish grin. "I'm afraid that was a bit of a lie," he admitted, which prompted her to frown, however he spoke again before she could question him, raising his arms in front of him, hands closed. "Pick a hand."

Her response was a blank stare and silence as her mind worked to perceive his current motivations. What on Earth was he doing? She had been expecting smooth grins and sly remarks…the trouble that naturally ensued whenever he was within fifty feet of her. Not calm greetings and – well, what was this anyway? "Pick a what?" she echoed in puzzlement.

He just smiled and waved his arms, nodding at his closed hands in an encouraging manner before repeating, "Pick a hand."

Unable to find any hidden meaning in his proposition, Serena allowed herself to see the action in a simpler light. This simplistic view of his strange request brought forth a discouraging wave of nostalgia. Vivid memories of slimy toads and wriggly worms came back to her and she eyed his outstretched hands with new distrust. Taking a step back she shook her head and replied, "No, I don't think so. I'm too old to fall for that again, and you're too old to even be trying."

He laughed in response, catching her unaware with his seemingly unassuming good-natured attitude, but didn't lower his arms. "I suppose I can't blame you for erring on the side of caution; however I assure you that I agree. I'm much, much too old to be foraging for toads nowadays." He wiggled his hands again, encouraging her to make a decision.

Still wary, she eyed the closed fists, unsure of exactly what this was about, but unable to suppress her newfound curiosity. "Yes, entirely too old for any of that toad business," he reiterated, lessening her apprehension. She began to reach out and choose his right hand when he went on, "Snakes on the other hand…" She recoiled in an instant, throwing him a dirty look in the process.

"You're awful," she said, scowling as his expression turned mirthful with restrained laughter. "I don't know why I bother," she grumbled, turning her back and making for the direction of the parlour.

He dropped his hands to his sides and couldn't help but allow a few chuckles to escape before trying to reassume an earnest demeanour. "Wait, I'm sorry, I really do have something for you."

She didn't stop to reply, only turned her head slightly to toss over her shoulder, "I couldn't be less interested in anything you have to offer me, Darien Cavanaugh."

Logic and experience told her that wouldn't be the end of it – she never could manage the final word in their exchanges – so when his arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind before she had taken only a few more steps, she wasn't really surprised. But her body reacted nonetheless. She stopped in her tracks, closing her eyes as the all-too-familiar wave of butterflies surged throughout her stomach and tightened the airflow in her chest. The exposed skin at her neck and collarbones tingled where the wool sleeves of his suit made contact. She inhaled a deep, shaky breath, all too aware that he would hear it and know just how affected she was, but unable to stop herself. She held the large rush of air prisoner in her lungs longer than usual, forcing her body to remain still, desperate to gain complete control of her senses.

Something smooth and soft gently grazed her jaw and she gasped, releasing the air in one giant trembling whoosh. His arms drew her closer to him, pressing her back snug to his chest, aligning their bodies like two puzzle pieces. Serena's mind railed at how effortlessly they seemed to fit together. Once again she felt the same softness flutter against her jaw and realized in horror that her knees seemed dangerously close to giving out on her.

"Open your eyes."

His whisper was her undoing. Her eyelids fluttered open in compliance and at first all she saw was a blur of red. As her vision focused, she made sense of the red blur; a rose. A full, vibrant, perfect long-stemmed rose. His chin dropped to her shoulder, allowing him to nuzzle his cheek against her own. Her stomach quivered in response, but despite it all, Serena couldn't stop her mouth from drooping into a frown.

She had thought about this moment all week long, agonizing over and over again about what to do and then forcing the thoughts from her mind in frustration. She hadn't been able to come up with any perfect solution, nor had she received any sage advice from which to draw support. She hadn't dared to breath a word to Lily about the kiss and Aunt Rachel hadn't pried. She wished now that she had told someone, asked someone for the answer. She couldn't understand herself, but maybe someone else could. Someone could make sense of all this confusion, these contradictory feelings, and give her the solution. Deep down she knew it wasn't that simple though. She was beginning to understand that nothing was ever simple when it came to matters of the…well, nothing was ever simple with Darien.

She released a sigh and then pushed against him, encountering just a small amount of resistance before he caught on and released her. She made sure she was a few steps away before turning and facing him. His expression was still unguarded, however there was no more easy smile. His eyes were hooded and questioning, his mouth a passive line. Her frown deepened and she cast her eyes down to the floor for a moment before looking up again to meet his gaze.

"We need to talk."

The contours of his face tightened into a quick grimace, but he recovered in an instant, replacing the unfamiliar openness of expression with a familiar wry grin. He twirled the rose between his fingers with graceful ease, glancing from its soft petals to her hard expression. "I wondered if going with red was pushing it, but I figured a little romance never hurt a guy's case."

His words were light, but Serena knew him well enough to catch the bitter edge to his tone. She forced herself to give him a smile, knowing that it wouldn't reach her eyes, and said, "It's lovely."

Her meagre offering did nothing to cheer him, but he thrust the rose toward her. "I swiped it from the garden," he explained as she reached out to take it from him. They both flinched for a moment as their fingers touched. He pulled his hand back too quick, revealing his discomfort, and added, "If my mother asks, the story is I bought it, all right?" He tried to pull off a mischievous wink and she tried to smile.

A few moments passed in thick, miserable silence before she repeated, "We need to talk, Darien."

He sighed and replied, "I guess we do."

Approaching footsteps sounded in the hall, shattering their private moment. Serena's heart leapt in secret relief, knowing that they had to have their discussion, but happy that it would have to wait, if only a little longer. She glanced down at the rose in her hands and permitted herself a moment of wistful admiration before plucking at the stem. Her fingers were nimble, and in only a few moments she had it shortened enough to reach up and tuck it into a notch on his jacket's lapel.

She swivelled around just in time to see her mother and Mrs. Cavanaugh turn the corner and come into view. Her mother reached them just before Miriam did, and was the first to speak. "Serena, Darien, here you are. Dinner is ready, what have the two of you been doing?"

Serena opened her mouth to respond, but realized at the last moment that she didn't have an appropriate answer. She stood there, mouth agape, a blush blooming in her cheeks, until Darien spoke up for her.

"It's my fault. I had a few questions about my duties as Best Man and Serena was kind enough to set me straight." He paused for only a fraction of a second, just long enough for Serena to appreciate his careful choice of words. "But now that she's made things abundantly clear," he went on, bringing his hands together and donning a charming smile, "dinner beckons and I'd hate to keep everyone waiting."

Emily and Miriam shifted their gazes to Darien, studying him a moment before flicking back to Serena and the strange blush that had dawned upon her features. The two women exchanged a knowing look before Emily turned back, one eyebrow raised, and gestured for Darien and Serena to come along to the dining room.

They did so and fell into pairs, Darien moving forward to escort his mother, while Serena and Emily fell into step behind them. Serena watched Darien in silence, noting foreign pangs of guilt rising in her chest as he chatted amiably with his mother. Agitated, she lowered her eyes to the polished floor passing underneath her feet. Feeling a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, she looked up and found her mother eyeing her with confused concern.

"Is everything all right?" Emily asked. Serena's affirmative reply was much too high and tight to be believable, but her mother didn't push the subject. Emily didn't breathe another word and Serena wondered at her mother's sudden decision to allow her some privacy.

The others were already seated in the dining room when the four stragglers arrived and Serena followed suit and chose a seat between her father and Mr. Cavanaugh. Her grandmother always insisted upon staggering the guests by gender and separating couples, so as to promote different opportunities for conversation. Darien chose a seat opposite her, while Lily and Holden were seated near the head of the table, on either side of Margaret. It didn't escape Serena's notice that Aunt Rachel was conveniently situated at the far end of the table, as far from Margaret as possible.

The meal started off with a rich New England clam chowder and discussion of familiar topics; the women talked about Emily and Miriam's latest fundraiser at the DAR and Margaret's plans to renovate the guest quarters at the rear of the estate, while the men touched briefly on politics before discoursing on the golf season they'd had. It wasn't until they'd worked half way through the main course before the subject officially turned to Lily and Holden's engagement. Margaret offered the two her formal congratulations and talk turned to plans for the event.

"We'll need to throw a proper engagement party, of course," Emily said.

"Certainly," Margaret agreed, "do you have a number of guests in mind yet?"

Emily and Miriam exchanged frowns before turning their eyes back to Margaret. "Well, I suppose we don't have an exact number quite yet…what do you think Mother?"

Serena heard the tone of the conversation take on a familiar drone and blinked to keep her eyes from glazing over. For the past two weeks, every breakfast, lunch and dinner discussion had been dedicated to wedding talk and she was beginning to suspect that such was likely to be the case until Lily was officially a Davenport no more. Serena was not however, anticipating that day with any particular fervour. Granted it would be a relief to be finished with what was likely to become a grand, all-consuming event, but it also meant that Lily would be married. Married to Holden and out of the house and beginning her own life; leaving Serena all alone with no buffer between her and her parents.

Conflicted by the morose, if not melodramatic turn of thought, Serena wondered if she should roll her eyes or openly weep. Lily was seventeen and getting married and Serena was now cast in the role of the older, unwed sister with no marriage ambitions or prospects to speak of. She anticipated the bitter moan that threatened to surface and stuffed a forkful of asparagus into her mouth to stifle it. She chewed vigorously on the acrid green spear as her mind taunted her with visions of rocking chairs, knitting needles, and her mother lecturing her on marriage from her death bed. The morbid and somewhat twisted vision disturbed her enough to cause her to drop her fork, which fell to her plate with an obnoxious clank before bouncing and continuing its descent to the floor below.

She sensed the gazes before she saw them and she felt the embarrassing flush of colour rush up her neck and flow into her cheeks. Unable to meet the reproachful gazes of her fellow diners she forced a quirky grin and apologized before darting underneath the table to find her errant silverware. She wasn't sure if the ensuing gasp of horror came from her mother or her grandmother, but it was a safe bet to assume that she had made a further – and much larger – social faux pas by chasing the object of her clumsiness under the table. She searched for the fork but failed to find it ready at hand at the foot of her chair. Refusing to come back up empty handed, she scuttled her way completely under the table and eyed her quarry lying innocently between what had to be Darien's shoes. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the predictable placement before she scooted the rest of the way to retrieve it.

"I think you should probably come back up here before your mother starts having palpitations."

Her head shot up at the voice and collided with the table with alarming force. Her vision went white and before she could filter her reaction she raised a hand to her smarting skull and let out a loud, angry curse. The voice quickly manifested itself into a body and Darien was under the table with her, grasping her upper arm and moving to usher her out from under the table. She was loathe to go with him though, having heard the surprised exclamations at her less than ladylike choice of vocabulary. His grasp was firm though, and he helped her forward with an adept motion, placing a protective hand over her head as they rose from under the table.

When she was back on two feet, the first person Serena came face to face with was Lucy, the maid from who had ushered them in earlier, and who was now sporting a shocked expression and holding shiny new fork. Serena felt the heat of her blush rise up past her ears and she raised the hand that was still clutching her own recovered utensil. Lucy was wise enough to remain silent and took Serena's fork, replacing it with the fresh one she held and scurried from the room. There was hardly enough time for Serena to speculate on how quickly the entire kitchen staff would be laughing at her ridiculous behaviour before Darien's hands returned and whisked her around to face him.

He ran deft fingers along her arms and shoulders before bring them softly up to her head, searching for any tender, injured areas. Serena winced as one of his hands grazed a sore spot on her skull, but she ignored the pain and reached up to push his hands away. He seemed reluctant to comply, but she shooed him with adamance, needing to be left alone more out of desperation to not draw any more attention to herself than an actual surety of her well being. He insisted on helping her into her seat before leaving her side and she didn't object, wishing she could make the seconds tick faster with sheer force of will.

Once they were seated again, Serena made a special effort to stare only at her plate, gripping her new fork tight so as not to lose it again. The rest of the table was silent and she murmured out a low apology for her clumsiness in hopes that would be all that was needed to move past the awkward moment. She glimpsed Mr. Cavanaugh shift in his seat next to her as he cleared his throat and that seemed to break the spell. The air in the room began to circulate once more and some of the awkward weight lifted from Serena's shoulders.

"It would seem she didn't come back quite as polished as we would have first guessed then," was her grandmother's dry observation.

Serena's heart dropped as she glimpsed her mother's tense shoulders. A hearty hand dropped down on her head in the next instant – nearly eliciting another sharp curse from her lips at the acute pain it brought – and Mr. Cavanaugh let out a deep chortle. "Now Margaret, I know how proper you ladies like everything to be, but a little quirk here and there never hurt anything. I, for one, am glad to see some of the old charm shine through…you always keep things interesting Serena dear."

Serena gave him a wan smile, taking his sincere words to heart, but still smarting from the embarrassment.

"Yes, of course Charles," Emily replied, "I just hope that when the day finally comes for Serena to make her way down the aisle that she'll manage to make the trip in one piece."

Serena lowered her head and scowled at her mother's words, marvelling at how the subject had somehow been brought round to marriage once again. She was caught unawares then, when Aunt Rachel spoke up in her stead.

"Emily, I'm sure that if," here she paused to stress the word, "and when Serena chooses to make that special trip down the aisle, whoever is waiting for her at the end won't give a fig how she gets there, only that she does."

Serena's eyes flashed up to her aunt, who was locking gazes with her mother, but she spared a moment to throw a brief smile in Serena's direction. Emily sputtered in response, but it was Margaret who gave the retort. "Rachel dear, that's a lovely sentiment, but I do think it best that you leave the subject of marriage in more…experienced hands. After all, you're woefully past due for your own trip down the aisle, my dear."

Serena felt the earlier tension from the parlour descend once more and she knew she wasn't alone in sensing it. The table's occupants tensed noticeably at the barbed comment and Serena's eyes darted in concern between her aunt and her grandmother. She noted a disappointed expression on her mother's face in the process.

Rachel did not seem shaken by her mother's biting words though. "I'm sorry Mother, I forgot how trying it can be for you every time I have an opinion."

"Not at all, dear," Margaret rejoined with record speed. "It's just that I feel your own lacklustre track record in this particular area would suggest that your advice might not be so sage."

"What a relief to know I can always count on you to remind me of my mistakes should I ever forget them."

"Rachel, your very presence here is a glaring reminder of the trials you've put your family through."

"Mother –" Emily tried to interject, but one look from Margaret silenced her. When Rachel said nothing, Serena's grandmother continued. "You may think that you can come back out of the blue like this and we'll all pretend as though nothing has happened –"

"Well, that is your strong suit though, isn't it Mother?" Rachel interjected, the heat of her anger apparent in her tone, "Pretending as though anything you don't approve of simply hasn't happened?"

"I will not be spoken to like that in my own house by my daughter of all people," Margaret exclaimed in a firm tone. "Rachel, you may not like to hear it, but your rash choices have consequences, as well you should know by now. You can paint myself and your father, God rest his soul, as the villains in your story, but we both know you've been the only one to ever dictate your own actions."

"No matter how hard you tried to make it otherwise," Rachel bit back bitterly.

"Be that as it may, my dear, you are the one who has come back here, penniless and without the husband you only recently acquired, despite my better urging last summer. You've made your stance infinitely clear; you won't ever heed my advice. However, I will ask you to keep your opinion to yourself when it comes to my grandchildren, your nieces. I certainly don't need my eldest granddaughter listening to any of your misguided advice."

Rachel sat silent, her bold expression of defiance gradually fading to one of utter dejection. In an attempt to save face, she lifted the napkin resting in her lap and rose from her seat, her ramrod posture in direct contradiction with her tragic smile. "I'm sorry for ruining your evening everyone. It seems that old habits do indeed die hard." She dropped the napkin to the table and turned to exit the room, leaving a hushed party behind. When she reached the door she turned though, a sad, wistful expression directed at her mother. "You know, I'm aware of the mistakes I've made Mother and I'm old enough to accept responsibility for them now. I only wish I'd been able to find the love and acceptance I needed here at home, so I wouldn't have had to go looking for them in what has turned out to be all the wrong places."

And then she left.