That feeling was as familiar to him as the scent of beer and cigarettes had been earlier. And just as frustratingly elusive. He knew it well—but he didn’t know why.
He could make himself crazy at this rate—if he wasn’t already there.
Chapter Eight
Serena had to pull over to allow a fire truck to pass on the way home. Both she and Sam watched as the aging emergency vehicle sped past, lights flashing and siren wailing, then turned at the next intersection. “I hope that isn’t a serious emergency,” she murmured, resisting a voyeuristic impulse to follow.
“Sirens—not a sound you hear very often around here,” Sam commented.
“You won’t hear me complaining about that.”
“No desire at all for the fast-paced life of a big city?”
“I’ll leave the fast lane to my sister. My life is here.”
“Your mother worries about you, you know.”
She shot him a look, wondering just how much her chatty mother had said to him. “In what way?”
“She’s afraid you’re getting into a rut. Working too hard, playing too little. She said there are very few single people your age here, and she worries about your social life.”
“She’s more worried about her lack of grandchildren,” Serena answered dryly. “She’s the only non-grandmother in her Saturday-night dominoes group, as she loves to remind me every Sunday morning.”
Sam chuckled. “So how come you aren’t making an effort to help her out with that?” he teased.
“That takes two,” she answered with a shrug intended to disguise her sudden self-consciousness. “I haven’t found anyone I want to mix genes with. And besides, I’m not sure I’m cut out for motherhood. I’m having enough trouble being responsible for Kara’s dog.”
He laughed again. “Now you’re selling yourself short.”
She’d had enough of that subject, especially with this man. “You know, maybe I would like dessert. How does a snow cone sound to you?”
“A snow cone,” he repeated in a neutral tone that made it sound as if he’d never heard the term before. “Sounds great.”
She turned left on North Street, heading for Patty’s Polar Ice Shack, a concessions trailer that operated during summer months on a vacant lot next to the local discount store. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
“It’s, uh, been so long since I had one that I hardly remember. What’s yours?”
“Wild cherry. Sometimes I order grape. Mom always chooses orange. Kara used to try something different every time—offbeat flavors like tiger’s blood and ocean breeze and wedding cake.”
“Your sister’s always had a taste for adventure?”
Serena wrinkled her nose. “I wish she had confined it to snow cone flavors.”
“You wouldn’t really want her to stay here if she was unhappy, would you, just because she felt obligated to run the newspaper to keep your mother and you happy?”
Serena felt herself getting defensive again—as she always did when she and Sam discussed Kara. She wished she could make him understand that her irritation with her sister was based on genuine concern. Kara was destined—at least in Serena’s opinion—to end up heartbroken, penniless, disillusioned—all the things that happened to a woman who totally immersed herself in a man. She’d seen it all too many times in her law practice—women stripped of their confidence, their dignity, their savings, all because they’d trusted the wrong men. As far as Serena was concerned, Kara simply hadn’t known Pierce long enough to be sure he wasn’t using her.
Besides, she thought with a ripple of sadness as she parked in front of the concessions trailer, she missed her sister.
“I’ll have the wild cherry tonight,” she said, deciding to leave Sam’s questions about Kara unanswered. “What will you have?”
Sam studied the illuminated sign listing a dismayingly long list of flavors. “Bubble gum?” he asked quizzically.
She shuddered. “I have a feeling that flavor would be sweet enough to induce a coma in anyone over twelve.”
“I think I’ll have grape.”
“Nice, safe choice.”