Hidden Talents

just checked out.”

2

    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING S ERENITY LEFT HER COTTAGE to set off through the soggy, mist-shrouded forest. She was headed for Ambrose's cabin. She wanted a few answers to some very specific questions.
    She had not paid him a visit last night after returning to Witt's End because she hadn't trusted her strange, unhappy mood. This morning she was calmer, but a frustrated anger was still burning within her.
    She didn't know which annoyed her the most, that Caleb Ventress had not turned out to be the man she'd thought he was, or that she'd misjudged him so completely.
    Serenity hated the rare occasions when her perception of others turned out to be faulty. She was accustomed to trusting her instincts.
    But she should have known better than to trust her own judgment when she dealt with a man from the mainstream establishment world, she reminded herself. She'd never really understood that world, nor had she adapted well to it during the period she'd lived in it.
    She had been born and raised in Witt's End. The tiny mountain community might strike outsiders as odd, but as far as Serenity was concerned, it was home. It was the place where she belonged. The community sheltered her and raised her when there had been no one else to take her in. She intended to give back to Witt's End what it had given her: a future.
    Now it looked like she'd have to accomplish that goal without the assistance of Ventress Ventures.
    She stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of her beaded, fringed jacket and tried to examine her emotions from an intellectual viewpoint. Maybe this was how a woman scorned always felt, she thought as she forged a path through the dripping trees.
    A woman scorned . She shuddered at the thought.
    For the first time, Serenity realized just how much she'd been attracted to Caleb. She could not deny that she'd responded instantly and unconditionally to him in a way that she had never responded to any man. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. She must have been out of her mind to get so carried away by a man who was obviously so wrong for her.
    But she knew that she had begun to fantasize about having a committed relationship with Caleb. It probably couldn't have lasted forever, of course. After all, she was from Witt's End and he was from the outside world, but perhaps they could have shared some portion of the future together.
    And, if they had both been very lucky, they might have found something that resembled what Julius Makepeace, the man whose surname she bore, had found with his friend, Bethanne.
    Serenity smiled briefly, thinking of the postcard that had been waiting for her when she got home last night.
    Dear Serenity :
    Having a wonderful time. Marriage is great. Should have done this years ago .
    Love, Julius and Bethanne
    The card had been postmarked Mazatlan, Mexico. Julius and Bethanne were on their honeymoon. After fifteen years of living together, they had decided the time had come to marry. Two weeks ago Witt's End had pulled out all the stops to give the couple a wedding celebration worthy of the event. Even Ambrose had come to the party. He had actually condescended to take a few pictures of the bride and groom, all the while making it clear that wedding photos were beneath him.
    Serenity paused briefly to get her bearings amid the trees. An eerie silence enveloped the woods this morning. The fog blanketing the mountains last night had grown heavier after dawn.
    She ducked beneath the low branches of a damp fir. It would have been stupid to have let herself get involved with a rigid, conservative, hidebound traditionalist like Caleb. The man probably wore pinstriped underwear.
    Serenity scowled. Something was wrong with that analysis, and she knew it. In her present foul mood it was tempting to categorize Caleb as inflexible, unyielding, and narrow-minded. But she sensed that was far from the whole picture.
    Her first impression of him had been deeply disturbing in its intensity. Prepared for a middle-aged corporate type with soft hands, a soft jawline, and the beginnings of a soft paunch, she'd been totally unprepared to find herself dealing with a wild beast trapped in a gleaming, stainless steel and glass cage.
    Caleb had reminded her of the griffin that hung from the chain she wore around her neck. Intriguing, different, and powerful. Not quite real, perhaps. Possibly dangerous.
    It was his eyes, gray and filled with a cool, detached watchfulness, that first alerted Serenity