Rekindled Dreams (21 page)

“Just as I thought. You’re good for him. He’s more self-assured since I saw him last. He knows what he wants, and he’s reaching for it.” Her glossy lips spread into a smile. “I wish you both luck.”

Vena listened for sarcasm in her sister’s words and didn’t hear any. “We don’t have any plans. Just one day at a time for now.” How she wished to announce something more substantial than their pretend engagement.

****

“Quaid, are you listening?” Irritation filled James Burtell’s gruff voice. “You have to introduce your platform into every conversation this evening.”

Finn rubbed his chin and blinked hard. He hadn’t been listening—he’d been worrying about Vena and how she was doing. Thoughts of her were never far from his mind these days. A welcome distraction from the pesky details of the campaign. “Sorry, James. We’ve hit this pretty hard for the past hour. I’m solid on what to say.” He picked up a mug, sipped the dregs of cold coffee, and grimaced. “Any fresh coffee?”

Burtell jerked his head at an assistant sitting at the end of the conference room table. “Evans, coffee.”

The gawky young man scrambled to his feet, upsetting a file folder on the table. He hesitated, shooting quick glances between the strewn papers and
Burtell, and then fled to the hallway.

Finn wondered if he’d ever been that eager to please. The kid seemed more like a high school student than a college political science intern.

Burtell laid his hands on the table and leaned forward. “So, tonight’s your big night.”

“That it is.” Finn stood and stretched to ease his tight back muscles. “If I haven’t mentioned it, thanks for your efforts on my behalf. I know attending tonight took some rearrangement of your calendar.”

“All part of the game,” Burtell scoffed. “This was a brilliant idea, Quaid. Piggybacking this gathering on the Cattlemen Association’s meeting is pure genius. The broadest possible exposure for your candidacy for the least expense. An inspiration. Keep those thoughts coming.”

“Actually, the idea was Vena’s.”

“That woman who dresses funny? She’s got some political savvy.” James pulled a chair close and sat, his stare intent. “That the gal you’re going to marry?”

He grinned. “Yeah, she’s the one.” A picture of Vena’s wide smile and bouncy curls flashed in his mind. A warm glow washed through his heart as he remembered their time together over the past few days. The more details they’d shared about their lives, the more he’d wanted to know. And the more he’d learned about her fears and dreams, the more he wanted to protect her.

This must be love. Spending the rest of his life with anyone but Vena was unimaginable. At that thought, he braced for the usual long-term commitment panic to hit.

Nothing.

His subconscious must have been contemplating the idea of marriage to Vena for a while and he hadn’t realized it. Why else could this feel so right? A sense of purpose and calm washed through him. One decision made.

“Good. I’m glad you’re following the group’s recommendation. We are certain the Montana populace wants a stable, married man.”
Burtell’s voice gained speed. “Too much in the news lately about divorce and straying husbands. To swing the pendulum the other way, we need one who will demonstrate a respectable family image.”

How clinical. Finn leaned forward in his chair. “But that’s not why—”

The assistant reentered the room. “Here’s the coffee. Could I interrupt just a minute? Mr. Burtell, you have a couple phone messages.”

“Hold on a minute.” Finn waved away the assistant and turned to his supporter. “James, you don’t understand—”

“Damn.” James exploded, crumpling the paper slips in his hand. “Can’t they make a simple decision without me? Sorry, Finn, I’ve got to return these calls before my office closes. We’ll talk later.”

****

Thia pulled a carnation from the back of the floral centerpiece, broke off the stem, and turned to Vena. “This will look sweet on your dress.”

Vena wrinkled her nose. The flower would add insult to injury. She hated the dress
Thia had chosen, and this final touch would make her appear too much like her mother. “A pink carnation? I don’t know, Thia. This really isn’t my idea of—”

“Remember, it’s not your idea that counts. Think about what will look good for
Finnian’s public. That’s what matters.”

Vena pulled at the belt cinching her waist and yearned for her beloved loose-fitting dresses. She hated everything about tonight, from the flower and the dress to the public image. Most of all, she hated the prospect of making idle conversation with strangers for the next two hours. What could she possibly have to say to these people?

This ordeal was only for Finn—and their future. Tonight was her last chance to prove she could be involved in social events for his campaign and not disgrace him. The cocktail party would work. As long as her involvement meant remaining on the periphery and away from the spotlight, she believed she had a chance of success.

“
Thia, promise you’re my backup? If I’m trapped, rescue me.” She spun, infusing her gaze with pleading. “Better yet, let me stay back with the caterers.”

“Don’t be silly, Vena. All you have to do is nod, smile, and speak in vowels.”

“What?”

“You’d be surprised how far you can go wi
th answering just by saying ‘Oh’ or ‘Ah’. I’m amazed men haven’t caught on to this female conversational trick. Believe me, it works all the time.”

Vena took a deep breath. “If you say so…”

Thia flung out her arm in a wide arc. “Well, what do you think of the room?”

A dozen tables, each with a complimentary but unique centerpiece, dotted the back half of the room. Bartenders arranged bottles and stacked glasses behind a bar along the left wall. Next to the entrance door stood a table flanked by red, white and blue helium balloons and covered with leaflets, buttons, and bumper stickers bearing Finn’s smiling face.

Thia believed Finn would love this surprise.

Vena had her doubts because the bombardment of
Finnian Quaid everywhere was imposing. “Everything looks great.” She wished she could muster more enthusiasm. Every time she thought of Finn campaigning for political office, her stomach knotted. If he made that choice, they had no future together.

“I considered bringing in a podium but decided against it. That would have spoiled the informal atmosphere.”
Thia turned, her finger tapping her lips. “What do you think?”

The uncertainty in her sister’s voice surprised Vena. “You’ve done a wonderful job. Every detail has been covered, and the room is perfect.”

Thia smiled and squeezed Vena’s hand. “Thanks. I needed that.” She glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes. I’ve got to check on the caterers, give instructions to the bartenders, contact the—” Her gaze narrowed and focused like a laser toward the back of the room. “What’s he doing here?”

Vena glanced over her shoulder and spotted Jared. Dressed in a suit that accented the breadth of his shoulders, he stood out among the uniformed wait staff. The man cleaned up well. “I’m sure Finn invited him.”

“I don’t know why. What can that man add to this gathering?”

“A friendly face and a bit of support. I’m sure that’s why Finn wanted him here. Plus, you can’t deny his contacts helped with the preparation. Calm down.” Vena reached out a hand to pat
Thia’s arm and felt her rigid muscles. “Let me check with the caterers. I overheard the original arrangements. This is great, Thia, and I know it’ll be a success.” In a spontaneous moment of shared insecurity, she hugged her sister before setting off to find the caterer. How ironic to wish her sister well on a venture that could ultimately ruin her own chances for happiness.

Tonight might be the ultim
ate test of her acting ability.

IF MEASURED BY THE
number of handshakes, the party was a success. Finn shook yet another rancher’s hand and tried to match the man’s name with the pertinent facts Burtell had pummeled into his memory. Blevins—south of Yellowstone, mid-size acreage, prime concern was water rights.

The party was only fifteen minutes old, but he knew the smile stretched across his lips looked mechanical, and his hand ached.

He scanned the room full of Stetson and Rossinol hats for Vena while still maintaining a thread of the group’s conversation. Every time he searched, he saw Thia in her shimmery red dress—welcoming arrivals, introducing herself to those she hadn’t met—always smiling and laughing.

But where was Vena? If he was feeling strained by the crowd, he feared Vena would be ready to bolt.

He wanted her by his side so he could whisper words of encouragement and just touch her. From her, he could get assurance he wasn’t making a fool of himself. All he wanted to hear was her voice, to have her soft tones soothe his nerves.

“Sorry, what was that?” Finn snapped his thoughts back to the man before him. He focused on the man’s face as his brain searched for his name. Not Evans, not
Beeman…Blevins. “Yes, I am in favor of the proposed dam on the—”

A woman entered his line of vision, paused, and then moved straight toward him. The woman wore a plain navy dress with a stupid little white collar and a pink flower pinned to the front. The legs below the knee length hem were spectacular, and utterly recognizable.

His gaze jerked back to the woman’s face. Pain stabbed his chest. What had she done to herself? A Vena different than he’d ever known stood before him, her mouth twisted into a hesitant smile. His thoughts reeled at her transformation. He continued his conversation as best he could. This woman was a stranger. Someone he would have passed on the street without a second glance.

Where was Vena’s spark, the glint in her eye, the sass in her smile?

Her closeness and the scent of her familiar perfume excited him. Vena could be at his side as a politician’s…friend? Lover? Wife? He had to touch her. Surreptitiously, he edged his shoe sideways against the side of her navy pump. They’d made a connection, and now he could relax.

Vena nudged him back, hard.

His gaze flicked to her face, and his stomach clenched. A frozen smile and narrowed eyes. He glanced around the group of a half dozen men, all similarly dressed in mail-order suits with bolo ties. What had he missed? His gaze drifted back to Vena.

Her hazel eyes flashed in the direction of the man monopolizing the conversation and back.

When he zeroed in on the conversation, he understood her non-verbal messages. “I have to disagree there, Mr. Chambers.” Finn felt several heads swing in his direction. The fact that Alex Chambers owned the largest grazing acreage in the state persuaded most people into agreement. But this topic was too dear to Finn’s heart to remain silent. “That section of Helena dates back to the earliest settlement of the territory. The buildings are an integral part of Montana’s pioneer history.”

“Hogwash.” Mr. Chambers scoffed. “Can’t let weak-hearted sentiment overrule sound business decisions. Those people have been dead for a hundred years, and the land’s not earning out its potential.”

Finn felt Vena nudge his foot again. If he glanced in her direction, he knew what message her gaze would telegraph.

“We have to look to the future.
” Chambers rocked on his boot heels. “Razing those dilapidated shacks to make room for rent-generating offices—”

Vena stomped her heel on his left toe and leaned hard. Her gaze flashed fire, and she jerked her head in Chambers’ direction.

“Ow. Uh, with all due respect.” Finn cleared his throat. He was digging himself in deeper than Burtell had intended on this very topic, but he couldn’t stop himself. Plus, Thia had counseled him on keeping the conversation light and friendly. “Who determines the land’s potential?”

Mr. Chambers paused and surveyed the immediate crowd. “I say if land’s not turning a buck, it’s only because someone’s too weak to take an aggressive stand.”

At the same moment Finn heard a whoosh of expelled air, the pressure on his foot eased. He braced himself for the release of Hurricane Vena.

“D-do you j-judge everything by dollars and cents?” Her gaze darted to the floor and then connected with his.

Irritation clenched his jaw. He hated seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. She shouldn’t have to censor her words for fear of hurting his career. He scanned the nearby groups to detect how far this ‘discussion’ was broadcasting. Then, he stopped himself. Turning back to Vena, he winked, hoping she’d be herself.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed.

He dropped his chin in approval and inclined his head in Chambers’ direction.

“Where’s your heart…sir?” Her voice quivered, but gained confidence. “What about the emotional value of those buildings?” Her head turned to meet the listeners’ gazes. “They are a physical reminder of our past and should be refurbished to their original splendor and displayed with state pride.”

Finn noticed several men nodding. Her passion for her profession filled her words with sincerity. She had them in the palm of her hand.

“Look at this as a tribute,” she spoke in distinct tones, “a showing of respect from today’s Montanan, commemorating the struggles of the people who formed the state. A state, I may remind you, that has allowed you all to become very rich men.”

Chambers choked on his drink and glared. “What do you mean by that, missy? Just who are you to speak to me like that?”

Panic etched in her face, Vena jerked, her entire body going stiff.

How he wished he could touch her, to relay his support. “Vena, explain your perspective on historical restorations.”

A wan smile crossed her lips before she spoke. “I’m a native Montanan, born and raised in Dry Creek, an area proud of its pioneer heritage.”

Good start, Finn silently cheered.

Chambers’ gaze traced the circle of men and scoffed. “And why would a pretty little thing like you want to worry herself about such dry old business matters?”

“Well, I work as a curator’s assistant for a California museum—”

“You represent a California museum…” Confidence puffing out his chest, Chambers pressed the point. “And yet you’re here in Montana talking about saving some old buildings. I find that notion very interesting. Did Quaid bring you up here to block my plans? Are you part of his entourage?”

“Canapés, anyone?” Thia extended a tray of hors d’oeuvres into the circle of men, interrupting the conversation. “Gentlemen, please grab a crab puff while they last. They’re yummy. Everyone enjoying this little get-together?” She smiled, including each man in her question.

From around the circle, several men mumbled answers.

“Alex Chambers, you old scamp.” Thia motioned for a waitress to bring over another tray and handed off her empty one. Linking her arm with his, she steered him away. “Tell me what you and Beulah have been doing lately? How many grandkids do you have now?” As the two moved through the crowd, she bent to listen to the stout man’s response, all the while sending sideways glares at Vena.

Vena leaned over and whispered, “Finn, I’m so sorry for this mess. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Vena.” Finn shook his head. “I got a kick out of seeing Chambers taken down a peg. What do you—?”

“What was that scene about?” James
Burtell’s whisper rasped.

Finn pitched his voice low enough not to carry. “Chambers thought he had a rapt audience and was milking the crowd for support of his pet project.”

“Yeah, I heard the last bit from across the room. And I saw how that blonde firecracker stepped in and saved your butt. That’s exactly the kind of political know-how and public presence you need by your side. You’ve made a wise choice, Finn.” He slapped Finn on the shoulder.

Blonde firecracker?
Finn fought to understand. How could James be mistaken? Sure, there was a sisterly resemblance.
Didn’t I mention Vena by name in our discussions?
“James, you don’t think—”

“A true team player.”
Burtell waved a hand. “And quite a looker. She’ll be perfect for your career.”

Feeling Vena stiffen at his elbow pulled Finn’s attention. He saw her shake her head at the offer of more food, and then sucked in his breath when she glanced his way. Her face was contorted with a fake smile, and her tortured gaze clung to his for a moment.

“Excuse me.” She turned and murmured, “I must go check with the caterer.”

Finn reached out a staying hand. “Vena, wait.” He watched as she evaded his grasp and slipped away. Irritation shot through his body, and he whirled. “
Burtell, you ass. You’ve confused her with Thia, my campaign manager.”

Burtell
shook his head and tossed back a slug of his whisky. “Not the blonde one, huh? Too bad.”

His breaths wheezed in and out of his throat. “Your insensitive comments hurt the woman I love.”

“Whoever she is, bring her over here. Time for this crowd to see you as a solid, almost-married citizen.”

Indignation burning his throat, Finn spoke through clenched teeth. “She…Vena…just left. Actually, James, you’ve already met her. Remember the petite woman you first saw at The Shamrocks that stormy day?
The one in the dance hall outfit?”

“The nutcase?” James’ jaw dropped. “The one you complained about, who created the bad press with the police?
You’re not serious.”

“Damn right, I’m serious. Get this straight,
Burtell. The next time you see her, you make sure you apologize for your overactive mouth.” He spun on his heel and walked in the direction Vena had gone. One glance around the crowd told him she’d definitely left the room. He had to find her and set things right.

****

Water swished behind Vena, and she searched her purse for a tissue. She leaned toward the mirror and blotted at her running mascara. How blind she’d been. The solution was so perfect and so obvious. Suddenly, the memory of her own words flashed in her mind, “You’ve got the wrong Fenton sister. Thia is the one you need.” Her exact words to Finn the first time he’d mentioned running for office.

With a stupid joke, she’d predicted this outcome on her second day back in town. If she’d listened to herself, her heart might still be in one piece. She’d known all along she’d be a millstone around Finn’s neck. She was not cut out for public life—the last half hour proved that.

A red-haired woman in a tan suit stood in front of an adjacent mirror. Their gazes met for a moment in the mirror before Vena fumbled for a lipstick. She removed several items from her purse and placed them on the shelf in front of her.

“Didn’t I just see you in that group with the candidate?”

Vena nodded, needing to correct the woman. “Potential candidate.”

“Of course.” The woman laughed, turned her head from side to side as she checked her hair. “I overheard a little of what you said about historic buildings. I feel the same way about those old places. May I compliment you on how well you handled the subject?”

“Thanks.” Vena appreciated the comment even if she didn’t feel she deserved it.

“Are you really a curator from California?”

“Yes, from Los Angeles.” Vena concentrated on carefully outlining her lips. “I’m just here on vacation.”

“Really?” The woman dabbed powder on her nose and chin. “I’m surprised to hear you admit that.”

Admit?
Her skin prickled. “Why?” The word was out before Vena could think.

“Sounded like you and Quaid were working as a tag team. You break the ice, and he performs the
clean up.”

Heart in her throat, Vena turned and stared. “I was stating a personal opinion which Mr. Quaid happens to share.”

“Ms. Fenton.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Rachel Morrison, MROC-Channel Nine news.” She dug a small tape recorder from her shoulder bag and held it toward Vena. “About the comment you made inferring the state making Mr. Chambers a wealthy man. Are you insinuating he’s taking kickbacks from the state of Montana?”

What had her naiveté gotten her into? Panic threatened to cut off her air. With clumsy movements, Vena gathered her personal items from the shelf.

“You seemed chummy with the potential candidate at the reception.” Rachel pressed her point. “What’s the real story on you and Finnian?”

Vena jammed her toiletries into the clutch purse
Thia had given her. “M-Mr. Quaid and I are childhood f-friends—”

“You sound upset. Are my questions hitting too close to home?” The redhead chuckled. “You know, you can drop the ‘Mr.’ bit. I know you two are more than acquaintances.”

How to respond
? She had no experience thinking up spontaneous, politically correct responses. Behind her, the door swooshed open. The clatter of dishes and the mumble of conversation sounded in the distance.

Rachel moved closer, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I saw the news clip on the Dry Creek demonstration, and the flimsy response Quaid had to my colleague’s question about your relationship. You can tell me, has your wedding date been set to coincide with the election?”