“Anita.” Vena’s mind stumbled through her friend’s rambling. “I lost you at ‘peach’. Tell me what you saw.”
Anita sighed. “The so-called demonstration in your frontier town this afternoon.”
“Demonstration? You saw that?” Vena spoke through clenched teeth. “How?” Anita hated being interrupted, but the woman could digress to the point of driving a person crazy.
“I was relaxing in a tub of bubbles, and I heard a promo about some kind of protest against the police. I wasn’t paying attention until they announced the name of that town you’re in. And then I saw you—on the early news.”
Her ears buzzed. Not the national news…please. “Was it a major channel? What did they show?” She gripped the receiver until her fingers ached. A protest in a small Montana town made the news in Los Angeles. Why?
“Well, well, well,” Anita drawled, “I finally grabbed your attention.”
Vena’s gaze circled the room, searching for a clock. “What time is it there?”
“Are you all right, Vena? You sound funny.”
“The phone woke me, and I can’t see a clock from here.” Through the phone, Vena heard the muffled crinkle of shuffled papers. She visualized Anita calling from the desk in her apartment that was usually buried under a disarray of research material.
“Ah, there’s the clock. It’s nine-thirty-eight here.”
Running a hand over her face, Vena added the hour difference. How could she have slept for three hours? Oh, jeez, where was Finn?
“Are you still there? I need details. Maybe I’ll use a similar situation in one of my stories.”
Why did Anita sound so exited? “I’ll tell you later.” If her protest made the news, the intent was to damage Finn’s career. “What else was in the news bit?”
“The piece was really very short, and I’ve told you everything.” Anita chuckled. “Hey, how did you get the old ladies to carry the signs? They looked so authentic.”
“They volunteered. Did the spot show only me and the protest?”
“So who’s the hunk, and what’s this juicy rumor about an affair with a political hopeful? About time you had a love life. Go, Vena.”
Vena sagged against the wall. That’s the slant the piece had been given. She had to find Finnian and warn him. He’d left the inn thinking he only had to explain away the ‘street walker’ misunderstanding. Dealing with the illicit affair issue would take more diplomacy.
She slid to the floor, burying her face on her knees. “How did an innocent walk through a small Montana town end up ruining the potential political career of a close friend?”
“I prefer the TV version. The one that proclaims you’ve finally added a little spice to your dating life. You know, ‘bam’, like that famous chef.”
“Anita.”
A deep sigh came through the telephone. “The hunk’s just a close friend. How close?”
“Stop.” This speculation was not helping. She had to talk with Finn.
“Don’t snap off my head.”
How she missed discussing her problems with her best friend. Her fingers scrubbed at her burning eyes. “If you only knew what I’ve been through the last couple days.”
“So fill me in. Please. Anything to distract me from that blinking cursor on my monitor.”
Ten minutes later, Vena ran out of details. “Anita, you would not believe how different this town is. People are worried about me because I’m Nana Gwen’s granddaughter, and for no other reason.” She sighed.
“And you like that?”
“Do I?” Vena straightened. “Being here does have its down side. Like when I got out of jail, and the Gray Ladies—”
“Out of jail? Back up. The report didn’t mention an arrest.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit it’s true.” She sucked in a breath, dread heavy in the pit of her stomach. “Do you think Nick saw this? Oh no, how will this look to the museum board?”
“Not everyone watches the same news channel.” Anita laughed. “A few days out of my sight and you’ve changed into this wild person. What were you in for?”
“Resisting arrest, mostly.” Vena blew the hair off her forehead. “Speaking of that, Anita, I’ve got to find Finn and warn him.”
“Do not hang up. Not before I hear the whole story.”
“Sorry. I’ll call tomorrow, once this whole thing settles down. Bye.” Being rude wasn’t like her but, at the moment, talking with Finn was more important.
The minute she hung up, the phone rang again. Vena debated about answering but didn’t have anything more to say to Anita. She reached behind the table and turned off the ringer, certain her friend would forgive her eventually.
Now, to find Finn. After searching the entire house, she leaned against the upstairs banister. Searching here was a waste of her energy. Based on his silent reaction to the news, she figured he’d gotten as far away as he could.
Her stomach growled, reminding her of this morning’s dubious remedy for a hangover. For the first time today, she was really hungry, and wondered what she’d find in the refrigerator. Taking the main staircase, she shot a glance out the front window to check for his truck. The driveway was empty.
Well, he had to come home sometime.
Within minutes, preparations for an avocado and tomato sandwich lay spread over the counter. As Vena reached into the drawer for a knife, the doorbell rang, and she stilled. Finn wouldn’t ring the bell, and she wanted to talk to no one else tonight. Closing her ears, she ignored it and continued with her supper preparation.
The bell pealed again…and again. Until her obligation to Finn and the Quaid family for allowing her to stay at The Shamrocks took over. Dragging her feet, Vena padded down the hallway to the front door and peeked through the gathered lace covering the narrow side window. Dread pinched her stomach. Biting back a groan, she smacked her forehead against the wall.
The perfect finale to an awful day. With a jerk, she yanked open the door and forced a smile. “Hello, Thia. What brings you here?”
Elthia Fenton Madison, looking gorgeous with perfect makeup and every bleached hair in place, breezed into the entryway wearing a practiced smile. She adjusted the front hem of her sleek power suit jacket and brushed a speck of lint off her sleeve. “Well, well, baby sis…” Pausing, she leaned close and kissed the air near each of Vena’s cheeks. She walked farther into the house, craning her neck in every direction.
Vena re-rolled one sleeve of her T-shirt and tucked the hem into the belt of her denim skirt. The passage of time hadn’t changed much—she still felt like a rough tomboy next to her sister’s dainty perfection.
Turning, Thia ran a narrowed gaze over Vena’s appearance. “Good God, Elvena, you look like a train hit you.”
Really? Vena grabbed the side seam of her skirt to keep her hand from taming her tousled hair. She refused to give Thia the satisfaction.
“One sight of the evening news, and I packed a bag to head straight here.” Thia stepped closer and waved a perfectly manicured hand in her direction. “I came, of course, to salvage the absolute wreck you’ve made of poor Finnian’s life.”
Vena’s mind flashed with the memories of being bossed around by Thia through their growing years. She’d hated being told what to wear, how to comb her hair, how to act and, especially, who to be seen with. Thia had not liked Moira Quaid as Vena’s best friend and never missed an opportunity to talk down Moira or her family. Several months after Thia had been dating Finnian, Vena had endured enough criticism and turned on her older sister.
“You’re saying Moira isn’t good enough to be my friend?” she’d asked.
Thia flipped her long blond hair over a shoulder and laughed. “Of course, she’s not. Her looks are passable but she has no natural charm or grace. And look at her family—her father works tearing apart houses, for heaven’s sakes.”
Vena ground her teeth. “She’s not my friend because of those things. I don’t believe you pick your friends like a new swea
ter or this week’s shade of nail polish. Friends come together because of who they are…you know, inside.”
“That’s just plain stupid. Friends have to serve a purpose. Being her friend won’t get you anywhere in this world.”
Taking a deep breath, Vena faced her sister. “If Moira’s not good enough to be my friend, tell me why you’re dating her oldest brother. They’re from the same family.”
Thia arched an eyebrow and looked down her nose at Vena. “That’s entirely different. He’s the president of the debate team and, therefore, the only guy in this hick town worthy enough to date me.”
Thia’s calculating answer felt as cold in the recollection as it had in the telling. That was the day Vena’s naive admiration for her sister shrank to simple tolerance. Vena didn’t pretend to agree with or understand their vast differences. From that day forward, she’d only accepted the unchangeable fact they shared the same last name.
Unclenching her fists, Vena wiggled her fingers to release the tension. As usual around her sister, her psyche reverted to her five-year-old self, and her mental capabilities took a hike, leaving her far behind and scrambling to catch up. She’d hoped time would have cured this problem. No such luck.
“Hello?” Thia snapped her fingers in front of Vena’s face. “Anyone home? Really, Vena, if you don’t have anything intelligent to say, at least point me in Finnian’s direction. The way I see this disaster, there’s no time to lose.”
The fog in Vena’s brain cleared. Finn. “I don’t know where he is. Too bad, guess you’re out of luck.” She stepped forward and grabbed Thia’s arm, turning her toward the door. “You’ll just have to come back tomorrow. Are you booked over at The Shelby Arms or are your rooms out in Havre?” Vena knew her sister’s tastes tolerated only quality hotels, those with every possible luxury known to the rich and frivolous.
Thia planted her spiked heels.
Vena skidded to a stop.
“Tsk, tsk, Vena, you’ve misunderstood, as usual. I must talk to poor Finnian tonight. Damage control starts now.” She spun, and her heels clicked the length of the entry hall and back. Counting off items with one long fingernail against the opposite fingers, she spoke. “We’ll have his secretary issue a press release to dilute the inflammatory statements from this afternoon’s interview.” Click, click, click, turn. “Whoever told that man he knew how to handle a nosy reporter? There will be demographics to gather, issues to research, strategy sessions…”
Click, click, tap, tap, turn. “He’ll need a whole new appearance, more professional.” She turned on Vena and glared. “Don’t you know a political candidate should never be seen in anything less casual than slacks and sport coat?”
Vena gulped. “I-I’m s-sorry, I-I—” What am I apologizing for? “What Finn wears is not my business. And I doubt he expected to give an interview when he drove me to the rally.”
“That doesn’t really matter.” With a single wave of her hand, Thia dismissed her. “What matters is what I do from now on. He’ll need a new haircut. The shot I saw on television made him seem dated. Yech.” Her shoulders shook.
Vena silently disagreed. He’d looked great, especially when he’d moved through the crowd and guided her to the safety of the truck. Give her a rough-around-the-edges hero any day as long as he was there when she needed him.
Thia stamped a high-heeled foot. “Vena, where is your mind? Your expression keeps going blank, and you get a stupid smile. I’m certain you’re not listening.”
How she hated being chastised by Thia. Vena sighed. “Of course I’m listening.”
“What did I just say?” Her green eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms.
“You don’t approve of Finn’s clothes or the length of his hair.”
Thia clapped her hands together. “I knew you weren’t listening. That was several statements back.”
“Sorry, Thia, what were you saying?”
“I said…” She narrowed her gaze.
Vena focused on her sister with wide-open eyes and what she hoped was an attentive expression.
“With all the planning we’ll need to do, I have to stay here.”
“Here?” Her throat dried in an instant. Vena squeaked and spread her hands. “Where here?”
“The Shamrocks, of course. Where is your mind tonight?”
“You can’t stay here.” Her stomach cramped. How could Vena hope to deepen her relationship with Finn if Thia, a living reminder of his younger days and their high school romance, was under the same roof?
A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. “Why not?”
“Finn’s renovating and all the rooms are a mess.”
“I—and probably all of Montana—know you’re staying here.”
Vena faked a casual laugh. “Oh, that’s because I badger—I mean, I’m not as fussy—I mean…” She was grasping now but she had to get her way. Just this once. “The Shamrocks isn’t up to your usual high standards. There’s no room service, no spas, no phones in the rooms.” She peeked at Thia’s expression to see if she was relenting. Nothing.
So she hit her with what she hoped would be the final deciding factor. “Only one bathroom is working and you’d have to share it. With two other people.” She tried to make the situation sound impossible.
Deep in thought, Thia tapped a pointed shoe in time with an acrylic fingernail on her perfectly capped front teeth.
Vena’s hopes rose. She tried to remember where the phone book was to look up whichever hotel Thia chose. Hell, she’d even chauffeur Thia the ten or twenty miles there and Sherpa her bags.
“I’ll set aside my standards and sacrifice for the good of Finnian’s campaign. I can do that.” Thia’s face was all smiles. “Which room is mine?”
One last effort. She forced a syrupy tone. “I’m concerned about your comfort. At this stage, being here is almost like roughing it. You’ll be more comfortable somewhere else.”
“The Shamrocks will suffice. We have to gather our resources and strike back immediately. I don’t want to lose precious time driving back and forth from another city.”
At Thia’s tone, hope drained from Vena’s spirit, and her shoulders slumped. “Come upstairs and pick a room. I’ll warn you, though, each one is in the midst of renovation—painting, papering, or sanding. Furniture has to be moved.”
Thia strode to the foot of the stairs.
Vena tagged behind, dreading every step she took.
On the fourth step up, Thia turned, narrowed her gaze at the luggage still on the entry floor, and then stared at Vena. “You don’t expect me to choose a room and carry my luggage, do you?”
Well, her sister’s self-centered attitude hadn’t changed over the years. “No, silly me. I’ll meet you up there.”
Vena walked to the matching leather suitcase, carry-on, and overnight bag and lifted them, mumbling to herself, “Once a selfish person, always a selfish person.” She cursed the manners drilled into her by Nana Gwen, and she cursed her ingrained habit of letting Thia have her way to avoid conflict.
Most of all, she cursed herself for opening her big mouth. If she’d never mentioned her troubles over writing the costume vignettes to Moira, she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this mess. Discouragement weighing her steps, she shuffled up the stairs and across the landing, ignoring the content of Thia’s monologue.
Thia exited the last room on the end. “You are such a silly girl, Vena. This room is in great condition and will do just fine.”
Her jaw clenched and her chest tightened. “That’s mine.”
“Oh.” Thia glanced over her shoulder and back at Vena. She walked two steps to the doorway and gestured with a hand. “You won’t take long to gather your things and switch rooms.”
Vena dumped the bags at her sister’s feet, leaned close, and spoke with precision. “This room is mine. My things are already there. See?” She extended a finger at each item as she named it. “My tablet, my research materials, my pink fuzzy slippers at the side of the bed. You
get it?” Her insides quivered, and she thumped a hand flat on her chest. “My room. And you can’t have it. Go choose another one.”
From downstairs came the sound of a door slamming and footsteps approaching the base of the stairs. “Hey, Vena, whose car’s out front?” Finn’s voice got louder as he climbed the stairs. “Were you just yelling at someone?”
Thia smirked at Vena, fluffed her hair, and straightened her jacket, smoothing it over her trim waist and hips. She pasted a beguiling smile on her face, stepped around the luggage, and sashayed across the landing with arms outstretched. “Finnian, darling. I’ve come to your rescue.”
Vena watched Finn’s expression change from confused, to questioning, to appreciative as Thia approached.
He glanced at Vena for a second and then, almost hypnotically, switched his gaze back to Thia’s seductive pose.
“Don’t you have a hug for an old friend?” Without waiting for his answer, Thia stepped close and embraced Finn, pressing her curves against him. She kissed him right on the lips and then made a show of wiping off the lipstick with her thumb.
If she hadn’t seen her sister’s routine before, Vena might have been angry. This was just Thia up to her tricks. She’d used this overfriendly act to win votes for her then-husband, Thad Madison, during his campaign for Colorado state senator.
What Vena couldn’t believe was the dopey glaze in Finn’s eyes. Her chest tightened. Couldn’t the man see through her sister’s phony act?
“What was the noise about?” Finn pulled Thia’s arms from around his neck and stepped away, into neutral territory.
“She wants—” Vena started.
“She won’t—” Thia began.
Aiming for the high ground, Vena waved a hand for Thia to continue.
Thia batted her eyelashes and pouted. “I saw your interview on television and knew I was the one to salvage your career. So I threw a few things in a suitcase and jumped into my car. First, Vena tried to kick me out into the dark night—” She broke eye contact with Finn and looked at the floor.
Vena rolled her eyes at Finn. Thia was a better actress than she remembered.
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