Rekindled Dreams

by Carroll-Bradd, Linda

  “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?”

  Opening her mouth to respond, Vena’s thoughts froze. Wedding? This woman actually thought Finn intended to marry her?

  “There you are.” Thia’s breezy voice belied the staccato of her angry footsteps. She fluffed her hair and met Vena’s gaze in the mirror, jerking her head. “Someone’s asking for you, Vena.”

  Rachel stepped back and stared to the side. “Excuse me, the lady and I were talking.”

  Thia moved to place herself between the two women and extended her hand. “Yes, Ms. Morrison, I heard your ‘conversation’. That’s why I wanted to introduce myself.”

  Vena saw the reflection of her sister’s shark-like smile and recognized the take-charge tone in Thia’s voice. She moved to escape, silently blessing her sister’s timing.

  “I’m Thia Fenton Madison, Mr. Quaid’s campaign manager. All public statements regarding Mr. Quaid’s political and personal life will come from my office.” Her voice quieted. “Is your question really important enough to miss a great party? I’m sure you can wait for tomorrow’s press release.”

  As the door closed behind her, Vena barely heard the last comment. She needed quiet and fresh air to settle her thoughts. Striding away from the hotel’s crowded conference rooms, she stopped at a directory, then moved off in a different direction. Once outside, she wandered through the small garden, grateful for a few solitary moments.

  The invasion of that reporter proved one final point. She had to accept facts—her home, job, and friends were in California. She brought only disaster to Finn’s world here in Montana. Quickly, she wiped away moisture from the corners of her eyes. “So be it.”

  ****

  Finn chuckled at the sight of Vena strolling through the garden, talking to herself. Amazed that several days ago the same action had him concerned for her mental stability, now he welcomed it as just a part of her personality. “Talking to yourself again, Vena?”

  She flinched then relaxed as he stepped into the moonlight. “Just setting myself straight. Finn, I’m so sorry about that tirade with Mr. Chambers. Did Thia smooth it over?”

  Long strides moved him closer, and he held up a hand. “Don’t worry.”

  “Let me say this,” her words tumbled out, “I promise it won’t happen again. I’ve learned my lesson about expressing my opinions at a political gathering. Or, for that matter, in the ladies’ room.”

  Uh-oh. The hard-to-follow conversations had started again. “What?”

  “Nothing. Was it a total disaster? Was Mr. Burtell—” As shock covered her features, she gulped back the rest of the sentence.

  He hated seeing pain on her beautiful face. Even more so when he knew he was partially to blame. When he first realized his feelings, he should have been upfront with James.

  Could he really put his finger on the moment he knew he was in love? Had it been when they’d worked on the repairs together or dressed in the vintage clothes for her museum project? No, they were just getting to know each other then. Could have been when he stepped in at the demonstration, or when they made love, or when she worked past her fear of public speaking to be by his side tonight? He knew attending this event presented a major obstacle but she’d handled it fine.

  “Tonight was harder than I imagined. Look at me.” She waved her hands in front of her body. “Don’t I look like my mother? I hate this outfit and especially this…thing.” She unbuckled her belt, pulled it through the dress loops, and swung it in circles at her side before letting it fly. “Ah, that feels great.”

  Finn’s gaze followed the path of the flying belt. “Hey, won’t you need that later?”

  “Never again.” She took a deep breath and turned, eyes shining. “Didn’t Thia do a great job with the party? Did you notice how at ease she was mixing with the crowd? I especially admire her ability to talk with so many different characters.”

  Unease crept over his skin. Why was he getting a sales pitch on Thia’s attributes? “Vena? What’s up?”

  She paced a few feet away, pivoted, and stalked back, punctuating her words with wild hand movements. “Do you know that after I left the gathering, a reporter cornered me in the ladies’ room? In the restroom, of all places.”

  He cupped her shoulders, stopping her in front of him. “What?” His gaze traveled quickly over her body, checking for injuries. “Are you okay?”

  “Just mad. She was a Ms. Morrison from MROC news. Ever heard of her?”

  “No.” He told himself to breathe again to calm his blood. Not knowing why she was upset didn’t inform him on what battle was coming.

  “Well, she knew who I am. She sure peppered me with loads of questions about Chambers and the police demonstration. And she knew about us. She actually accused me of being a shill for your political platform. Then Thia swooped in”—her hand moved in the imitation of an airplane—“released me from that woman’s clutches, and charmed her into returning to the party.” She ducked her chin, and her last words were spoken barely above a whisper. “Thia’s your perfect partner in this campaign.”

  Now he knew what he was battling, he relaxed. “No, she isn’t. Vena—”

  “Think of all the expertise she can share. Back in Colorado when Thad was running, she organized—”

  “Elfie.” Not wanting to listen to another of Thia’s accomplishments, he forced a commanding note into his voice.

  Her body went limp, and her hands still hung at her sides.

  “Come sit with me.” He grasped her elbow and started toward a wooden bench.

  “I can’t.” She yanked her arm and pulled away. “First, I have to tell you my decision.”

  That sounded ominous, but his determination took over. “No, it’s my turn.” He placed hands on her shoulders and pressed until she sat. “Granted, this is not the gazebo at The Shamrocks. Sounds like tonight has been important for both of us. You were wonderful in there. Don’t shake your head. I thought you were great.” He reached out and wrapped his hands around hers. “I loved the way you stood up to Chambers and put him on the defensive. Too bad we didn’t figure out why he reacted so strongly.”

  “So, you spotted that, too. Ms. Morrison said something about him receiving state kickbacks.” She shifted on the bench. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes, but I don’t care.” His thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

  “But you have to.” She jumped up and faced him. “Finn, you need to keep up on
these things. These kickbacks could become an important campaign issue.”

  “For someone else.” He captured her hand and guided her back to the bench. “There’s not going to be a campaign. At least, not for me.”

  “Maybe, Thia could put out some—” Her words choked off and then she whispered, “What did you say?”

  He waited until her gaze met his. “I can’t consider running for office if it causes this much trouble.”

  “Aren’t you used to the publicity and excitement?” Her brows wrinkled.

  “I’m not talking about that. Publicity I can handle. The stress of a hectic schedule I’m used to. I’m talking about how this affects you.” He swallowed past the returning irritation. “You were accosted in the restroom, for God’s sake. That’s a huge invasion of privacy. How did you feel?”

  She averted her gaze and fiddled with the hem of her dress.

  He hooked a finger on her chin and lifted her face until he could see her eyes. “How did you feel?”

  Her lips pressed into a tight line.

  The fact she wouldn’t answer told him everything, but he needed to hear her words. “Talk to me, please.”

  “I felt a little trapped. But I could learn to be tougher.”

  “I don’t want you to learn that.” He brushed a knuckle under chin. “Campaigning would be like that a lot. Little or no more privacy for either of us. Everything we did would be scrutinized.”

  “You’re right, that lady knew about the nosy reporter at the demonstration and his accusations.” She pointed at him. “But Thia knew exactly what to say.”

  “No more talk about your sister. This is about us—only you and me.” He tried to keep his voice calm, to let her know the importance of what he said. “See what you’ve done to yourself. When you first walked into the party, I didn’t recognize you. You look, I don’t know…”

  “Say it.” Her look was intense.

  “You seem like a stranger, dressed up in this church-lady dress. I don’t know this Vena, and it scares the hell out of me.” He shifted on the bench and raised his hands to her hair. Slowly, he pulled the combs from her restrained hairstyle and watched the springy curls release. With fumbling hands, he ran his fingers through her hair until it surrounded her head like a halo. “There’s the Elfie I know and love.” He covered her lips with a gentle kiss. “Welcome back.”