Rekindled Dreams

by Carroll-Bradd, Linda

Tootie leaned close. “She’s in town for rest and relaxation on doctor’s orders. Told Maxie so herself. What else could it be? My sister Velma’s boy, Roger…or was it Rodney? I’m always getting them mixed up. Twins, you know. Anyway, those were the doctor’s exact words: ‘rest and relaxation.’” She put a hand to one side of her mouth and whispered, “In the sanitarium, after his breakdown.”

  Finn’s thoughts flashed to Vena’s appearance the previous night, fading away from the ladies’ continued conversation. She had appeared tired. He’d chalked it up to the long day of travel. Or had she been seriously ill? Her attitude this morning seemed normal enough, but how could he really tell? What if—

  Ruth’s latest words had just registered. “Could you repeat what you just said, Ms. Maguire? Please.”

  Ruth paused, tugged the open edges of her cardigan closer, and straightened her shoulders. “I said, I wonder why Vena’s fiancé didn’t accompany her. Didn’t you notice her engagement ring?”

  His jaw clamped tight. Hadn’t Vena switched the ring back to her right hand?

  Chapter Three

  BOLSTERED BY FINN’S STRONG grip as he led her through the screen door, Vena faced her first encounter as an engaged woman. Stories prepared or not. She spotted two gray-haired women rising from their chairs.

  The small, plump woman held out both hands. “Little Elfie, so grown up. And what a lovely dress, like something I remember Mama wearing.”

  “Aunt Tootie, you’re looking well.” Vena released Finn’s hand, walked forward, and accepted the older woman’s hand clasp. One of her Nana Gwen’s best friends, Tootie could have modeled for a Norman Rockwell painting. This sweet grandmother always had a ready smile and had eagerly shared Vena’s childhood discoveries of a bug or new flower.

  At a tap on her shoulder, Vena turned to meet the pale blue gaze of her Nana’s nemesis, Ruth. For as long as Vena could remember, Ruth Maguire and Nana had competed on every accomplishment known to senior citizens—from baking pies to cultivating roses. “Hello, Ms. Maguire.”

  Ruth squinted, inspecting Vena’s face, and then pierced her with a hawk-eyed glare. “You’re pale, and you look tired. What have you been doing to yourself?”

  With an effort, Vena restrained a wince and returned her stare. Count on Ruth Maguire not to sugarcoat her opinions. “Working entirely too hard. How about you, Ms. Maguire? Did your roses take a ribbon at the county fair this year?”

  Ruth smiled, releasing the starch from her expression. “As a matter of fact, they did. First place for the third year running. Nice of you to inquire, Vena.”

  “Ladies?”

  At the sound of Finn’s masculine voice, all three women turned.

  “We’ll be more comfortable sitting. Vena, why don’t you join me on the glider?”

  His firm grasp on her elbow guided her to the cushioned wooden seat. Her skin tingled at the touch of his fingers. Any hesitation over him playing the part of a doting fiancé dissolved. She sank onto the cushion, tucking her dress close to her legs.

  The other women returned to the wicker chairs under the multi-paned window and angled them toward her.

  “Finnian dear,” Tootie spoke up, “if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a cup of coffee. Maybe some of Shamrocks’ special Emerald Isle blend.”

  “I should have thought of it myself. Be back in five minutes.” From the doorway, Finn narrowed his gaze and made a zipping motion over his lips.

  Vena lifted one shoulder and cocked her head to the side. He’d orchestrated this get-together, and now he left her at the mercy of the Gray Ladies?

  The man was definitely taking his chances.

  “Good, he’s gone.” Tootie scooted her chair a couple feet closer. “Now we can really talk. I hate agreeing with Ruth, but your skin is peaked. How are you really, sweetie?”

  Tootie was probably the only person in the entire world who could call her sweetie without sounding offensive. Surprised at the interest in her health, Vena laughed. “I’m fine. I just haven’t had much free time lately to be outdoors.”

  “Are you eating right? Drinking lots of water?” Tootie’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward. “Maybe you need more vegetables in your diet. I’ve got some lovely cauliflower and broccoli in my greenhouse. Let me bring some over.”

  Vena squirmed at the intense interest. Now that Tootie’s own children were grown and gone, she obviously needed someone to worry about. The fact Nana’s friends still honored her memory by watching out for her granddaughter warmed her heart. But she’d grown self-sufficient after Nana’s passing and the fussing made her uncomfortable. “I’m not sure about planning ahead for dinner,” she said. “Finn has work going on in almost every room. We managed last night all right, but had to eat breakfast at Lottie’s.”

  Tootie clasped her hands together and fretted. “But, pumpkin, you should be eating regular—”

  Ruth interrupted, “Shh, Tootie, I hear him coming.”

  Vena smiled, confident she’d kept the conversation on a neutral topic in his absence. Wonder why the ladies didn’t ask about my ring?

  ****

  Finn set the tray of coffee, cups, and mini-muffins on a small serving table and let his gaze circle the group. “Who wants coffee?”

  With precision, Tootie took over the task of serving. “I was just telling Vena about all my vegetables, ready to be picked.” She poured and then passed him the cup with a squinted glance. “Isn’t that a good idea for Vena’s supper, Finnian?”

  Finn reached for the saucer, but she held it tight. “That’s kind, Mrs. Sampson. But the kitchen isn’t set up for that kind of cooking yet.” He couldn’t connect the intensity of her gaze to her comment about vegetables.

  Tootie released the saucer and waved a hand. “Silly man. That’s the great thing about vegetables. You can eat them raw. In fact, better that way.” She winked. “More roughage, you know.”

  Ruth leaned forward. “Yes, Tootie, we all know about that benefit. A more important issue must be discussed.”

  Finn passed the cup along and wished he could decipher the undercurrent of the conversation. Growing up as oldest of six kids in a close-knit Irish family, he’d learned to sit quiet when sensing tension. Five times out of six, the problem hadn’t been his.

  This time the odds were stacked against him. He was definitely outnumbered. He felt a cool hand on his wrist and turned to meet Ruth’s stare. She’d scooted her chair close enough for him to detect a faint scent of lavender.

  “I have a question for you, sonny. Vena mentioned something about restorations and cooking. Was she at The Shamrocks the entire night?”

  Finn stiffened and shot a sideways glance at Vena. What exactly did had she said?

  “Your guilty expression gives you away, boy.” Ruth slapped both hands on the armrests, readying to push herself out of the chair. After glaring at Tootie, she turned her piercing stare on Vena. “I guess Tootie didn’t get all the details from Maxie. I assumed you’d arrived this morning. Tell us, just how long have you been in town?”

  Finn took in Vena’s dazed eyes. She obviously hadn’t believed him about small town conventionality and had let something incriminating slip out.

  “Was that you I heard around one o’clock?” Tootie chirped, waving her hands as she talked. “The Bruner’s dogs started a ruckus. You know how that bothers Penelope. I got up to see what was happening and had a nice chat with Finnian.”

  “You went outside? At that hour?” Ruth’s voice rose.

  Tootie’s hands dropped to her lap. “No, I just raised the window sash.”

  Finn cleared his throat. “Muffin anyone?” He knew the women were great friends, but in the years they’d been neighbors, he’d heard of their ‘discussions’ involving every minute detail of an event. He’d already lived the experience of Vena’s late arrival, and a small part of him regretted ever answering the door.

  Not only had Vena caused him to lose sleep, now he was wasting valuable work time, too. He needed
to get back on schedule with the restorations. “Yes, ladies, Vena was here for part of last night. In an upstairs room.”

  Ruth leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “So, you admit it.”

  “What’s to admit?” Vena’s surprised laughter erupted. “You sound like a crime occurred here.”

  Finn heard the exasperation in Vena’s voice and hoped to keep the discussion from escalating into an argument. He placed a hand on hers, willing her to quiet her tone. Her soft skin slid against his callused palm like silk on sandpaper. As if moving on its own, his thumb rubbed a path across the back of her hand and stretched to run the ridge of her knuckles. Blood pumped in his ears, and his pulse raced. This reaction was for Vena?

  “Oh, my.” Tootie let out a sigh, her hands clasped under her chin. “Finnian, you’re a real hero. You rescued a damsel in distress.”

  Finn grinned and released Vena’s hand. “A bit more complicated than that, but The Shamrocks is an inn.”

  “It’s an inn when your parents are here,” Ruth snapped. “When it’s just you, Finnian Quaid, it’s a regular family home. Think of Vena’s reputation. An unmarried woman should not spend the night under the same roof with a single man—not without a chaperone.”

  “A chaperone?” Vena scoffed and leaned forward. “You’re not serious, Ms. Maguire. I’ve known Finn since I was a little girl, and this is not the nineteen sixties.” She glanced between the older women then turned a hopeful gaze in his direction. “Tell her, Finn.”

  Even if Vena didn’t, Finn recognized their situation was one ripe for rumors. Rumors a potential candidate did not need, especially if they could be avoided. He spread his hands before him in silent appeal. “What do you suggest, Ms. Maguire?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I just know it’s not right.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” Tootie bounced in her chair, and the coffee cup clattered. “Vena could stay with us.”

  Finn rescued the cup and saucer and set them aside. “Interesting idea.” A legitimate way to put physical distance between him and Vena. They would be close enough to talk, and he could return to his projects. The protectiveness he felt at the ladies’ mention of Vena’s health warred with his wish to avoid the distraction she represented. For now, his work schedule won.

  “We love having guests.” Tootie’s hands flew around. “And it’s been so long. We’ll need to clear aside a few things.”

  “But I came here hoping to-to…” Vena sputtered. Her gaze swung between him and the women. “Um, get some work done.”

  “Of course, sweetie.” Tootie patted Vena’s knee. “We’ll put you in the front bedroom. There’s a desk and lamp in there already, and we’ll find you a comfy chair.” She turned to Ruth, eyes dancing with excitement. “What do you think?”

  “A logical solution.” Ruth nodded, her mouth pressed in a straight line.

  “I hate to mention this,” Vena interjected, her voice rising, “but I was counting on privacy, too. Moira assured me The Shamrocks was the right place for my needs.”

  Finn’s gaze connected with Vena’s, but he couldn’t hold it. Her pleading look went straight to his conscience, and he almost felt sorry for her. Until he remembered his own deadline and the delays caused by her presence.

  This was the second best solution. Definitely better for his peace of mind.

  “I understand, pumpkin,” Tootie cooed. “You’ll do your work for a little while, and then we’ll have plenty of time to chat. I’m going home right now to straighten up.” She stood and leaned over to kiss Finn’s cheek. “Thank you, sweet boy. A house guest is just what we needed.”

  Ruth stood and squared off opposite him. “We’ll expect her within the hour.”

  Stalling over how to explain his actions, he waited until the older woman had reached the sidewalk before turning.

  “I can’t believe Ms. Maguire. She talked like I wasn’t even here.” Vena jumped to her feet and paced. “Traitor. Couldn’t you stick up for me? Why didn’t you announce our ‘big news’? Cold feet?”

  For a moment, he’d lost track of why she was so angry. “They already know.”

  “You told them?” She raised a hand, grabbed a strand of hair, and twisted. “I don’t believe you. They would have mentioned it.”

  “You didn’t switch back the ring and someone at the café must have noticed.” He recognized her old habit, the one she used when she was thinking hard. “They don’t know I’m the fiancé. They think you came to town already engaged. This is getting complicated, Vena, and I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “The ladies are right about how the situation looks.”

  “Damn.” Vena ripped the ring off one hand and jammed it on the other. “Our rooms were on separate floors, for pity’s sake. And we’ve known each other forever.”

  He watched her petite form swiftly step the width of the porch and back to the glider. Her moves were smooth and graceful, and he idly wondered why her dress was so baggy. “I know that and you know that, but that’s not what they see. You’ve been away a long time.”

  Vena stopped in front of him, hands on hips. “Come on, Finn, it’s the twenty-first century.”

  “Not here in small town Montana.” He flung an arm toward the street. “Look around you. Here in Dry Creek, it’s still the nineteen sixties. I’m only thinking about your reputation.” Guilt flashed through him at the little white lie. He studied her stern expression and tried another tack, one he didn’t think she could fight. “Tootie was so excited about having you stay as their guest. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?” He gave her his best cajoling grin, the one that always worked on women.

  “Oh, spare me, Quaid.” Vena shot him one final glare before spinning and stalking into the house.

  Finn watched the swing of flowery fabric caress her slim hips as she stomped up the stairs. Relief settled over him at the realization that within the hour, temptation by the name of Vena Fenton would no longer be under his roof.

  ****

  Arms crossed over her chest, Vena watched Finn set down her suitcase in the entry hall of Tootie and Ruth’s house. If only she could ignore the flexing of toned muscles under his snug T-shirt, she could keep her anger revved up.

  “That’s the last suitcase. Can you manage from here?” Finn stood in the entry, one hand on the screen door handle.

  Vena narrowed her eyes. He’s actually happy about this. She vowed not to give him the satisfaction of an answer. The traitor didn’t deserve one. If she’d been able to carry her belongings in one trip, she would have refused his help.

  Tootie patted his arm. “We’ll do just fine. Thank you, Finnian dear.”

  He raised a hand in a final wave and left.

  Ruth picked up a suitcase and started down the hall. “Follow me.”

  “You don’t really need a tour, do you dear?” Tootie pointed the way. “You’ve been here before.”

  When I was about twelve. “A long time ago.”

  Tootie stopped and turned. “Did you say something, Elfie? My hearing is just fine, as long as you speak clearly.”

  “Nothing.” Vena plastered on a smile. “Lead me to my room.”

  “First door on your right. Herbert’s old office.”

  Vena entered the room and squealed. Everywhere she looked, beady eyes stared down from their high perches. Chipmunks, squirrels, birds, a fox, and an opossum—all stuffed and poised on stands.

  “What’s the matter, pumpkin?” Tootie fretted.

  “Sorry. I was just startled by the, the…” Vena glanced over Tootie’s shoulder at Ruth, who frowned and shook her head.

  “They don’t scare you, do they?” Tootie’s eyes misted, and she wrung her hands. “After Herbert passed, I donated the largest specimens to the county museum. But I couldn’t bear to part with these. When I sit in here surrounded by my pets, I feel his presence again.”

  The sight of Tootie’s watery eyes made Vena reconsider. Slowly, she gazed around the roo
m. Without realizing what she was doing, she started counting her new roommates. Fourteen. She hated to upset Tootie further by asking to have some moved to another room. “Don’t give it another thought. I’ll be so busy, um, relaxing, I won’t even know they’re here.”

  Tootie let out a breath. “Relaxing? Didn’t you need to work?” She waved a hand toward the window. “That’s why I thought this desk would be perfect.”

  Glad to see Tootie’s eyes were now dry, Vena’s shoulders relaxed. How much should she say about her work? If Lottie’s was any indication of how fast news traveled, she needed to keep her answers vague. Her creative process had slowed under Nick’s scrutiny—hence, the trip to Montana.

  “The couch folds out into a bed. Linens and a pillow are on the closet shelf.” Ruth moved to the window, spread the curtains, and pulled up the shade.

  Sunlight poured into the room, dispelling the oppressive tone set by the animal carcasses. The wallpaper was a cheery yellow with meandering green vines. Oak bookcases packed with leather-bound books and magazines lined the far wall.

  Vena rested the case with her tablet and writing supplies on the straight chair. Centered on the desk was a huge manual typewriter. On one side lay a yellow legal pad and lead pencils. On the other sat a stack of typing paper, curled at the edges. Her heart softened at the efforts the women were making to accommodate her, and she turned with a smile. “This will do just fine.”

  “Really?” Tootie beamed. “I set it up the same way Herbert liked it. Did I forget anything?”

  “Not a thing,” Vena answered. “Thanks.”

  Both women gazed expectantly in her direction.

  A frisson of nervousness tingled through her stomach. She had no idea what they wanted. “I’ll grab my last bag from the entry.” Vena walked to the front of the house, reacquainting herself with the location of the kitchen and the bathroom. Her nose tickled, and she sneezed.

  Returning to the room, she discovered the women had already opened a suitcase. Ruth was busy hanging her clothes in the closet, and Tootie filled an end table drawer with her lingerie and toiletries.