“Not now, girls,” their mother said. “Freddie, you go first. Alana, smile.”
The limo pulled to a halt in front of the hotel. A red velvet rope kept the press back, and flashbulbs exploded as the doorman helped first their mother, then Freddie, then Alana from the limo. They smiled but kept moving up the red carpet. In addition to the standard gauntlet of political reporters were photographers and stringers from the more avaricious tabloids, all in search of a good shot of Freddie. She obligingly stopped and smiled, then reached for Alana. Her arm went around Freddie’s waist and her sister tipped her head to hers.
“Love you,” Freddie whispered.
“Love you, too,” Alana replied.
This was enough. This was more than enough.
? ? ?
THE HOTEL WAS absolutely packed. Freddie and their mother moved through the crowd with the confidence that nothing would start without them, so they could take their time. Alana kept an eye on her watch and played her role, murmuring quietly to disengage them from conversations and keep them somewhat close to the schedule. They were united with the Senator at the head table, where Alana collected her perfunctory welcome-home kiss, then took her place beside Freddie. Everyone was seated only thirty-five minutes behind schedule—not bad, all things considered.
Speeches, toasts, more speeches, then a luxurious dinner. Alana picked at her food and refused a second glass of wine in favor of water. After dessert, the servers opened the dance floor, and the real business of the night began, the backroom conversations and negotiations that would grease the wheels of the next round of policy talks.
Alana made the rounds, then found herself in a group of people she’d known casually since childhood. One level of her brain tracked the conversation, filing away gossip and updates that her mother or Freddie might find useful. They’d compare notes later, sifting through the social strata, always searching for ways to tighten the connections that would advance the foundation’s interests.
Another level, very quiet, very calm, and very, very unshakable, said that enough wasn’t enough anymore. Before her time in Walkers Ford, it was enough to work for the foundation. It was good work, interesting, important. But she’d made the life she always wanted in Walkers Ford, a life rich in the meaning and connections she never found in Chicago. Tomorrow morning, she’d get back in her car, drive back to Walkers Ford, and apply for the permanent library director position. Period. End of story. The town needed a librarian, and she wanted the job. Cody needed a mentor, and she wanted to watch him grow into the man he would become. Mrs. Battle needed a friend.
Lucas needed a lover.
They all needed her. Not for what she could do, but for who she was. Now she knew what she wanted. She knew where she belonged. She knew who she should be with, forever.
The conversation stuttered, then halted as all eyes turned to Alana. “I’m sorry,” she said, startled out of her reverie. “You were saying?”
They weren’t looking at her. They were looking over her shoulder. She turned around to find Lucas standing behind her. He wore a dark suit and tie, with his too-long hair neatly parted and combed. His face was unreadable, but in his eyes flickered something that made her hope.
“Ms. Wentworth,” he said. “A moment of your time?”
? ? ?
SHE LOOKED BEAUTIFUL. He should have more eloquent words to describe Alana Wentworth dressed in a gown the color of the night sky strewn with roses. Her slender shoulders and neck gleamed like cream above the dress, but when her gaze met his, his heart nearly stopped beating. She looked mysterious, untouchable, as out of his reach as the sky, and for a moment, Lucas regretted getting in his car and driving nine hours after her.
“Of course,” she said. “Excuse me, please,” she said to the group of women she stood with. All of them were taller or thinner, wearing flashier dresses or more makeup, but they all disappeared into the background next to Alana. He didn’t fit into this world, and he’d come here thinking she didn’t either.
He now realized that was a big, big mistake.
Alana’s eyebrows drew down. “Why are you calling me Ms. Wentworth? We’ve been naked together. Many times.”
A laugh huffed from his chest. “Given the circumstances, I’m being professional,” he said.
“How did you get past security and the Secret Service?”
He pulled back his suit jacket just enough to show her his badge, clipped to his belt. “I bluffed my way in. Don’t give me away.”
“Why are you here? Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. Better than before. Tanya’s in rehab, and this time I think it will stick. Cody’s working on the mural,” he said, and pulled out his phone to show her the pictures he took while Cody worked.