Rekindled Dreams Read online

  “Shh.” He slid an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “Don’t freak out, just smile.” Speaking through teeth gritted in a comical smile, he tightened his hold and slowed his steps. He leaned forward, his gaze swinging past her, and waved. “Hello, Mr. Tyler. Nice morning, isn’t it, sir?”

  Vena turned her head and pasted on a weak smile when all she wanted was to curl into Finn’s warmth. The lean muscles against her side felt so good.

  An elderly man sat on his front porch, reading the newspaper. He raised a hand in greeting. “Hello to you, young Quaid. How are Bridget and Phelan?”

  “They’re fine. Taking a bit of a vacation.”

  “Good for them. Hello, young lady. Have a nice day, you two.”

  As they walked together, Vena tried not to notice how well their bodies fit together. His hip grazed her waist, and her head rested against his shoulder. They walked to the next corner and crossed the street. When they stepped up onto the curb, Finn dropped his arm.

  She elbowed him in the side. “Should I be offended at not being introduced?” The only way to stay sane was to treat their engagement in a light-hearted way. To get through the next two weeks, they’d both need a good sense of humor.

  “Remember, I wanted to stay at The Shamrocks until we had our stories straight.” Shaking his head, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “I debated about whether to remind him who you are, or wait to see if he noticed the ring. And I think that’s the best way. Why make things harder for ourselves by telling everyone we see?”

  At the indecision in his voice, Vena laughed. “This is such a bad start. What happened to just ‘putting on a costume’ and pretending?” She glanced at his scowling face and regretted her teasing. This was important for him, and she truly wanted to help. “How about this? We don’t say a word to anyone in town. I’ll switch the ring back until we can act naturally around each other.” Which, in her case, might be never. “But go ahead and tell your business contacts we’re engaged. Will that help?”

  Finn’s expression relaxed. “Right, the backers are the important ones. Everything else will fall into place, I know it will.”

  “Good, now let me enjoy the scenery.” She slipped her hand through his arm, fought hard not to caress the inside of his elbow, and rested it on his forearm. “Just two old friends walking through the streets of our hometown. Nothing special about that.” Her thoughts contradicted her words. This walk was special; it represented a turning point. She was setting the pace with a man she’d previously only idolized. “Oh, I’ve missed hearing songbirds. Aren’t they glorious?”

  Finn’s grumbled answer was unintelligible.

  She scanned in every direction, hungry for details she could use at the museum. Not a step was taken that she wasn’t totally aware of the sexy man at her side. But she had to pay attention to the research. The building at the corner of Second and Poplar was still the town’s only hardware store. Ah, there’s Eula’s beauty parlor right between the butcher shop and the bakery.

  Excitement at the small town setting bubbled through her. “Walking down this street is like going back in time. Everything seems exactly the same.” She glanced across the street where an ancient barber’s pole turned sun-bleached stripes of pink and dirty white. “I’ll bet that pole is the same one since I was a little girl. And I can barely read Harry Dawson’s name painted over the door. Don’t you feel comforted knowing what stores we’ll find as we walk down the street?” She threw out an arm to emphasize her point. “This is history, right here in front of us.”

  “This is just Dry Creek.” His gaze searched the area, and he shrugged. “Besides, Helena has its share of historic buildings.”

  Before crossing the Great Northern railroad tracks, they turned right and pushed open the door of Lottie’s Coffee Shop. Scents of rich coffee and fresh biscuits wafted over them. Even though they’d arrived between meals, half the tables and booths in the restaurant were occupied.

  “Head toward the back.” His voice was close to her ear. “There’s an empty booth.” Finn rested his hands on her hips and gave her a nudge.

  As she walked the swirled linoleum tiles bordered by red leather booths, she spotted heads turning in their direction. Conversations hushed. Greetings were called out to Finn, and his casual remarks sounded from close behind her. She slid into the upholstered seat facing the kitchen, not ready to acknowledge the patrons’ scrutiny. Now, she better understood Finn’s reaction to the older man on the porch.

  This engagement charade would not be easy to pull off with the entire town watching them.

  With a final wave across the restaurant, he sat and then turned his smile her way.

  Her heart flip-flopped. The man was certainly a charmer, and she wished his attention was more than just pretend. “You are quite popular. Should I be impressed?”

  His grin tilted at a cocky angle. “Always.”

  The only waitress, a teenage girl with wisps of blond hair clinging to her damp forehead, rushed to clear the dishes. “Coffee for both of you?” She waited for their nods, dropped menus on the table, and then dashed off.

  Vena scanned the menu and then closed it. “I hardly ever have French toast, but I’m on vacation and I deserve a treat.”

  Finn lowered his menu, eyes shining. “Is that your favorite breakfast?”

  “So, now it starts? The lessons?”

  “If we want to be convincing, we have to start now.”

  The waitress returned with their coffee. “Ready to order?”

  Finn laid down his menu and winked across the table. He turned to the young woman.

  Vena saw his gaze flick to her name tag and then back to her face.

  “Yes, Judy, we’re ready. The lady will have a small orange juice and French toast with syrup on the side. I’ll have the Denver omelet with sourdough toast and a large orange juice. And can you bring us a small pitcher of skim milk for the lady’s coffee?”

  “Sure thing.” Judy wrote on her pad, scooped up the menus, and walked away.

  Men had ordered for her in the past, so why did Finn’s manner send a thrill through her? “Nice touch, remembering I prefer milk to cream. And what clued you in to requesting the syrup on the side?”

  “Something I saw in a movie once. I figured that’s the way everyone from California orders.” He grinned and rested a forearm on the table. “Was that okay?”

  “Yeah, but don’t get cocky.” Playing the role of his fiancée could be such fun. “Breakfast is easy. Am I to assume you also ordered your favorite breakfast?”

  With a wide smile, he leaned forward. “My favorite breakfast served in public.”

  The devilish gleam in his eyes set her nerves tingling. To disguise her reaction, she leaned her forearms on the table and tilted her head. “Let me guess. The other menu contains only finger foods. A beautiful woman feeds you as you lie on a chaise like a Roman emperor.”

  Finn threw back his head and laughed. “Good one. The girl I used to know would have blushed beet-red and never dared give such a sassy answer. What have you done with my shy, retiring Elfie?”

  “She got tired of being ignored, so I got rid of her.” She reached across the table and clasped his hand, staring intently into his eyes. “Do me a favor and don’t use my old nickname. I am Vena now.”

  “Sorry.” Finn sobered and squeezed her hand. “Give me more time to get used to this new Vena Fenton.”

  “Okay.” She loosened her grasp and drew her fingernail in a trail along the back of his hand, gazing from under lowered eyelids. “You realize the old Vena would never have agreed to—”

  He tensed and pulled away his hand. “Shh.”

  “Excuse me, folks, here’s your order.” As she placed their food in front of them, Judy’s gaze was wide and flicked between them. “More coffee?”

  She and Finn exchanged conspiratorial glances and nodded.

  When Judy left, Finn leaned forward. “We need to be more careful about what we say and do around oth
er people.”

  “I can see that. But we still have to study.” She cut off an end of golden toast, dipped it in the small pitcher of syrup, and savored the bite of egg-covered bread. “This is great. Okay, so far this morning, I’ve learned you don’t worry about your cholesterol, you’re at ease in politician mode, smiling and waving at those you meet, sometimes including a personal comment or two. You used the waitress’ name, which I’m sure endeared you to her forever.”

  He looked up from pouring ketchup on his hash browns, brows wrinkled over the bridge of his nose. “You don’t do that?”

  Vena thought a moment and then shook her head. “I am embarrassed to admit I dropped the habit after moving away. I’ll make more of an effort in the future. And you”—she pointed with her fork— “still have a sweet tooth. I saw the heaping spoonfuls of jam you slathered on that toast.”

  Eyes closed in obvious enjoyment, he chewed a large bite of sourdough toast. “That’s because I’ve discovered Maxie serves homemade jam, a treat I can’t resist.”

  “Maxie? She’s still cooking here?” Vena wiped her mouth and stood. “I’ve got to say hello.” She walked toward the register, hoping to catch the server’s attention, but Judy was busy clearing a table.

  The sharp clank of a bell sounded. “Order up,” a woman called from the kitchen.

  Vena knew that throaty voice. She’d heard it enough times when she and Moira had haunted Lottie’s for ice cream sodas during long, hot summer afternoons. Standing on her toes, Vena could just see over the pass-through into the kitchen.

  Sure enough, Maxine Roberts, tall and angular with her trademark platinum bouffant hairdo, stood in front of the huge industrial stove and grill.

  Vena cleared her throat and called out, “Maxie. You’re still working here.”

  “The one and only. Who wants to know?”

  “Vena Fenton. Do you remember me?”

  The half-door into the kitchen slammed against the counter, jarring the toasting rack, and Maxie’s head appeared. “Well, I’ll be jiggered. Get over here, Elfie, and give these old bones a hug.”

  Vena stepped into the kitchen—and back into a simpler time. Immediately, her senses were overwhelmed by the aromas of potatoes frying, bacon sizzling, and the moist steam drifting from the dishwasher. A metal jungle of cooking utensils and pots hung from an overhead wrought-iron wheel. Enveloped in Maxie’s bony-armed embrace, Vena felt quiet waves of homecoming wash over her.

  “Elfie, let me look at you.” Maxie broke the hug and held her arms straight. “Didn’t you turn out a pretty little thing. What happened to all your freckles?” She stretched backward to deftly flip several pancakes before facing her again. “What brings you back to Dry Creek?”

  Leave it to Maxie to get right to the crux of the matter. Hesitant about jinxing her project by discussing it, she stammered, “Uh, vacation. I’ve been working really hard. Now I’m following doctor’s orders, getting lots of rest.” Only a slight stretch of the truth. She had been sick with the flu the previous month.

  Maxie scowled. “You’ve got shadows under your eyes, and you’re too skinny. Sit on that stool, and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “You just did.” Vena laughed. “I had the French toast, and it was delicious. I’ll bet Lottie is grateful you’ve stayed on all these years.”

  “Lottie. Hah.” Maxie snorted with laughter. “I own the place. Bought her out six years ago come November. Judy darlin’, come on back and stir this oatmeal. I want to talk to Elfie without yelling my throat raw.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t.” Vena laid a hand on Maxie’s arm. “Maybe another time. Finn’s waiting back at our table.”

  Maxie turned and stared, penciled eyebrows climbing into stiffly curved bangs. “You’re here with Finnian Quaid?”

  The older woman’s blatant surprise made Vena hesitate a moment. “We’ve spent the morning catching up on old times. Today is so beautiful that we walked here.” She flinched. That hadn’t come out right.

  “I know for a fact Bridget and Phelan are out of town.” Maxie’s face wrinkled into a frown. “Surely they canceled The Shamrocks’ guests.”

  “Guest?” Vena affected a nonchalant wave. “I’m practically one of the family.” She gulped, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Besides, where else would I find an empty bed at one in the morning?” Shut up. I’m making things worse.

  Maxie squinted, leaning a veined hand on her hip. “You came in last night? And stayed at The Shamrocks?”

  “Bye now.” Unable to meet Maxie’s penetrating gaze, Vena gave her a quick hug and retreated to the booth where Finn waited.

  Finn leaned over the back of the booth, talking with a young couple showing off their baby girl.

  She bent down, fighting the allure of his woodsy scent, and spoke in an urgent whisper, “Pay the bill right now. I’ll meet you on the sidewalk.” She spun and darted out the door, daring a peek in the kitchen’s direction at the last minute.

  Her body bent over the front counter, Maxie had the telephone in one hand and was busy dialing with the other.

  ****

  As he headed to the register, Finn pulled several bills from his wallet. Why had Vena acted all weird? She’d been fine while they ate, but so agitated when she’d rushed back to their table. Maxie was busy with what sounded like an urgent phone call. He spotted Judy a few feet away and called her name. He waved the money and the bill before placing them on the counter.

  Maxie lowered the mouthpiece and turned, a finger pointing in his direction. “You’d better behave yourself, young man.” She turned back to the phone. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  His chest tightened. That warning tone made him feel about ten years old again. And like he’d just been caught misbehaving. The impact of Maxie’s comment and Vena’s sudden change of attitude propelled him through the door. He glanced around, spotted Vena waiting under the shade of an oak tree across the street, and strode toward her.

  Her expression was tight, her eyes wide.

  “What was that about?” He fought to keep his voice calm. “Maxie just skewered me with a glare that could freeze oil. What did you say in there?”

  “I’m not good at lying.” Vena stomped up the street. “Maybe this whole engagement thing won’t work, Finn.”

  Anxiety stalled his steps. No, she couldn’t back out. He needed her. Within a few long strides, he caught up and grabbed her hand.

  She whirled, guilt clouding her eyes. “I’m not as skilled at spinning stories as you are.” A hand waved circles in the air. “Maybe your family is blessed with the blarney, like my mother always said, but I’m not.”

  The pain in her eyes took him back years. Here was the Vena he remembered. The girl whose eyes broadcasted every emotion in her tender heart was now a woman whose pained expression kicked alive his protective instincts.

  “Aye, ‘tis the blarney I have, and ‘tis the blarney that will save us.” He lifted a hand to brush stray hair from her eyes. “Whatever you said can be fixed. Let’s walk, and you tell me what happened.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and squeezed it gently, surprised at how right it felt.

  “I don’t even know what to tell you. One minute, Maxie and I were chatting about my reasons for being in town, and the next, I was telling her we’d spent the night together.”

  His grip tightened. “You didn’t.”

  “Not in those exact words.” She waved her free hand. “But by her astonished expression, you’d think I had. I just said I’d arrived in the middle of the night.”

  Ah, small town etiquette. This he could handle. “Vena, you’ve been away a long time.” He made sure to keep his voice low. “You’ve forgotten what a sheltered town Dry Creek really is. Back at The Shamrocks, we’ll have that study session. We won’t quit until you feel ready.”

  “Don’t be smug. You have lots to learn about me, too.”

  Giving her a wink, he squeezed her hand. The prospect became more fascinating with each passing moment.
“You’re right, until we’re both ready.”

  As they crossed the last street before The Shamrocks, someone called his name. “Here’s the key,” Finn said. “Go on ahead. I need to deliver a message to Mrs. Donnelly for Ma.”

  Vena nodded and hurried up the walk to The Shamrocks.

  Five minutes later, Finn waved at the neighbor and started back across the street. Just as he reached the sidewalk, he heard a nearby gate clank and looked up to see his next-door neighbors, Tootie Sampson and Ruth Maguire, striding toward him as determinedly as women in their seventies could. A visit from the leaders of Dry Creek’s Gray Ladies could only mean trouble.

  With a wave and a wide smile, he greeted them. “Top o’ the mornin’, ladies.”

  Tootie, short and round with a sweet face framed by a riot of gray curls, giggled. “I just love your Irish talk.”

  Ruth jabbed her with an elbow and shot her a stern look. “We heard Vena Fenton is at The Shamrocks.” She craned her neck, trying to see around him into the yard. “Where is she?”

  Finn bit back a groan. He’d hoped for more time alone before friends of Vena’s late granny learned she was in town. “Probably inside.”

  Chin tipped downward, Tootie peered over the rims of her reading glasses. “Maxie says she’s too thin, but Eula thinks she looks great, just like an actress in the motion pictures. She can’t wait to see her up close to check how they did her haircut.”

  Ruth cleared her throat with a loud ahem.

  Tootie glanced sideways and shrugged. “Well, they both agree she’s really blossomed from that skinny, freckle-faced kid. What do you think, Finnian?”

  How could he argue with the very subject that had robbed him of desperately needed sleep? “You could say that.”

  Slender, salt-and-pepper haired Ruth rested a hand on his forearm. “Did she tell you about her nervous breakdown?”

  “Her what?” Dread flashed through Finn at those words as he remembered the humiliation of his eccentric Aunt Siobhan’s crazy antics.