A Woman of Fortune (4 page)

The warm air carried the scent of blue bonnets mixed with—

Cigar
smoke?

Across the dance floor, Sidney McAlvain puffed away, sending plumes of blue-gray smoke into the air. He pinched Daisy on the backside, sending her into a fit of giggles. When she looked up and noticed Claire watching, she gave a little wave.

Despite what she was thinking, Claire smiled and waved back.

2

L
ainie stepped from the dressing room, modeling dress number twenty-nine.

In Texas, finding the right wedding dress could be compared to hunting wild boars. Her daddy always told the boys, “You can shoot at any of 'em, but a trophy pig can only be found if you're willing to do the work to hunt one down.”

“Oh, darlin'! That's the one,” her mother whispered, sounding nearly breathless.

Lainie gazed at her reflection in the bank of mirrors, feeling very much the bride she would be in less than eight months. “You think so? I kind of liked the antebellum skirt with the crystal-studded train.”

Her mom shook her head. “You've always been a bling child, but that dress with the big skirt makes you look like you stepped off the
Gone with the Wind
movie set.”

“Oh, that's not true.” Lainie looked to the boutique consultant for support. Unfortunately, the woman peering over top her glasses knew who would be paying the bill and judiciously refrained from weighing in.

Lainie frowned. “It's pretty, but the dress doesn't send the right message.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Message?”

“I think I have something we just got in from Milan you might be interested in. The design is an Alvina Valenta one-shoulder ruffle gown made of oyster silk-faced satin with a modified A-line silhouette.” The woman slipped the glasses up into her hairline. “I believe the style would meet both your tastes, especially if Alvina added a Swarovski crystal-studded belt and you wore a chapel veil, also scattered with crystals.” She pulled her mouth into a tight smile and waited for approval.

Her mom clasped her hands. “Oh, that sounds exquisite.” She looked at Lainie with a hopeful expression. “Don't you think, sweetheart?”

Lainie hated to admit it, but in the end, the suggested gown was stunning—and finally something both she and her mother could agree on.

They'd been a little at odds over this whole wedding business from the start, it seemed. Her mama had wanted to host the ceremony out at the ranch with Pastor Richards officiating, an offer Lainie immediately and adamantly declined.

She and Reece had wanted a dignified affair at the Dallas Country Club—that is, until Reece's dad reminded them over dinner how the club's membership admissions, particularly its often criticized by-invitation-only exclusivity, might give the wrong impression for a candidate who held political aspirations beyond the borders of the Lone Star state. “Did you forget how the press reacted when Dick Cheney's wife played a simple round of golf?” he cautioned. “Other areas of the country don't always view these things the same we do here in Texas, Son.”

Despite her rather healthy pout, her handsome dark-haired fiancé caved to his father, and plans had been amended. Only after Reece promised a Christmas season wedding at the Dallas Arboretum, with blow-out fireworks over White Rock Lake, had she pulled in her lip and rewarded him with a smile.

To make her mama happy, a special Chihuly exhibit would serve
as the backdrop when nearly a thousand guests gathered to celebrate her magical evening and—if the election went as planned—the night she would become Mrs. Reece Sandell, wife of the newly elected US senator from Texas, the youngest at only thirty-four years old.

And Lord willing, one day she'd raise her children in the White House.

Never mind she'd overheard Andrew Sandell tease his son he should be very careful marrying a girl whose daddy calls her Princess.

Well, she knew what her grandma, God bless her, would say to that. “If the glass slipper fits, wear it.”

With the dress fitting finished, Lainie gathered her bag while her mother called for the car. “Mom, can you believe we only have eight months until the ceremony? I don't see how we're possibly going to get everything done.”

Her mother slipped her sunglasses on as they headed for the front door. “Baby, I wish you'd reconsider and have Pastor Richards officiate. How's that going to look with Daddy an elder and all?” They stepped from the air-conditioned lobby into the warmth of the sunny May day. “Besides, proper etiquette dictates the bride's family chooses who performs the ceremony. Are we rewriting the laws of the South now?”

Lainie slid her own sunglasses in place. “Mama, don't start again.”

Their driver opened the car door and her mother slid into the plush backseat. “What am I going to tell the ladies at Bible study? I'll be renounced as chair of the missions gala this year.”

Lainie ducked her head and followed her mother into the town car. “Aren't you being a little overdramatic?”

Her mom pulled out a mirror and reapplied her lipstick. “Well, maybe a little. But seriously, Lainie, I don't understand why Pastor Richards can't do the ceremony.”

Lainie checked her phone for messages. “We already went over
this. The Sandells count on financial support from their own church members for Reece's campaign. I'm picking my battles, and this isn't one of them. If Reece wants his pastor to perform the wedding ceremony, I see no reason not to consent.” She slipped her phone back inside her bag. “Besides, it's too late to change things now.”

Her mom opened the door of the tiny refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. “Want one, honey?”

Lainie shook her head.

Her mother made an awful face. “Well, I don't like this pastor thing. Not one bit,” she said and unscrewed the bottle. “Just promise me the ceremony will be dignified. Some of these wedding officiants love to hear their own voices and just go on too long. I hate when wedding ceremonies get too preachy. Takes the focus off the bride.”

“Oh, Mama.” Lainie sighed. “We've got the dress ordered. Now let's just focus on tonight.”

Goodness knows only the Lord could help Lainie make it through the next months leading up to her magical day without killing her mother.

Claire parked her hands on her hips. “This won't work,” she muttered out loud, despite being alone in the penthouse suite. “These pumps are the wrong color.”

From the recesses of her mind, Claire could hear her mother's voice from years back.
Any woman can
slip into a remarkable dress, Claire. A woman of fortune
makes sure her shoes perfectly complement her outfit. Always look
at a woman's shoes.

Claire wrapped the tissue around the pumps and slid them back into their velvet-lined box. She tossed the container aside and made her way to the wall of windows overlooking the Dallas skyline, her feet padding across luxurious carpet. From the marble-topped table, she retrieved her cell phone and speed-dialed her personal
shopper, peering out the window in the direction of the American Airlines Center while she waited for Tony to pick up.

“Hey, Claire. What can I do for you?”

“Tony, I need shoes. The pumps I planned to wear for the fund-raiser tonight are the wrong shade of teal. Too dark.”

“Well, girl, I've got just the thing. I received an email this morning that the Neiman Marcus buyers snagged two pair of Manolo Blahnik alligator boots. And one is in a shade of blue that will make the pattern in that dress scream!” He paused. “Be warned. They're pricey.”

“They sound perfect! I'm at the Adolphus. Can you get them here no later than three?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Tony chuckled under his breath. “Just wait until everyone gets a look at these boots.”

Claire smiled with satisfaction. Tuck was totally devoted to her, but it never hurt to do everything possible to keep his eyes home on the range, if you get the picture.

After ending the call, Claire moved into the bathroom. She unscrewed the cap from the vanilla bottle she'd slipped into her overnight bag before leaving home. Carefully, she dripped the velvety brown liquid into the steaming bathwater, sending a sweet aroma drifting up. Even though her dressing table at home was lined with bottles of every shape and size filled with some of the most expensive fragrances a woman could buy, she often still preferred this simple scent.

She'd learned the trick years ago while poring over beauty hints in her
Teen Beat
magazine. When Claire was growing up, her mother and her new husband had no problem jet-setting around Europe, leaving her to feed bum lambs with her dad every holiday. She'd needed some way to cover the hint of sheep hanging on her skin.

On the day they'd received the call that her mother had remarried, Claire heard her father crying in the middle of the night. Earlier in the day, he'd assured her nothing important would change. Nothing would alter his own love for her. In all the important
ways, life would remain constant and Claire would be able to see her father as much as she wanted.

That was a lie, of course. With each passing year, Claire's mother found more excuses for keeping them apart, claiming summer travel was vital to her daughter's education, until finally Claire spent only Christmas holidays at her father's sheep ranch in San Angelo. There were, at that time, no cell phones, iPads, or Skype.

Her father died three weeks before Claire's graduation. By then, they barely knew one another. The days of climbing in her daddy's lap had turned to polite exchanges by telephone and across a dinner table. They lived worlds apart, in more ways than one. Remembering always left her feeling sad.

Claire stripped her clothes and laid them carefully over the sofa back for the maid to hang later. She grabbed her favorite lounging robe and draped the silk garment over her arm. Minutes later, she stepped into the waiting tub.

Ahh, the warm water felt good.

Leaning her head back, she let her mind drift to the details of the morning.

The gown Lainie had chosen for her wedding was stunning. By far, better than the one she'd almost set her heart on. She would have looked like Scarlett O'Hara dancing in that full-skirted monstrosity.

Sure, the Alvina Valenta was priced twenty thousand more. But the dress was worth every penny. Lainie looked gorgeous in it.

Now if she could only convince her headstrong daughter to reconsider Pastor Richards. Maybe Tuck could come up with something to sway her. If her husband could find time, that is.

In times past, Claire's husband would have endured her sharing details of the wedding. But last week she'd tried to ask his opinion about the seating arrangement at the rehearsal dinner, and he'd brushed her off and made his way back out to the offices. He'd fallen asleep on a sofa and hadn't returned to the house until late the next morning.

Claire closed her eyes and slid further down in the warm, scented
water until her toes barely touched the other end of the massive tub. From this position, with just her face not immersed, the only interruption to complete silence was her beating heart—
thu-thump, thu-thump
.

No matter what Tuck promised, there always seemed to be more cattle to purchase, more futures to analyze, more clients calling at all hours. If anything, Tuck was at his desk more. When he wasn't roving Texas finding the next cattle deal.