A Woman of Fortune (7 page)

5

L
ainie sat in the back of her mother's town car, wishing momentarily she'd find the tiny cabinet underneath the darkened window stocked with those tiny bottles of alcohol. Unfortunately, except for rare occasions, the Masseys rarely drank—well, except for her younger brother. Max often broke family rules.

Lainie grimaced. Who was she kidding? No amount of liquor could make her feel better. Not tonight.

Her mother's driver looked in the rearview mirror. “You okay, Miss Lainie?”

She nodded and assured Henry she was all right. Which was a lie, of course. They both knew Lainie was anything but all right.

The evening had been perfect, right up until Daddy made his surprise contribution (something they'd planned together—not even her mother knew). She and Reece stood near the stage with Mr. Findley, a Sandell family friend with a lot of influence and even more money. “That speech was magnificent,” he'd said, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw men in black suits heading toward the stage.

At first she'd thought they might be security, and a slight sense of alarm flowed beneath her calm exterior. But worry turned to confusion when the men stopped at her daddy's table.

The next minutes were tattooed in her memory, each second inked with wretched precision, the image of her daddy's handcuffed hands indelibly piercing her soul.

Lainie closed her eyes against fresh tears.

She'd been sitting here in front of Reece's family home on Beverly Drive for nearly a half hour, paralyzed with emotion like a pathetic crazy person.

Like most of the residents in the posh Highland Park area of Dallas, Reece's parents lived in a stunning mansion. From the cars congregated in the circular driveway of the French Mediterranean masterpiece, Lainie could tell Reece was inside with his parents and campaign staff—all likely in serious damage-control mode. Even from across the street, Lainie caught glimpses of Andrew Sandell pacing in front of the massive arched windows.

After the arrest, she'd hurriedly followed Reece and his entourage through the lobby. Reece's father had been the one to suggest she stay behind.

“Your family needs you,” Reece said in consolation as he allowed himself to be whisked down the escalators. His campaign manager folded in close behind, leaving her standing in her pine-colored Nicole Miller sheath with matching stilettos, feeling stunned and very much all alone.

What could she possibly be so afraid of? Reece loved her.

She should go inside. Lainie was, after all, soon to be Reece Sandell's wife. She deserved be there, by his side. Not pushed away like . . . well, like collateral damage.

Sure, no one would claim having your future father-in-law arrested in front of hundreds of your potential campaign contributors to be a good thing. But Bill Clinton's indiscretion with an intern never unseated him from the throne of public adoration.

So Reece would fall a few points in the polls for a week or so, or however long it took Daddy to get this mess straightened out, but then the spin doctors would play the scenario as nothing more than a candidate standing loyal by his fiancée and her family in
their time of need. The worst thing—the media might reference the overzealous federal agents during their wedding coverage. But by then, all eyes would be on her and that strikingly gorgeous gown, especially the way the oyster-colored ruffles looked against her skin.

Britain had their Princess Kate, and soon Lainie Massey Sandell would go on display in Texas's state trophy cabinet.

Her daddy always said his little girl's star wasn't meant to just hang in the sky and twinkle. Nope, he claimed her quasar presence would streak across life's horizon, leaving a trail of sparkle in her wake.

Lainie wasn't sure she could believe him. Her biggest admirer was a tad biased, just by virtue of loving her since she was tiny as a minute. His words, not hers.

Even her grandmother had predicted she'd live larger than most.

The night Lainie had met Reece she wondered, perhaps for the first time, if her dad and grandmother might indeed be prophets of sorts. Perhaps her future would be delightfully bright.

Lainie dreamed of rocketing past her mother's social status to a whole other sphere. And admit it—a senator's wife, maybe even the first lady . . . Those titles held radiance few could outshine.

Lainie checked her phone again. Why hadn't Reece answered her texts?

She glanced at her wristwatch. Twenty minutes. She'd wait that much longer—then she'd march across the street and demand to be included.

Lainie's mother would scold that was too assertive. A proper lady would bide her time and let the man come to her. But she held a more progressive view. Hadn't her saucy nature attracted Reece Sandell from that very first night?

Lainie placed her phone on the seat and reached into the refrigerator for an ice-cold bottle of water. She unscrewed the lid.

It had been Christmas time, a year and a half ago.

Lainie, home on holiday break from UT-Austin, begged off going
to the holiday pageant at Abundant Hills. Instead, she headed into the city to meet up with girlfriends, where they planned to check out the trendy Lizard Lounge in Deep Ellum. First they'd shop a bit in Highland Park and eat.

It was her idea to board the horse-drawn carriage and tour the elaborately decorated neighborhood, a tradition from childhood. At first the girls balked at the idea, but Lainie argued they had plenty of time. “Besides,” she teased, “those little blue Christmas boxes I just bought will find their way back to Tiffany's if you guys fail to give in.”

That night, the first time Lainie saw Reece Sandell, she thought he looked a lot like Tom Cruise. The early one with the clean-cut, chiseled jawline and short dark hair. Not the version often seen lately, his hair long and unkempt. She hated when celebrities didn't feel the need to keep up their appearance.

The tour was about to start when Reece rushed up to the carriage hand in hand with a petite gal dressed in tight jeans and salmon-colored furry UGGs. Lainie thought the girl with perky, short-cropped hair looked a bit ridiculous. Did she think she was spending the holidays in Sun Valley, or what? This was Texas, for goodness' sake. The only boots anyone wore in this state were cowboy boots. Besides, the outside temperature in Dallas climbed near seventy degrees, a southern standard in December.

The carriage barely rounded onto Beverly Drive when Lainie noticed Reece staring in her direction. He glanced away, seeming embarrassed at having been caught. To cover, he adjusted the collar of his button-down shirt and politely turned his attention back to Miss Perky.

The corners of Lainie's lips pulled upward as the carriage rolled past mansions decorated in holiday splendor. It was a well-known fact that Highland Park homeowners flaunted their wealth with LED lights and electricity this time of year.

Several blocks into the tour, the driver—a round gentleman with a bulbous nose—pulled the carriage to a stop next to a sidewalk
filled with people strolling and looking at the houses. With his red-and-gold-uniformed arm, he pulled a cooler from the space near his feet. “Would y'all like some refreshments?” he asked.

He pulled several small, frosty bottles of Dr Pepper from the cooler, like those Lainie had seen at the Cracker Barrel Old Country Store. He stood and moved to pass them out to the six people inside the carriage. As he neared, Lainie caught an unpleasant whiff of alcohol. Apparently, the chap's drink was spiked with something stronger than what they were having.

“Oh, let's make a toast.” Miss Perky held up her tiny commemorative bottle.

Lainie shrugged. “Yeah, okay.” Her friends nodded.

Reece's date smiled as if she'd just won the stinking lottery. “Uh, let's see . . .” she began. “Oh, I know. I'd like to toast—”

Before she could finish, a full-sized poodle broke free of its owner and headed toward the carriage. The dog barked, causing the horses to startle. The buggy lurched.

The bottle slipped from Miss Perky's grasp, shattering when it hit the floor.

Lainie and the girl next to her both gasped.

Reece steadied himself. “Be careful,” he said. “There's broken glass everywhere.” He turned to his date. “Are you okay?”

The gal frowned. “I—I think so.”

The carriage lurched forward again, this time with greater force. The driver stood and tried to gain control, but it was too late. He lost his footing and toppled back, landing against Miss Perky with his legs in the air and his own Dr Pepper draining into those pretty furry boots.

Reece's date shrieked.

He stood.

In what seemed like one movement, Lainie handed off her bottle to her friend, leapt up, and in two long steps maneuvered into the driver's seat up front. She grabbed for the reins and pulled back. “Hey, now. Hey, now,” she said in a calming voice. The horses
immediately responded and slowed to a clip-clop just before the carriage entered a busy intersection.

From a seat at the back, one of the passengers blurted, “Whew, that was close.”

Lainie heard Reece ask if everyone was all right. She listened as he calmed his overwrought date, telling her she was safe. “But I'm all sticky and wet now,” the girl whined as they passed a group of carolers singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

Back in the parking lot, Reece thanked Lainie for her quick action. “You were amazing,” he said, his grin releasing deep dimples. “I can't believe how fast you moved.”

Lainie laughed. “Had a little practice.”

“Oh?” he said, leaning forward.

“Are you coming?” Miss Perky asked, clearly annoyed with the way the evening was turning out, and especially with the exchange between her date and the Texas blonde who'd saved the day.

Before they parted, Lainie caught Reece staring again. Only this time, he didn't look away.

The following morning, Margarita knocked on Lainie's bedroom door. “Ah-yee, amiga . . . somebody got a special delivery.”

Lainie pulled her sleepy head from the pillow and perched on her elbows. “What?”

Margarita held up a vase overflowing with deep red roses. Probably twenty or more blooms instantly filled her room with a sweet perfume.

The card simply read,

To the brave cowgirl who saved the day (or night, as the case might be). Would you have dinner with me? I'll be waiting at Wolfgang Puck's at the top of Reunion Tower—6:00 p.m.

A year later, Reece and Lainie rode the carriage through the decorated streets again. This time, Reece brought his own bottle of Dr Pepper with a red satin ribbon tied around the neck holding
a two-carat diamond engagement ring. “With my drive and your spunk, we'll take the world by storm,” he'd said. That was the plan.

Until tonight.

“Wait here, Henry. I'll let you know if I'm staying.” Lainie climbed from the car. She straightened her dress. The light from the streetlamp caught her ring. She counted that a good sign and headed for the Sandells' massive front entry.

She'd barely rung the bell when the door opened.

Glory Sandell's heels clicked against the polished tile. “Who is it, Darla?” Reece's mom peeked around the uniformed housekeeper. “Lainie,” she said, her tone curt. “Reece is upstairs. In bed.”

“I need to talk to him.” Lainie hated the childlike sound of her own voice as she waited to be invited inside.

“I—I don't think that's a good idea.”

“What do you mean? He's my fiancé, and I want to speak with him.”

Andrew Sandell appeared, entering from a doorway Lainie knew led to the dining area. His expression turned to stonelike resolve. He motioned Lainie inside but made their position clear. “Much has transpired this evening. Under the circumstances, we think it's best if you talk things over with Reece later. He's been through an awful lot tonight.”

“You have no idea the implications—” Glory added.

Andrew cut her off. “What Glory means is, we'll need to sort all this out. But not tonight.”