Tracie Peterson - [Desert Roses 01] (6 page)

Joel nodded. “Harry Daughtery was then Mr. Harding’s campaign manager. He issued public statements declaring there was no truth to the rumor of Harding’s questionable lineage.”

“But you have proof to suggest otherwise?” Keegan questioned.

Joel smiled. “What need do we have of proof? If the issue is brought up at the appropriate moment, with the most damaging slant, it matters very little if we have to recant our words after the election. People will remember the problem from 1920. If given in the right manner, it will eat at them, wear away their trust in the administration. This, added to other issues of trust, will soon destroy their faith in Harding.”

“Gentlemen, politics is a dirty little game,” Winthrop drawled in a slow, southern manner. “I do despise the use of such tactics, but sometimes these things are necessary. After all, the end results are all that matter.”

“Agreed,” Keegan said, nodding enthusiastically.

Joel thought the man rather ridiculous and dull. He was no different than any of the other men of means who sought to better themselves by aligning their name to that of a powerful senator or governor. But Joel couldn’t fault him too much. Joel himself had come into the game by the same means. His own father had long ago disowned him for his gambling and questionable behavior. When trouble came knocking, Joel had a penchant for not only opening the door, but for making it his bedfellow as well.

“You would dance with the devil himself,” his father had declared on the night he’d sent Joel from the family home.

“Only if he let me lead,” Joel had called back, acting for all the world as if this dismissal from his family meant nothing at all. However, it had meant more than he’d ever allowed his father to know. More than he ever would let anyone know.

Leaving his childhood home in 1913, Joel had quickly learned the meaning of friendship, both assumed and real. He settled himself near Washington, D.C., and made fast friends with the politicians of the area. He cut back on his gambling, or rather, he became more selective with the places he frequented. Early on, Joel realized he needed money to maintain his pretense of a wealthy Virginia son. The scheme had paid off, and Winston Winthrop found him to be a kindred spirit. Hiring the intelligent, quick-learning Joel at the age of twenty-seven, Winthrop had made no secret of the fact that he considered Joel as a potential husband for his daughter, Valerie.

Joel saw this as the ultimate revenge against his father. The Winthrops were worth millions in old money, while the Harpers were new industrial money and didn’t come anywhere near the same income association. Joel’s father would never let the truth of their parting be known, so for all the rest of the world, it seemed Joel was simply an independent, headstrong young man, out to further the good of the family name. And that was just as Joel wanted it.

When the time was right, when everything was in its place
and Joel was the one holding all the cards, he’d make his voice known. He let the world know exactly what had happened. Joel fully intended to return to his father one day, wealthy and powerful. And then he would crush the man, just as he’d crushed Joel on that night so long ago.

“Ah, Valerie has chosen to join us,” Winthrop declared, bringing their attention to the young woman across the room.

As women went, Valerie was a beauty—there was no doubt about that. But to Joel she was cold and unfeeling. She knew her father intended them to wed, but she made her own demands in order to condition her cooperation. She wanted her freedom until she was twenty-five years old. Freedom to play the field, to travel, and to do what her socialite friends were doing. Joel was a patient man. He kept close to Winthrop, protecting him from unwanted attention, while biding his time for Valerie to turn twenty-five. Now his time of waiting was over—her birthday had been last month and the day marked his victory.

He watched her cross the room, working it as she came. She stopped to talk to the older women who commented or called to her as she passed. She presented a lovely picture of health and beauty in her cream-colored dress. Joel had no notion of who the designer had been, but his ability to tuck and mold a dress to Valerie’s willowy frame was sheer genius. He loved it that she chose expensive clothes and jewels. He loved it because it told every other woman in the room how much she had to waste on babbles and gowns. In turn, those very jealous matrons would tell their husbands, and they would quickly realize how very powerful and wealthy the Winthrops truly were.

Still, there was something more to his feelings for Valerie than simply her ability to show off a pricey piece of fashion ware. He wouldn’t say he loved her, but he loved her possessions, and that was close enough. Not only that, but she held great sway over her father. The senator listened to his daughter, trusting her instincts and wisdom. Joel needed her
to be his ally at best, or at worst to be so afraid of him that she did as she was told. He’d be satisfied either way.

Valerie appeared oblivious to his study. Her bobbed brown-black hair gave her face a waiflike quality that suggested helplessness and innocence. But Joel knew she was neither helpless nor innocent. The men got to their feet as she approached the table.

“Daddy,” she said, leaning close to kiss the old man, “I do hope you didn’t wait supper on account of me.”

She smiled sweetly at Rufus Keegan and then turned her charms on Joel. “My, but don’t you look handsome tonight, Mr. Harper.” Her southern belle simper was perfect.

“Might I return the compliment, Val darling,” he said with an emphatically possessive tone.

“We’re soon to announce their engagement, don’t you know,” Winthrop told Keegan with great pride. “I’ve found Joel a most beneficial man to have in my corner, and now I’ll make him family as well.”

“Relatives can be dangerous to trust,” Keegan said, taking his seat with the others. He eyed Joel with a serious expression. “Besides, I thought you had an eye for my daughter.”

“We’re very progressive, Mr. Keegan,” Valerie said, batting her eyelashes coyly. “No sense in settling for one pair of shoes until you’ve tried several pairs.”

Keegan grinned and leaned forward. “And even after you’ve bought the shoes, there’s no sense in wearing the same old pair day in and day out, eh?”

“Exactly,” she said as if to encourage him further.

Joel had seen the editorial cartoon with Keegan’s likeness, and it was apparent he believed in having full range of the playing field. It seemed he thought this might extend to Valerie as well, but Joel had no intention of being made the fool at their table.

“Men make the rules and, therefore, men may break them,” Joel said, looking to Valerie. As if to emphasize his point, he reached under the table and put his hand casually on her
thigh. She did nothing but smile sweetly and look to Joel as if waiting for him to finish his thought.

Just then Chester Laird crossed the room to join them. He brought with him two men who were obviously reporters. One man held a camera, while the other pulled a pencil from behind his ear with one hand and notebook from his coat pocket with the other.

“Senator Winthrop, I want to introduce you to two good ol’ boys. These men hail from Los Angeles. They’re reporters. I thought perhaps we’d have some pictures taken and a story written up for the morning edition. How about it?”

“I’m always happy to speak with the press,” Winthrop replied.

Joel watched as the experienced senator went into his routine. With the other men occupied, Joel took advantage of the moment to secure Valerie’s attention. Squeezing her leg, he murmured, “Where have you been?”

“Miss me?” she asked, keeping up the appearance of complete joy.

“If I find out you’ve been playing the field with those stable hands, I won’t be easy to deal with.”

“You’ll do exactly what I want you to do, or Daddy will find out about the money you’ve been stealing from his campaign fund.”

Joel eyed her seriously and drew away. “Shall we take a walk while the press interviews your father?”

“Why not.”

He got to his feet and helped her with her chair. Extending his arm, he waited until Valerie put her gloved hand in his before leading her out of the room.

“We’ll be back in blink, Daddy,” she called over her shoulder. Then, gritting her teeth, she said under her breath, “as soon as I can get rid of this headache.”

“You may think of me as a headache now, but I assure you, if you ever so much as open that pretty little mouth of yours
to speak out against me in any way, I’ll make sure more than your head hurts.”

“Threatening me—again? How innovative. How thoroughly original.”

He pulled her through the lobby of the hotel and out onto the porch of El Tovar. Grateful to see the place void of visitors, Joel whirled Valerie around and pulled her into his arms. Kissing her without any feeling of love, he released her just as abruptly and smiled.

“Just the same, I mean what I say. Don’t test me. Your father and I have discussed this. Our engagement will be announced the night he announces his candidacy for president. You will wear that silver number with the modest neckline and blush at the appropriate times and appear nothing but the loving and doting fiancée.”

“I’m tired of the Poiret gown. I plan to wear my new Caret. It’s red and has the most delightful draping. You do want me to be properly draped, don’t you?”

“The silver gown is what I want and that’s what you’ll give me,” he insisted.

“And if I don’t, you’ll beat me? Is that it? Not very good for politics, Joel dear.”

“There are ways to make people suffer without ever laying a hand on them,” Joel replied, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t I know it,” Valerie answered snidely. “You make me suffer every moment of every day. If I had my way about it, I would expose your little games and put an end to this engagement.”

“But then Daddy would find out about your less-than-chaste evenings in New York. And maybe he’d even learn about your little drinking problem.”

“You wouldn’t!” Valerie said, taking hold of Joel’s arm. “You wouldn’t ruin his chance at the presidency.”

“But telling him the truth about you wouldn’t ruin his chances,” Joel replied very softly. “There are a lot of parties and moments of public exposure. There are also a fair
number of sanitariums in the northeast. I doubt they’d care much whether your gown was Poiret or Caret. If you want to keep this situation under control, you’ll stop flirting with everything in pants and pay more attention to your devoted fiancé.”

“Does that mean you’ll give up chasing after the Keegan girl?” Valerie asked snidely. “After all, she appears quite disinterested in your amorous attention.”

“I’ll do as I please. I’m a man, and a man has a right to do whatever he likes.” Joel pointed the way back toward the lobby. “I’ll expect your cooperation and public affection.”

“Expect whatever you like,” Valerie said, seeming to have regained her confidence, “but I have just as much dirt on you as you have on me. You’d better rethink your plans, Mr. Harper. You aren’t packing me off to a madhouse, so just get past that notion. I’m not as naïve as you play me to be. I can bite when you least expect it.”

CHAPTER SIX

Alex secured a black bow tie at the V of her white collar. Having spilled soup on her uniform during the lunch cleanup, she was required to put on a clean uniform before going about her afternoon duties. Pulling the starched white apron on over her black uniform, she sighed. The outfit was hot and the day had grown quite warm. Someone told her the temperature was nearing eighty degrees. Luke mentioned they were due for a thunderstorm, but it couldn’t be any worse than the storm that was brewing at the hotel.

For days now she had waited on the Winthrop group. She’d endured Mr. Harper’s undesired attention, Miss Winthrop’s snobbery, and her own father’s deplorable comments. Still, she worked as best as she could, putting a smile on her face and praying fervently for a kindness she did not feel.

Without warning the door to her bedroom opened up, causing Alex to whirl on her heel. “Michaela!” she exclaimed at the sight of her old friend.

“Well, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” Michaela responded in turn. The women embraced as if they were long lost sisters.

Alex didn’t know when she’d been happier to see someone. Pulling away, she wiped tears from her eyes and exclaimed, “Oh, your hair!”

Michaela put her hand up to the short bob and gave it a pat. “Do you like it?”

“It’s charming, but I would never have expected you, above all people, to cut your hair. Your black curls were the envy of everyone on staff.”

Michaela shrugged and tossed her bags to the bed on the opposite side of the room. “I found New York living to be a bit more expensive than I had accounted for. I ended up selling my hair to put together enough traveling money to come
back to the canyon. I wired headquarters, and they told me they were desperate to have me return, so here I am.”

“I’m so glad,” Alex replied. Nothing else could have made her feel quite the same way. “Oh, Michaela, things have been really bad here. My father has been up to his old tricks, my mother is suffering terribly, and I’ve been singled out by my father and his cronies to be their private Harvey waitress. It’s just madness.”

“Sounds like it.” Michaela instantly began changing out of her street clothes. “I told Mrs. Godfrey I’d get started right away. She told me on your day off I could fill in with the Winthrop group.”

“So you already know about them?”

Michaela nodded and tossed her pink dress over the back of a chair and went to the closet. “Mrs. Godfrey told me my uniforms are still here.”

“We didn’t have time to worry about what to do with them. Although,” Alex admitted, “it seems like you’ve been gone forever.”

Michaela quickly retrieved the needed garments. “Oh, I wish we had cooler uniforms. Do you know there are places along the line where the girls wear colorful skirts and peasant blouses like the Mexican girls?”

“No, but how marvelous.” “Indeed. I think we should talk to the management and suggest we have a similar uniform. Wouldn’t that be grand?”