The Marriage Campaign. Michele Dunaway
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lunch,” her mother chided gently. “Your father’s side of the family will all be there.”
From the corner of her eye Lisa caught a glimpse of the tall, handsome man who’d been staring. He cut an impressive figure as he strode diagonally across the field toward the end of the row of cars. The crowd that had braved the weather had been thick, a solid tribute to her family.
“Mom, I did try to pencil in the family lunch, but I’ve got some important conference calls to make as soon as I get back to the hotel. Tonight’s a major fund-raiser, my first since I’ve arrived in town. And I’ll have to see if someone at the salon has time to fix my hair.”
As if proving her point, the wind again tore at her head, loosening more strands. When she’d made the appointment and planned out her day so that she could work in the funeral service, she hadn’t factored in the dreary weather Mother Nature might provide. Lisa was at least grateful it wasn’t raining, taking more time out of a day she wished had twenty-six hours to it.
“When does your work ever let up?” her mother asked. “Never,” Lisa said honestly, readying herself for the forthcoming parental dissatisfaction. “Until the August primary, I’ll be on call nonstop. And after we win that, I’ll be even busier until we win the November election. After that, I might be able to sleep.”
Her mother’s lips puckered. “We haven’t seen you in ages, and seeing you at funerals isn’t quality time. You missed celebrating Easter. While I love seeing Andy and the kids, just having your brother’s family around isn’t enough. Will we at least see you for your birthday?”
“Oh, Mom, please. Of course you’ll see me before that,” Lisa said, acknowledging her mother’s sarcasm. Lisa wasn’t turning thirty until early November, right after the national election. “Tell you what—how about I stop by this Saturday? Herb’s in Kansas City and Bradley’s overseeing.”
“That’s my daughter, the nonstop career woman.” His duties finished, her father came up and embraced her in a warm hug. While her mother didn’t like Lisa’s long hours, at least her former-military father understood her desire to prove herself. He’d been a dedicated career man himself, often spending long hours away from home and his family.
“I see that Herb’s ahead in the polls. How’s the campaign going?” her father asked.
“We can always use more money.”
Her father laughed, but instead of joining him, Lisa pulled her vibrating BlackBerry from her pocket and accepted the call. “This is Lisa.” She listened to Herb for a moment. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. I’m leaving now.”
“He even phones you at a funeral?” Her mother’s censure was evident as Lisa ended the call.
Lisa sighed, the sound lost in the late-April wind. Louise Meyer had stayed home and raised five children, often alone, as Lisa’s father had been away on Air Force business. Lisa had never been sure what her father’s specific job was, but she’d grown up a military brat whose father often didn’t arrive home for dinner and sometimes not even to sleep. Her mother had held down the home front, and having never worked outside of the house, her mother often didn’t understand Lisa’s lofty ambitions or why, as the baby of the family, Lisa drove herself so hard.
“Mom, I had my phone set on vibrate. My clients must be able to reach me at all times. Tonight’s event is the first that I’ve been responsible for here in St. Louis. Entirely my baby.”
Her mother’s sour expression didn’t change. “I’d rather you have real babies. You’re twenty-nine. I’d like some grandchildren before I get too old to play with them.”
Lisa gritted her teeth. Three of her siblings had planted themselves between one and two hours away from St. Louis. Andy, the only son who was close—just across the river in Fairview Heights—had wiggled out of the funeral because of a sick child. As for children, her mother was a grandmother ten times over already.
Andy had provided three of those. While children were a someday goal of Lisa’s, having a family of her own was not an immediate possibility with her travel schedule. And, of course, she needed a man first. Like that one she’d seen earlier…
Time for a tactical retreat. “I love both of you,” Lisa said, hugging each of her parents. “We’ll try for this weekend, okay? Right now I have to go.”
In fact, all around, car engines had roared to life, the mufflers spewing visible exhaust into the frigid air.
“This weekend,” her mother emphasized. “Pencil or type us into that thing, whatever you do with it. Oh, look at that line of cars leaving. Mike, we must get to Jud and Shelia’s before everyone else.”
Her mother took her husband’s arm and faced her daughter once more. “Lisa, I’m serious about this weekend. Don’t be a stranger. We left Warrensburg and moved across the state so we could be closer to our family. Now that you’re living here until at least November, that includes you.”
“I’ll try to make more time. I’ll see you Saturday. Promise.” Lisa hugged her parents again and then headed to her car, a used upscale Lexus that she often chauffeured clients in.
While the car warmed up, she blocked out six hours for her parents on Saturday and entered the information into the BlackBerry’s calendar. She placed the device on the passenger seat and shifted the car into drive.
There was a slight gap between a Lincoln Town Car and the black Porsche following it, and Lisa eased her way into the opening. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and her hand stilled as she began a thank-you wave. Him.
The guy who’d been across the grave site stared back at her, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. His black-gloved fingers drummed rapid-fire on the steering wheel as he waited for her to accelerate. The moment seemed to stretch, and Lisa realized the Town Car had moved.
She turned her gaze forward, took a deep breath and stepped on the gas pedal. She had better things to do than stress over some man she’d never see again, no matter how handsome he was or even if she really did know him somehow. During the funeral, she had missed ten calls, several of which she had to return the minute her family obligations were finished. Other calls were from her best friends, Cecile and Joann. Those could wait, as they often did. Amazing how once you left college, even though you remained friends, you became too busy to see each other as much. What used to be long daily conversations shifted into weekly ten-minute chats, if that.
The BlackBerry also registered that Lisa had new e-mails, meaning it was going to be a long afternoon. She made a left onto Highway 44, deliberately refusing to watch the Porsche disappear in the opposite direction.
“YOU DO REALIZE THAT if you don’t leave, you’re going to be late. Oh, and Alanna’s called three times now.”
The disapproving voice of his fifty-year-old secretary resounded in his executive office, and Mark Smith glanced up from the purchase proposal he’d been reading. Carla stood in the doorway, just as she had any other day during the past five years. The only difference now was that her arms were crossed and she’d lowered her reading glasses so that they hung around her neck by a chain. She arched an eyebrow. “You heard me about Alanna?”
He’d heard her. What bothered him was the first thing she’d said.
“I’m late?” he parroted, running a hand through his dark brown hair as if the motion could make him remember exactly what he was late for. Just because he was turning the ripe age of thirty in June didn’t mean his brain cells had already stopped functioning. Thirty was the new twenty, forty the new thirty—or so the ads and magazines claimed.
Heck, he still was height-weight proportional thanks to a healthy diet-and-exercise regime, had a full head of hair thanks to great genetics and had a ninety-nine-percent punctuality record thanks to his meticulousness.
Mark admitted to being anal about little things like timeliness and he’d even managed to arrive at the funeral this morning on time, not that he’d wanted to be there in the first