Endless (23 page)

The door to the back office flew open, making
me jump. Ben strode out and left the building without looking at or
talking to any of us. John trailed in his wake. He attempted a
smile and cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you’re all
working. But the wife will have my head if I don’t make this
announcement. We’re having a little social evening Friday, just
cocktails for those old enough to partake--” he grinned in the
general direction of the volunteer table—“and all those fun little
finger foods the ladies like to make. We hope you’ll join us. Just
a thank you for the time you’ve already given and the work we know
you’re going to do!” He laughed, and nearly everyone joined
him.

“Chelle has our address, for those of you who
need it. Seven o’clock, and it’s not black tie, of course, but try
to dress up a little. Y’all clean up nice, so I’m not concerned.”
He gazed around at all of us, and I knew I wasn’t the only one in
the room who noticed the worry lines etched deeply around his eyes.
He gave us a parting wave, grabbed an overcoat from the hooks near
the door and slipped out.

I wasn’t a huge fan of the social
evening—read: boring cocktail party—but I knew in this instance, it
might be vital to my mission.

So when my hours were over, I drove right to
Michael’s dorm. The rain had stopped, but a light mist still hung
in the air. I shivered as I ran to the building and up the
stairs.

Charlie was sitting on the sofa watching
television when I knocked and then used my key to open the
door.

“Hey, Tasmyn.” His eyes never left the
screen. “Michael’s in his room.”

“Thanks.” I slipped out of my jacket and laid
it over a kitchen chair.

Charlie looked up. “Are you cooking tonight?”
The eagerness in his voice was really pathetic, and I laughed.

“Do you have anything for me to cook with?” I
teased. I had a made a few meals for the three of us in their tiny
suite kitchen, and Charlie lived in constant hope that it would
become a regular habit, in spite of the fact—or maybe
because--there was never anything beyond milk, soda and candy in
their fridge.

His face fell. “Orange juice.” His eyes lit
up. “Oh! Michael bought eggs this week.”

I shook my head. “Let me talk with him a
little bit, and then I’ll see what I can do.”

Michael was stretched out on his bed, books
spread around him. He smiled up at me as I came in.

“Hey, beautiful. Did I hear Charlie trying to
con you into cooking?”

I flopped down next to him, careful to avoid
the books. “Yeah. He must think I’m a miracle worker. Eggs and
orange juice. . .transformed into a gourmet meal.”

Michael snagged my hand and tugged me closer.
“Well, you do have special gifts.”

I kissed his jaw. “Trust me, this isn’t one
of them.”

He grabbed my chin for better access to my
mouth. “Want to work on some of your other talents? You know, the
not-bursting-into-flames when I kiss you gift?”

Giggling against his mouth, I shifted away
just enough to see his face. “In a little bit. I wanted to ask you
about something first.”

“Mmm-hmmm. . .” Michael wasn’t easily
distracted.

“Remember that botany party I went to with
you a few months back? The one where I just had to show up and look
pretty?”

“Oh, the one where you smashed the candy
dish?”

I made a face. “Well, if that’s all you
remember from that night. . .”

Michael laughed. “You always make an
impression. Yes, I remember it. What’s the point?”

I needed to handle this delicately. Telling
him that I was volunteering for Remington wasn’t breaking my vow of
silence about this mission, and it was necessary. I told myself I’d
deal with Cathryn later and plunged ahead.

“Part of my assignment for Carruthers right
now is working for the John Remington election campaign. He invited
all of us to a cocktail party on Friday, and I want you to go with
me.”

Michael frowned. “John Remington? That name
sounds familiar.”

I hurried to subvert that line of thought. I
didn’t want him to connect Remington to Nick Massler. “Well, yeah,
he’s the congressman from this district. His commercials are on TV
all the time. So will you go with me?”

He stretched out. “I guess so. I might need a
little motivation, though. . .” His eyes invited me closer and his
thoughts became louder and clearer.

“What about dinner?” I murmured into his ear
as his hands played over my back.

“Take out,” he said, and then neither of us
spoke for a long time.

Down time was quickly becoming a rare luxury
in my life. I dashed from classes to campaign headquarters, with
occasional stops at Harper Creek to make reports.

On Thursday before the Congressman’s party, I
made a special trip up there to check in with Zoe and type in a
quick report on the computer that was approved for this mission. I
wanted to make sure I explained why Michael would be accompanying
me the next night. The last thing I needed was Cathryn harassing
me.

Fee was just coming in as I was getting ready
to leave. I didn’t see much of her these days, and I gave her a
quick hug in greeting.

“You’ve been scarce around here lately,” she
observed. “Everything okay?”

“Sure. Just a long-term assignment. I can’t
say anything.” I grimaced.

“Oh, I get it. It’s okay.” Her forehead
wrinkled and she frowned at me. “I don’t know anything about this
one, Tas, but do me a favor, okay? Be careful. Things looks murky
in your future.”

My heart sped up. “Murky? What do you
mean?”

Fee shrugged. “Just generally, when I try to
get a read on what you’re doing here. Nothing with Michael or any
other part of your life. I can’t see anything with clarity, I’m
sorry.”

“That’s okay.” I decided it might be a
secrecy spell that was keeping the outcome of this mission from
Fiona’s view. I couldn’t worry about it at the moment, but running
into her did make me think of something else she might be able to
predict with more accuracy.

“Fee.” I lowered my voice. “Remember my first
job with Carruthers? The lawyer’s office, the farmer?”

Her lips tightened slightly. “Yes, I
remember.”

“You said you got a read on that, right? What
the nephew was going to do?”

Fee nodded again.

“Did you know that the sale went through? Mr.
Cummings sold the farm to his nephew.”

She looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I didn’t
see that, specifically, at the time. But. . .” She heaved a sigh.
“Yes, I know he sold it.”

“Why did he do it? Can you see that?”

“No, I don’t see the whys and wherefores,
Tas. Just outcomes. Some possible, some more definite.” She paused,
and I sensed that she was struggling with sharing something
else.

“Fee, I promise, I’m not going to tell
anyone. I just need to know for my own peace of mind. Did the
lawyer tell his client what we reported?”

She shook her head. “No. And you’re not going
to like this, Tasmyn, but I’ll tell you anyway, because you’d find
out eventually. That piece of land is really valuable, and it’s
eventually going to be developed by a corporation whose owners
include the nephew, that lawyer. . .and Carruthers.”

I closed my eyes. “So I helped them get a
jump on what was going to happen so that Carruthers could get in on
the action, too?”

Fee looked miserable. “I don’t know if that
was the intent or if it was just a happy accident. But really, Tas,
it’s okay. Mr. Cummings and his wife are going to have a nice
retirement with the money from the sale. I only see happiness for
them.”

I pondered that all the way back to campus.
I’d signed on with Carruthers for two reasons: to use my abilities
to help others, and to learn how to control my more mercurial
powers. I was well on my way to accomplishing the second goal, but
the first one still felt vague.

My parents were happy with how everything was
progressing, They still gushed about Cathryn and Harley in our
weekly phone calls, and they frequently told me that joining
Carruthers was the best decision I’d ever made.

But I wondered.

On Friday night, I donned my hot little black
dress once again, did up my hair and waited for Michael to pick me
up. Sophie looked at me in amusement.

“Look at you, hitting the big time! Party at
the Congressman’s house.” She waggled her eyebrows
suggestively.

“Oh, please.” I flapped a hand at her. “It’s
just a volunteer thing.”

Michael’s knock saved me from further
questions. We made a quick escape and were soon in the Mustang
heading out of town.

“So,” Michael said as we drove off campus.
“What’s my name? And my cover story?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Your name is
Michael Sawyer, and you are a sophomore botany major at Perriman
College. You come from King, Florida. And you have a sweet and
wonderful girlfriend.”

“Aw.” He shook his head. “That sounds really
boring.”

I slipped my hand over his on the gearshift.
“Not if you know the back story.”

I read from Chelle’s directions, and we
easily found the Remington estate. We pulled up to tall wrought
iron gates, gave our names and were given admittance. Valets met us
in front of the house, sweeping us both from the car and up the
steps as they handled the parking.

Soft music filled the foyer. The two rooms
adjacent had doors thrown wide open, and people stood in small
groups, eating, drinking and chatting.

“Tasmyn!” Chelle, clad in a very short red
dress, dashed up to us. “I’m so glad you made it. My directions
worked?”

I smiled and nodded. “Chelle, this is my
boyfriend, Michael. Michael, Chelle is kind of my boss at the
campaign headquarters.”

“Oh, no.” Chelle waved a deprecating hand.
“We’re all just working for the same goal! Come in, have some food
and mingle.”

We trailed behind her and found a table with
hors d’oevres. Michael snagged a couple of drinks from the corner
bar—soda for him, a sweet tea for me—and I glanced around.

“That’s the congressman over there,” I said
in a low voice. “Standing by the fireplace.”

“Very distinguished,” Michael remarked.

“Yes, he is. Oh, and that’s Emma sitting on
the loveseat over there. Ben Ryan is sitting next to her. He’s
Remington’s campaign manager.”

Michael frowned as he looked down at me.
“Emma. . .?”

I shook my head slightly. “Shh.” I heard him
deliberately change the direction of his thoughts and hid a smile.
He had many talents, but I didn’t think intrigue was one of
them.

I introduced Michael to a few of the other
volunteers. We mingled, as Chelle had ordered, until I sensed the
approach of Congressman Remington.

“Ah, Ms. Vaughan. Glad you could make it.
Have you met my wife?” He put his arm around the lovely redhead who
stood next to us. “Mariana, this is one of our hard-working
volunteers, Tasmyn Vaughan. She’s a student at Perriman.”

Mrs. Remington smiled warmly. Her mind was as
calm as her husband’s, and I couldn’t sense any dissembling at
all.

“Thank you for coming tonight!” She took my
hand and shook it gently. “And who is this handsome young man with
you?”

I made the introductions once again. We
chatted for a few minutes about Perriman, about Michael’s botany
major and my pretended interest in politics. I turned to the
congressman’s wife. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs.
Remington.”

She beamed. “Thank you. It’s quite
historical, you know. There is a legend that General Stonewall
Jackson stayed here at one point when he was stationed in these
parts.” She paused and tilted her head, considering. “Of course, he
wasn’t a general then. I don’t know what his rank would have been.
But it makes a good story, don’t you think?”