Paper Rose. Diana Palmer

passed unnoticed by him.

      She was now firmly entrenched at the museum and having the time of her life. She missed college and her classmates, but she loved the work she was doing. Acquisitions would be part of her duties as assistant curator, and she got to work in her own forensic archaeology field, Paleo-Indian archaeology. She didn’t really miss forensics as much as she’d expected to. It was almost as exciting to have access to rare collections of Folsom Clovis, and other projectile points, which were thousands of years old, along with bola stones, chippers and other stone tools and pottery fashioned by long-dead hands.

      Her new phone number was unlisted, but Tate called her once at the museum. She put the phone down, gently but firmly. He didn’t call again.

      Senator Holden did. “It’s my birthday Saturday night,” he said. “I want you and Colby to come.”

      “He’s out of town. But I’d love to.”

      “Great! We can talk about some new projects I’ve got in mind.”

      “We can?” she asked, grinning because she knew how much he loved the museum; it had been his idea to open it. He was a fanatic in the field of Native American culture. He wasn’t Sioux, but his mother had taught on the Wapiti Sioux reservation. Like Cecily, he had an affinity for the Lakota nation.

      He chuckled. “I’ll tell you all about it on Saturday. Six sharp at my house. Don’t be late. It’s a buffet.”

      “I won’t eat for days,” she promised.

      When she hung up she realized what she’d said. She did eat more frugally than before. She spent more frugally than before. Her surroundings weren’t lavish. But she wasn’t having to depend on anyone’s charity. She was twenty-five and self-supporting. It felt good.

      Cecily phoned Leta to let her know that she planned to fly out to Rapid City and drive over to the Wapiti Ridge Sioux Reservation near Custer State Park in South Dakota for the tribe’s annual celebrations. There would be a large contingent of Lakota at the three-day September event, and native dancing and singing as well. She’d already bought her plane ticket and reserved a rental car. She wasn’t going to back out of the event just because she and Tate weren’t speaking. Anyway, there wasn’t a chance that Tate would go now.

      “Tate hasn’t called recently,” Leta mentioned when they’d discussed the event. “I phoned to see if he was at his apartment, and that Audrey Gannon answered. She told me he was out of the country on some job for his boss, Pierce Hutton.”

      Cecily felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed before she replied. “I didn’t know she was living with him,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

      “He’s secretive, isn’t he, baby? I guess he must feel something for her,” Leta replied irritably. “She hates what he is, she hates the reservation and she was barely civil to me when I told her who I was. If he’s as crazy about her as she says he is, she could turn him against his own people, even against me.”

      “Surely she wouldn’t,” Cecily tried to reassure her.

      ely she would. She’s against native sovereignty.” There was a hesitation. “I’m glad you’re coming out here. I miss seeing you. Since you went to live in Washington, I hardly get to have you out here at all.”

      “I miss you, too,” Cecily said warmly.

      “I need something to lift my spirits,” Leta continued. “We’ve just lost the hope of getting an ambulance and a new community clinic, because the funds that were budgeted have disappeared.”

      “Disappeared? Where to?” Cecily said.

      “Nobody knows,” Leta said. “Tom Black Knife, you remember our tribal chief, says it’s probably a math error. I’m not so sure. There are some real suspicious comings and goings around here lately. Especially since the paperwork for the proposed casino was sent off. I guess you haven’t been able to get Senator Holden to listen to you about our side of the story?” she added, a curious inflection in her voice.

      “Matt Holden is one hundred percent against the casino, despite all my pleading,” Cecily said sadly. “Not that I haven’t bombarded him with information. I’m going to his birthday party. Maybe I can waylay him there and do us some good.”

      “Yes. His birthday. He’s inflexible when anything goes against his principles,” Leta murmured.

      “You sound as if you know him!” Cecily teased.

      There was a long pause and when Leta spoke, her voice was strained. “I know of him. Everybody here does.”

      “Why don’t you come to Washington later in the year and talk to him personally?” Cecily asked. “You can stay with me.”

      “What, in that fancy apartment?” she said, distracted.

      Cecily winced. “I’ve…moved. I have a new place. It’s smaller, and a little shabby, but it’s homey. You’ll like it. I have a sofa that folds out into a bed. I can sleep there and you can have the bedroom.”

      Leta paused. “I’d love to see you. But I don’t know about getting on an airplane. I’ll have to think about that. You and Tate and I could go on the town, if I did. It might be fun, at that!”

      Cecily hesitated. “Tate and I aren’t speaking, Leta,” she said tautly.

      “Why not?”

      “I found out who’s been paying all my expenses.”

      “It’s some foundation, isn’t it?” Leta asked in all innocence. “What would that have to do with you and Tate not speaking? So, who’s really behind it?” she added in a teasing tone. “Is it some gun runner or maybe one of those international terrorists we read about?”

      Leta didn’t know that Tate had been supporting her! Well she couldn’t discuss it on the phone. Time for that when she flew out to South Dakota.

      “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there,” Cecily promised. “See you soon.”

      “Okay. Take care, baby.”

      “You take care, too.” She put down the receiver. Leta was going to be hurt that her “children” were at war. She frowned, remembering what Leta had said about losing some tribal funds. She wondered what was going on at Wapiti.

      Saturday came and Colby was unexpectedly back in the country, so she asked him to go with her to Senator Holden’s birthday party. He agreed, but he sounded solemn. When he came to pick her up, she could see how tired he was.

      “I shouldn’t have asked you,” she said gently, knowing better than to ask him what was wrong.

      He shrugged. “It beats sitting at home, thinking.” He smiled wanly. “I’m bad company. But I’ll give it a shot.”

      They left Cecily’s apartment and drove to the Senator’s residence.

      Cecily stared around her at the elegant company of politicians, millionaires and other guests assembled in the huge ballroom of Senator Matt Holden’s Maryland home. Her upswept medium blond hair was neatly done and her knee-length black cocktail dress, while off the rack, was tasteful. But her pale green eyes were restless. She felt vulnerable without her glasses. She hadn’t wanted to bother with them, since Colby was driving. And she hated the worry of trying to wear contact lenses. Besides, who did she need to see, anyway? She and Colby had arrived just in time to wander through the buffet and nibble at the delicious spread. There was everything from caviar to champagne.

      Now that they’d finished eating, she wished he would hurry back with the coffee. She was uncomfortable among people whose casual conversation centered around investments, foreign travel and upcoming appropriation bills. She didn’t travel in monied circles. As she studied the people around her being offered drinks by a white-coated, white-gloved waiter, she grinned to herself thinking that her usual companions these days were skeletons. She glanced at the tureen in