Page 28 of Mountain Summons

Lena

Lena asked herself once more what she was doing here tonight. She never joined her father at public events. But then, he’d never asked her to do so before. Until today.

It seemed the least she could do after the trouble she’d caused. Her father hadn’t said anything to her, but a local newspaper had questioned the use of public resources he’d made in the search for his missing daughter, and Lena knew that had to have hurt him. She also knew the backlash could have been much worse if most papers hadn’t decided to focus on the mysterious skeleton discovery, instead.

Lena got out of her car and smoothed down the front of her dress, hoping to get rid of the few wrinkles that had formed in the short drive. The invitation had readtenue de cocktail.Lena could only hope her simple black dress fit the bill.

Taking a deep breath, she walked through the open doorway into the Maison des Artistes, an old jazz club that had recently been converted into an events venue.

Her father, looking serious and handsome in a dark suit, was waiting for her inside, next to a beautiful woman in a shimmering silver knee-length dress and matching heels. Yvette Legrand. She was a PR expert, and the person who’d suggested that Lena should be here today to show support for the PGHM. As much as she didn’t want to be here, attending a fundraising event seemed a low price to pay if it could help her father and the department.

Behind them was the stage where the auction would be held at the end of the night. Lena had donated a large print of her recent wildlife series.

“Thank you for coming, Madeleine. I’m glad you’re here,” Yvette said, giving her a light hug.

“Lena,” she corrected. She couldn’t stop her father from calling her Madeleine, but she could share her preference with everybody else.

“Lena. And thank you for donating that beautiful print.”

An older couple approached her father, blocking his way forward. Yvette took Lena’s arm and expertly sidestepped them, leaning in closer to Lena’s ear. “I know them. Your father’s going to be busy for a while. Come. Let me show you where your print is. I also wanted to ask, would you sign them before the buyer takes them home?”

“Of course,” Lena said, vaguely embarrassed. As proud as she was of her work, she wasn’t Ansel Adams.

Half-way towards the stage, Yvette changed course, dragging Lena with her. “Isla! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A beautiful woman with blue streaks in her hair turned to look at them. “I know. I can’t believe I’m here either. The things I do for Ry,” she said.Ry. The medic. She must be with him.

“You’ve gone back to blue,” Yvette said. “Your hair, I mean. It looks great.”

“Yeah. The orange really didn’t work for me,” she laughed, her hand going up to her hair. “I guess I like blue.”

“It really suits you,” Lena said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Lena. I’m?—“

“The colonel’s daughter,” Isla said. “I think we all know who we are.” Lena shifted her weight, her cheeks burning. Before she had a chance to speak, Isla powered on. “I’m sorry, that was crass. You did nothing wrong. I just mean, we had no idea you existed, and now we do, and?—“

“Okay. I’m going to stop you right there, Isla, before Lena runs off into the night,” Yvette said.

Isla's mouth twisted into a grimace that was half-apology, half-laugh. “I really didn’t mean it. I speak without thinking, sometimes. Ask anyone.”

Lena smiled. “It’s okay. I always thought I’d become famous for my photographs, but I see now a bigger risk is that I become infamous.”

“If it makes you feel better, the last time the guys were in the news was for bringing an enormous labradoodle off the mountain on a stretcher.”

“Was he okay?” Lena asked.

“The dog was fine. He just didn’t feel like walking down,” Yvette laughed.

“Ry keeps a copy of the article at home,” Isla giggled. “There’s this great picture of Beau, Hugo and Ry, holding on to the stretcher at the bottom of the mountain, just as the dog decided to stand up and walk off towards the car.”

“That can’t be the last time we were in the news,” said a deep voice from behind them.

Lena turned to see Ry approaching, a lopsided grin on his face and a glass of something amber in his hand. His dark jacketwas unbuttoned, the collar of his white shirt slightly askew, like he'd already given up on being formal.

“I’m not counting the chicken incident," Isla said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve met Ry, right, Lena?”

“We’ve met,” Ry said, offering his hand. His grip was warm and firm, but not crushing. Lena was grateful when he didn’t stare at her like she was a sideshow. “It’s good to see you again. How’s the ankle?”

“Much better, thank you,” Lena said, looking down at her ballerina shoes. She wasn’t ready for heels yet, but she was feeling steadier on her foot every day.

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