Your Planet or Mine? (4 page)

He was from the
Times?
Her hopes zinged up then plummeted. The
Times
was a major paper, though out of the area. It would be great publicity for her pet cause, or would it? With her luck, the guy was a Hollywood columnist suffering a slow week.

“Yes, Jeff,” Jana said pleasantly. Maybe he wouldn’t ask the usual questions: Will you ever settle down? Who are you seeing now?

I’m taking a man-vacation, actually.

The reporter returned her smile. He seemed friendly enough. “With today’s allegations against your father, U.S. Senator Jasper, and your brother, Jared Jasper, for the misuse of campaign funds, do you feel your own activities will be called into question next?”

Allegations?
What allegations? The roar in Jana’s head almost drowned out the mumbling, the startled looks in people’s eyes, the cameras flashing. “Repeat your question, please.”

“Is the so-called spotless, eighty-five-year-old Jasper record in the political arena finally over? Or will this investigation expose what has always been there?”

Freeze your emotions. Appear calm.
All her life she’d been trained to be in the public eye; her reaction to the unexpected question was almost instinctive. “I thank you for your interest, Mr. Golden. I have no comment at this time.”

She surrendered the podium to Steve. “Cancel lunch with the lumber lobbyists,” she told him in a private voice. Her heartbeat was all over the place but you couldn’t tell from looking at her.

“Done. Don’t worry about anything this afternoon. I’ll cover it or reschedule it.”

Today would have seen her up and down and in and out to appointments, committee hearings, meetings and back at the office. She answered with a curt nod. Having someone like Steve on the staff was invaluable. He and Nona, her chief of staff, could empty her day as fast as they could fill it.

Steve turned back to the reporter and smoothly changed the subject to one on which he and Jana were informed, while the circle of people standing around Jana widened, leaving her alone.

In politics, when you were on top, you were there in the company of friends. When you hit bottom, you were on your own.

Normal face
. Keep smiling, and remain pleasant.

Turning away, she whipped her cell phone out of her purse. Before she had a chance to hit her father’s private number, the phone rang. Mom, the caller ID read. Jana turned away and walked off the footbridge where too many curious ears were perked. “Mom, what’s going on? I heard—”

“Come home, Janushka. Right away.” The phone went dead.

Only to light up immediately. Jared. Her brother. “Jana, drop what you’re doing and meet me at the ranch. I’m on my way.”

“For the love of God, Jared, tell me—”

He hung up.

“—what the heck is going on,” she finished lamely. She stood there, staring at the phone in her hand. Dad’s integrity was beyond question. Jared was as full of himself as ever, the consummate ladies’ man and hotshot pilot, but as a National Guard officer and business owner he was as honest as they came. He, like Dad, had never come within smelling distance of scandal. An unblemished public record was a source of Jasper pride. Now this. It was time to get back to the ranch and find out exactly what was going on.

J
ANA’S MOTHER
and grandfather waited for her in the cozy, wood-paneled library. The room smelled as it always did in the cool months—of wood smoke and orange oil. The crackling fire added an atmosphere of tranquility that was completely false; all it took was one step into the room for the tension to hit Jana like a brick wall.

Grandpa sat in his wheelchair with shoulders hunched.
He looks ancient,
Jana thought. Her mother’s beautiful face was chalk-white. She was dressed elegantly in a white silk shirt, lots of gold chains and slim tan pants, but strands of blond hair slipped from her chignon: a telltale sign of trouble in a woman whose appearance was always immaculate.

Jana’s hands were cold as she pulled the heavy wooden doors closed behind her. “Okay, what happened?”

“The Coalition for Higher Ethics came forward with figures that bring into question your father’s campaign funds,” her mother said.

“The CHE?” Jana made a dismissive snort. “They’re a political action group—from the
other side
. They’re lying.”

“Of course they’re goddamn lying,” Grandpa growled. “But that never matters, does it? Guilty until proven innocent in the court of public opinion.”

“When’s Dad coming home?”

“I don’t know,” Mom said with a tired sigh. “He may have to stay behind over Easter in Washington to take care of this.”

Easter recess began at the end of the week. Dad never “stayed behind” during Easter recess or any extended break for the House. As in the Sacramento Capitol, the last couple of weeks before any recess were always packed with things screaming to be finished before the congressmen returned home, but when it was time to go, Dad was home for the holidays. All the Jaspers shared a deep attachment to the family and the ranch, and rarely did they spend the holidays anywhere else.

“Hey…” Tall and rumpled-looking in an open-collared button-down shirt and khaki pants, Jared strode through the double doors, shoving them closed behind him. In one smooth move, he slouched his athletic body in a leather recliner and steepled his hands in front of his nose—a sure sign of Jared’s unhappiness.

He was a Jasper, there was no getting around that, but he was so undercover about it that few people realized he was one of
the
Jaspers. Remaining above suspicion was almost an obsession with him; he’d never wanted favoritism or to influence decisions that could affect his business. Jana had happily taken up the slack for her siblings, whose interests lay outside the family predilection for politics. “Jared, how the heck did you get mixed up in this?”

Grandpa shot her a sharp look.

Don’t talk like a Girl Scout,
he always told her,
or no one but the teacher’s union and local church leaders will hear a thing you say.
“Okay, Jared, tell me what the
hell
you’re doing in the middle of this shit?”

The curse words felt strange on her tongue, but Grandpa nodded, satisfied.

“They say the campaign contributions are from Delta Development,” Jared said through his fingers.

Double D was a real estate development consulting firm specializing in securing public and private funding for projects across the entire central valley of California. It was easy to see the potential ugliness in the charge that Jared’s business was secretly securing the support of a congressman who could influence legislation to benefit Double D’s clients. A congressman who happened to be his father. “Come on,” she groaned. “They have to know you wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“They say I contributed under a fictitious name. Donation laundering to hide the source.”

Jana sat heavily in the chair opposite him. “Hell.”

“Call it what it is, girl!” Grandpa yelled. He’d gone red, white and blue: white hair, his eyes vivid blue, his face red. It meant he was truly enraged, something that didn’t happen very often. “No need to candy coat it. It’s bullshit, plain and simple.”

“Your pressure,” Mom warned him.

He waved her away.

Jana pushed out of the chair and paced in front of the fireplace. “Let’s take this step-by-step. The charges are blatantly false—that, we know. So, we’ve either got an overzealous action group looking for publicity, or it’s a direct attack, someone who wants us to look bad.”

“Like that loose cannon, Brace Bowie?” Jared asked. “Mr. Billboard.”

“He was out to bring me down, not the family,” she pointed out.

“We’re a single entity to most people. The worse you look, the better he looks.”

“And after you were so nice to him,” Mom said. Her mother was as protective now as she was two-and-a-half decades ago when Jana was teased in school about not talking.

“I think it’s too early to point fingers,” Jana said. “Especially at Brace. We haven’t heard anything from him since the city made him take down those signs. This isn’t his style. Nasty billboards are his thing, not charges that could lead to prison, if Dad had been guilty.”

Grandpa growled, “It doesn’t matter who’s behind it. Don’t you see? Even after the kitchen is clean, this is going to stick around like the smell of rotten eggs. If this sways the election this fall…if Jana doesn’t win…” Gripping the handles of the wheelchair, he hung his head.

Poor Grandpa. All his hopes and dreams were pinned on her.

Jana went to him. Kneeling, she rested her hand on his leg. “It’s a long time between now and November, plenty of time to throw open all the windows and air out this stink. Now, tell me, you’ve been in this game a long time—tell me what to do to help get this kitchen smelling sweet again.”

He grabbed her upper arm. “Stay clean. You say you’re the Girl Scout of politics? Be her, then. Nothing less than virgin snow in everything you do and say until this is over. You hear me, girl?”

The feelings that coursed through her now brought her back to her childhood when she didn’t want to be the troublemaker, when she was the Jasper everyone worried about. When all she’d wanted was to be
normal.

Grandpa wagged a finger at her. “No making headlines for anything but the bills you pass.”

“I’ll stay in, I swear. No dating. I’ll be a nun.” It fit nicely with her plan to take a break from dating, anyway.

“A nun?” Jared made an amused sound in his throat. “Don’t you think that’s a little above the call of duty? Don’t set these kinds of examples of extreme celibacy or Mom’s going to expect me to do the same.”

“I’d never expect that from you, Jared,” Mom said dryly.

As Jared gaped at his mother, who despite her angst had cracked a small smile, Jana assured her grandfather, “Just call me Miss Snow, Virgin Snow. I’ll stay under the radar. I’ll keep my nose clean.”

And she would. The last thing she needed was more trouble, especially man trouble, if she was going to keep public opinion on the Jasper side—and the Jaspers out of jail.

A
FTER DINNER
, Jana left for her high-rise apartment downtown. She always had her room to use at the ranch, and she often did, but her cell phone was filled with text messages and voice mail, and she had a pile of paperwork to go through before the next day, not to mention preparing for an appearance with the first lady that included breakfast with a Brownie troop and judging their Save The Environment poster contest. Jana looked forward to a busy night. It would keep her mind from chewing on things she couldn’t help or change.

Her grip on the steering wheel remained finger-throbbing tight as she motored past Evie’s neighborhood on the way from the ranch to the highway. Roseville: a paragon of suburbia. The thought of taking refuge for the night in her sister’s noisy, loving home almost made Jana swoon, but Evie wasn’t home. The lucky girl was in Disneyland on vacation with her kids, John and Ellen. She’d picked a great time to be gone. But then Evie had always had a killer sense of timing.

Jana rolled into the parking lot of the Safeway supermarket in Evie’s neighborhood. “Ice cream,” she murmured. “Must have ice cream.” Yes, Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food…chocolate ice cream with gooey marshmallow, a caramel swirl and fudge fish. Not only would it give her the chocolate fix she needed to get through this, she’d be able to wreak symbolic vengeance on the sturgeon, one little chocolate fishie at a time.

She sat there, the motor running, her hands seemed glued to the steering wheel.

She thought of her normally lighthearted brother’s battle-weary face, how wan her mother had looked, and Grandpa’s rage when he should have been happily tending spring peas in the garden. They were good people. The best. They didn’t deserve what was happening. A weird sobbing breath came out of her. She bit her lower lip.
No meltdowns
,
Jana.
No, they’d beat this thing. All it would take was an accounting of the books. No crime had been was committed. By next week it will have blown over.

Her part in all this was simple: keep a low profile, stay under the radar and stay out of trouble. Be
normal.
Now, how hard could that be?
Chin up.

Jana killed the engine. She opened the car door and let the cool night air rush in. Fog would form before long, but for now the moon was visible. Big and creamy yellow-white, it peeked over the roof of the supermarket. How long had it been since she’d gazed at the moon.
Too long,
she thought with a strange, poignant longing. The conversation she had with her grandfather about looking for magic had brought back memories of another time. Another Jana.

A long-ago summer evening when everything seemed possible.

There’s magic in the air tonight.

A soft laugh escaped her. If only there
were
magic in the air. She could use some to speed along the investigation into her father’s campaign finances.

Pulling her suit jacket around her, Jana took off across the parking lot. The March evening had turned damp and chilly. It was a night to be wearing jeans and a cashmere sweater, not a wrinkled, water-stained butter-yellow suit and low-cut silk print blouse that had seemed so appropriate for a sunny morning’s appearance at a fish farm.

Jana aimed for the frozen food aisle. Number five. She knew it by heart, having made this stop routinely.

A towering, military action figure stood stock-still in front of a display of Easter candy. Clad in dark green and black body armor and a helmet with a gold-toned visor, the figure looked like a character out of her nephew John’s futuristic Halo2 Xbox game. And it was at least seven-feet tall in thick-soled Buzz Lightyear boots. She was no marketing guru, but why on earth put something like that next to the chocolate bunnies, plastic grass and Peeps?

The soldier must have cost big bucks to make, though. She admired the wealth of detail put into the construction as she sidestepped around the figure. A slight movement of his head made her jump back.

“Omigosh, you’re real!” Her hand went to her heart. “I thought you were a giant action figure.” In a way, he was. The boots added six or more inches, but even without them, he’d be above average in height. The armor hugged his body and emphasized broad shoulders, narrow hips and strong legs.
Nice,
she thought. But he was blocking the path to heaven, aka aisle five and ice cream. “Excuse me.” She stepped around him.

“I’ve come a long way to find you,” he said. His voice was deep, mellowed by a slight accent she didn’t recognize.

She smiled. “Let me guess—from a galaxy far, far away?”

“No, this one.”

She laughed and tried again to squeeze past him.

“Jana. Wait.”

She stopped in her tracks, lifting her gaze seven long stories to where his face would be if his visor wasn’t hiding it. “Do I know you?”

He raised his visor. Short brown hair framed a handsome, hard-featured face: cut cheekbones, a strong nose and a classic cleft chin that needed a shave. His mouth was the only friendly thing on his face. Actually, he had a great mouth. It was easy to imagine his lips curving into a smile, something he clearly was not willing to do while stuck with display duty in Safeway on a Tuesday night. For a guy decked out in such an outrageous outfit, he appeared awfully serious.

She turned to go for the third time.

“Jana.”

She sighed.

“Do you not remember me?”

She turned around. “No. Sorry.”

“I had hoped you would…but it has been a very long time.”

She watched his lips form the words. Something about that mouth, his face, did tug at her memory. Had she seen him before? Where? A fund-raiser? If he was an actor, maybe it was at the B Street Theater downtown.

He watched her puzzle out how they knew each other, and seemed pleased by it somehow. “Do you remember now, Jana?” His eyes were intense, piercing green. It made her heart skip a few beats in response. She’d heard the expression wearing your heart on your sleeve many times, but this man wore his heart in his eyes.

No!
She’d made a promise to her grandfather. It meant no flirting with strange men dressed like alien commandos in supermarkets. No flirting with men period. She needed to be good. To stay out of trouble. “No, I don’t remember you. I’m really sorry. Usually I’m good with faces, but I’m tired tonight. I’ve had a heck of—no, a
helluva
day. Nice seeing you again, though.”

With a cheery wave, she left as quickly as she could and aimed for aisle five. Dinners…snacks…bingo! She paced in front of the ice-cream freezer, looking for her target. But reflected in the glass doors, she saw something loom over her, looking at her as if
she
were the target.

Startled, she spun around. It was the Halo2 guy, looking so adorably abandoned and earnest that she nearly lunged at that delicious mouth of his with the intent of kissing it into a smile. The fantasy was so sudden, so vivid and overpowering, that she likened it to the sturgeon at the fish farm and how they’d reacted to her toenail polish. There was only one way to prove she was higher on the evolutionary ladder than they were, and that was by ignoring her primitive sexual impulses.

“Hi, again.” She grabbed a container of Phish Food. “Bye,” she said and let the door fall closed.