“I do,” Tom said, and eagerly stuck out his hand, although Matt knew damn well he didn’t have a clue who Gambofini was.
“Ah,” said Judge Gambofini, eyeing Tom as he shook his hand, then slanted a gaze at Matt, clasped his hands behind his back, and rocked back and forth on his tiny feet. “So I guess the rumors about your political aspirations are true.”
“What rumors are those?” Tom asked, planting his hands on his broad hips to better consider both men.
“Nothing but a little courthouse gossip,” Gambofini chuckled. “If you boys will excuse me, I’m going to get me some of that brisket before it’s all gone,” he said, and smirked at Matt as he walked on.
Great. This would be all over the courthouse come Monday.
“Hey, this is fantastic,” Tom said, looking around at the decorations. “What a crowd! This is exactly the kind of thing we need to be doing. I want to congratulate this girl,” he said as Rebecca turned around. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Mrs. Reynolds!”
“Lear,” she reminded him as he wrapped a big burly arm around her shoulders, squeezing so tightly that Rebecca winced at his strength. “It was really very easy to do.” She looked at Matt and said, “People make these things out to be a lot harder than they actually are.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Tom laughed, and let her go. “So where’s our hostess?”
“She’s in the dining area. Let’s go find her,” she suggested, and the two of them walked off without sparing so much as a glance at Matt.
“Is this for real?” This, from Pat, in the company of Angie, who had walked up to stand next to Matt and gape at the place. “I thought this was a meeting,” she said, tugging at the jacket of her plain gray suit.
“You and me both.”
“I think it’s totally cool,” Angie said. Her hair was jet black for the occasion. “I’ve never played bingo before,” she added as she wandered off to have a look around. Pat and Matt looked at each other; Pat shrugged, tugged on the jacket again. “Oh well . . . I guess when in Rome, right?” She followed Angie.
“When in Rome, my rosy red ass,” Matt muttered, and turned around, noticed Rebecca’s son again. The kid was arranging new cards and was apparently getting a jump on the competition by marking some numbers before the game began. “Hey,” Matt said.
“Hey,” the kid responded without looking up.
“Remember me?”
He frowned a little. “Sort of.”
“I sort of remember you, too,” Matt said, and gave in, pulling up a chair. “Remind me what your name is.”
“Grayson. What’s yours?”
“Matt.”
“Excuse me? Hello?” One of the old women was peering down at him through enormous pink-rimmed glasses. “I’m Lil Stanton. And who might you be?”
“Matt Parrish,” he said, coming to his feet and extending his hand.
Lil Stanton looked at his hand, then at Grayson. “Do you know my great-grandson?”
“Sort of. Right, buddy?”
Grayson shrugged.
“I work with his mom on Senator Masters’s campaign.”
“Oooh,” Lil Stanton trilled, brightening instantly. “That’s so lovely. I so enjoy meeting Rebecca’s friends! I’m her grandma. You can call me Lil—and that’s her grandpa up there on the stage,” she said, her smile fading a little. “Just loves the limelight, that old fool. And this is Rebecca’s good friend Jo Lynn.”
“Speaking of which,” said the other woman, who was wearing, Matt couldn’t help but notice, a tie-dyed shirt, “I best get up there. I’m marking the board next session.”
Lil Stanton smiled at Matt, then made a show of arranging her next session sheets. Matt and Grayson sat in silence for several minutes, watching her align her stuffed bears, until Lil suddenly said, “Oh my . . .” She looked at Matt, blinking big blue eyes magnified through thick glasses. “I think Elmer was right about those beans. Would you mind watching Gray for a moment?”
Matt never got the chance to answer—Lil was off like a shot, one hand on her belly.
Grayson watched her disappear into the hall, then turned his attention back to his cards and methodically went down a row of N numbers, marking them all.
“So, you having any luck?” Matt asked.
Grayson shrugged. “I don’t really like this game.”
“I don’t like it, either,” Matt confided. “Too weird.”
Grayson stopped marking his card and looked at Matt from the corner of his eye. “Mom said there might be someone to play with, but there’s not.”
“Someone to play with?” Matt twisted around, saw that Rebecca and Tom were back in the bingo hall talking to a lady on a scooter. He shoved his hand in his pocket, withdrew several peppermints he had picked up at lunch. “Want one?” he asked Grayson as he popped one into his mouth.
The child eyed the candy very closely. “I’m not supposed to eat it.”
“Oh, yeah? Why not?”
“‘Cuz there’s something wrong with my teeth. Candy hurts them.”
“Ah,” Matt said, and unwrapped one, holding it out. “Live dangerously. This won’t hurt you.”