She met her kids at the door. “Oh my, what a beautiful picture that would make!” she cried.
“Listen, kiddo, I’ll be straight,” Matt said to Cameron. “Your grandma fell off her rocker a long time ago. You want to say hi to your silly grandma?” he asked, and handed the baby to Sherri, who playfully pinched Matt’s cheek before hugging the baby tightly to her. When Bella had first mentioned she was pregnant, Sherri had been very alarmed—she was too young to be a grandmother! But then Cameron had come into the world, and she had done a complete about face. Now she wanted all her children to provide her with precious babies, and lots of them. She peeked up at her handsome son, the brightest lawyer in all of Austin, hell, maybe even the state, and saw that strangely wistful look again as he gazed down at Cameron. It made a mother’s heart flinch a little.
“I was going to call you and tell you to invite your friend,” she blurted (and honestly, she never really knew where these little verbal strikes came from).
Matt looked startled; his gray eyes widened slightly as he dragged his gaze from Cameron to her. “Who, Debbie? I’m not seeing her anymore.”
“No, not her,” Sherri said. “The pretty one from the paper.”
“Ooh, she was pretty,” Bella chimed in.
Was it Sherri’s imagination, or did the blood just drain from her son’s face? “I—ah, I don’t know what you mean. She’s just a campaign worker,” he said, and immediately looked away. “Where’s the judge?”
“What’s her name?” Sherri asked.
“Mom, I’m not seeing her!” he protested as he walked over to the kitchen bar and looked at some mail.
“I didn’t say you were. I just asked her name, that’s all.”
“Rebecca.”
“Pretty name,” Bella said absently. “If I hadn’t picked Cameron, I would have picked Rebecca. I’ve always liked that name.”
“Okay, where’s Dad?” Matt demanded.
“In the study,” Sherri said, and chuckled as Matt beat a quick retreat in that direction.
With a look of confusion, Bella watched her brother stride toward the study, then looked curiously at her mother. “What was that all about?”
Sherri flashed a fat smile before smothering her granddaughter with kisses. “Don’t look now,” she said, pausing to laugh at the baby, “but I think your brother might have finally stumbled on The One.”
Bella gasped, looked at the door to the study. “No way!”
Matt emerged from the weekly dinner relatively unscathed, and went through his Monday in a fog, which he’d really done every day since the blowup with Rebecca. He stood in front of a judge, arguing the merits against a summary judgment while his mind was full of thoughts of her. On Tuesday, he had lunch with Ben and two prospective new (paying) clients and wondered if Grayson was having any trouble with his arch nemesis, Taylor. And on Wednesday, while he reviewed the staff billings, he wondered where Rebecca was, if she was smiling at someone, those damn blue eyes sparkling like they had sparkled at him.
At the end of that tedious day, he drove over to the campaign offices and was met at the door by Gilbert, who looked frantic. Gilbert, a former slacker, was never frantic, even when he needed to be. He was holding a little notebook, his pen pressed against it. “This is totally wacked, dude! Do you have, like, a diet tip or something?”
“Excuse me?”
“The newsletter, man! We’re getting thousands of hits a day, and a bunch of people are e-mailing, asking what happened to the lifestyle section. I need a diet tip!”
“Okay . . . how about, ‘push away from the table’?” Matt offered.
Gilbert groaned beseechingly. “These ladies don’t want to hear that! Pat!” he cried, as Pat came in behind them. “Pat, you’ve got a diet tip, right?”
“Do I look like I have a diet tip?” Pat asked. “Anyway, that’s your problem, not mine. My problem is this stupid luncheon.”
“What luncheon?” Matt asked.
Pat rolled her eyes. “Well, Matt, an important luncheon. Rebecca was in the middle of setting it up with the Dallas Women’s League, and I can’t find any of her files or notes!”
“We may have to cancel,” Matt said. But Pat and Gilbert looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Cancel the Dallas Women’s League luncheon?” Pat repeated, as if she perhaps hadn’t heard him correctly. “Are you insane? You think Hispanics are the only vote we need to worry about? You think the women’s vote isn’t just as big? You think women voters like getting stood up by anyone, much less a candidate? What the hell is the matter with you, anyway?”
“Ah—”
“Matt!”
The sharp edge in Tom’s voice startled Matt; he leaned backward, looked down the hallway to where Tom was standing with his hands on his hips. “Hey, Tom. What’s up?”
“If you will join me in my office, I’ll tell you exactly what’s up.” Tom pivoted, disappearing into the office.