“What’s going on?” It was Pat, who had seen them talking with Tom. Matt told her, and Pat’s irritation was evident. “Is it those high rollers from Houston?”
“Who?” Matt asked, unaware of anyone from Houston in Tom’s back pocket.
“I don’t know . . . a couple of guys from some firm down there. They call him pretty regular. Franklin and Vandermere, something like that.”
The name, Matt thought, sounded vaguely familiar. But at the moment, he couldn’t think; he was too busy trying to rearrange expensive seating for whomever it was Tom wanted to impress. In the meantime, the music had started up; people were dancing in between trips to the barbecue pits, and drinking plenty. The event was going exceedingly well, Matt thought, and figured, doing a rough head count estimate, that it had probably raised tens of thousands, not to mention the amount Tom was gathering by walking around and glad-handing everyone in the crowd. Including Rebecca’s father, Matt noticed, in the company of the man’s his ex-son-in-law. From where Matt stood, Mr. Lear looked even unhappier than before, and in fact, when he made his way to the table with the forgotten whiskey, Mr. Lear was sneering something fierce.
“Bastard is still after my money,” he groused, taking the whiskey from Matt. “Wants another ten grand, like the first wasn’t enough. Let me tell you something right now, Matt. If you ever decide to run for office, leave me out of it. I don’t like politicians and I don’t like bloodsuckers.”
Seemed like a good time to dance, Matt thought, and when Rebecca returned, a frown on her gorgeous face, he intercepted her. “Dance with me,” he murmured in her ear. “I want to dance with the most beautiful woman here.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “You want to dance?”
“I want to make love. But as that doesn’t seem doable at the moment, I actually know how to waltz.”
Rebecca was happy to dance, and they fell in with a crowd doing a slow country waltz while Matt whispered in her ear that she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. And Rebecca, giggling, whispered back, “How do you know? Have you met all the women on the planet?”
“Educated guess,” he said, pressing his thigh between her legs to twirl her around. And for a moment on that summer evening, the world faded into background noise, and it was just the two of them, a lucky guy with the most beautiful woman in the world, turning round and round in their own little happy fog, smiling at each other. They were, in that moment, perfect.
But then the music ended, and the band announced a break, and they reluctantly made their way back to the table, and the perfect moment ended.
Rebecca was dreading the conversation with Dad because of what he might say, dreading looking at him again because of what it might mean. She was desperately worried about him; he looked like hell and was drinking like a fish. But when she tried to ask, he said there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him and to quit asking. Conditioned from years of having Aaron Lear as her father, Rebecca did what came naturally and just stopped talking. Which left Dad the opening he needed to grill her—What are you going to do after the election? Are you going to stay home with Grayson? Too many women rush out in the world and leave their kids spinning. That remark had, of course, infuriated Robin, who interjected with her own, How would you know? You weren’t around so much. And how come it has to be the mother who stays home?
That in turn prompted a rather heated discussion between Robin and Jake and, of course, Dad, who finally demanded to know why they were arguing about it.
“This isn’t how I wanted to do it, but what else is new. Dad, there is something I want to tell you,” Robin said.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if we might have your attention please!” Gilbert suddenly called from the stage.
Ah, for the love of God! “Robin, not now!” Rebecca cried.
“Tell me what?” Dad demanded as Harold walked up, whispered to Rebecca they were next.
“Will you calm down?” Robin said to her father.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Gilbert called again, and the crowd began to simmer down and turn their collective attention to the stage.
“Great. Your timing is impeccable, Robin. We’ve got to go,” Rebecca hissed as Matt reached for her arm, urging her up and toward the stage.
“Please welcome Mr. Doug Balinger of the Texas Democratic Party, for a few remarks,” Gilbert said. Polite applause went up as Doug took the stage.
“Good evening, folks. I am much honored to be here tonight representing Texas Democrats,” he began, and while he expounded on what the party thought of the future of Texas, Tom’s little team gathered around him while he reviewed his notes.
“So how do I look?” he asked, sounding nervous, which surprised Rebecca greatly. Of all the times she had been with him and seen him do his thing, he hadn’t exactly been articulate, but he had never been short of completely full of himself.