you right now!â
If it hadnât been for Nan and the kids and the golden retrieversâhell, if it hadnât been for the people of Texas, whoâd elected this man to the U.S. Senate three timesâGarrett would have told Morgan Cox what he could do with the job.
âSit tight,â he replied instead. âIâll call off the dogs and send Troy to pick you up. Youâre still going to need to lie low for a while, though.â
âI want you here, Garrett,â Cox all but exploded. â Youâre my right-hand manâTroy is just a driver.â Another pause followed, and then, âYouâre on that damn ranch, arenât you? Youâre two hours from Austin!â
Garrett had recently bought a small airplane, a Cessna he kept in the ramshackle hangar out on the ranchâs private airstrip. Heâd fire it up and fly back to the city.
âIâll be there right away,â Garrett said.
âIs there a next step?â Cox asked, mellowing out a little.
âYes. Iâm calling a press conference for this afternoon, Senator. You might want to be thinking about what youâre going to tell your constituents.â
âIâll tell them the same thing I told the group last night,â Cox blustered, âthat Iâve fallen in love.â
Garrett couldnât make himself answer that time.
âAre you still there?â Cox asked.
âYes, sir,â Garrett replied, his voice gruff with the effort. âIâm still here.â
But damned if I know why.
Â
H ELEN M ARCUS DUCKED INTO J ULIEâS OFFICE just as she was pulling a sandwich from her uneaten brown-bag lunch. Having spent her lunch hour grading compositions, she was ravenous.
At last, a chance to eat.
âBig news,â Helen chimed, rolling the TV set Julie used to play videos and DVDs for the drama club into the tiny office and switching it on. Helen was Julieâs age, dark-haired, plump and happily married, and the two of them had grown up together. âThere is a God!â
Puzzled, and with a headache beginning at the base of her skull, Julie frowned. âWhat are you talkingâ?â
Before she could finish the question, though, Garrett McKettrickâs handsome face filled the screen. Commanding in a blue cotton shirt, without a coat or a tie, he sat behind a cluster of padded microphones, earnestly addressing a room full of reporters.
âThat sum-bitch Morgan Cox is finally going to resign,â Helen crowed. âI feel it in my bones!â
While Julie shared Helenâs low opinion of the senatorâshe actually mistrusted all politiciansâshe couldnât helpbeing struck by the expression in Garrettâs eyes. The one he probably thought he was hiding.
Whatever the front he was putting on for the press, Garrett was stunned. Maybe even demoralized.
Julie watched and listened as the man sheâd encountered in the ranch-house kitchen early that morning fielded questionsâthe senator, apparently, had elected to remain in the background.
Helen had been wrong about the resignation. Senator Cox was not prepared to step down, but he needed some âpersonal timeâ with his family, according to Garrett. Colleagues would cover for him in the meantime.
âSo whereâs the pole dancer?â Helen demanded.
âPole dancer?â Julie echoed.
Garrett, the senator and the reporters faded to black, and Helen switched off the TV. âThe pole dancer, â she repeated. âSome blonde the senator picked up in a seedy girlie club. He wants to marry herâI saw it on the eleven oâclock news last night and again this morning.â The math teacher rolled her eyes. âItâs true love. He and the bimbette have been together in other lives. And thereâs our own Garrett McKettrick, defending the man.â A sad shake of the head. âJim and Sally raised those three boys of theirs right. Garrett