the Asian look. After the second session the eyes strained backward at the corners, and, while wrinkle-free, were grossly artificial. Ol’ Barb had been nipped and tucked and Botoxed without a long-range plan, and the transition simply was not working.
Rebecca took another long pull on the wine. The first time they had eaten there with her parents she hadkicked off a shoe under the table and run her toes up and down his leg, as if to say, “Let’s blow this joint and hop in the sack.” But not tonight. She was icy and seemed preoccupied. Clay knew she wasn’t worrying about whatever meaningless hearings she would suffer through tomorrow. There were issues here, just under the surface, and he wondered if this dinner might be a showdown, a powwow with the future on the line.
Bennett arrived in a rush, full of bogus apologies for being late. He slapped Clay on the back as if they were fraternity brothers, and kissed his girls on the cheeks.
“How’s the Governor?” Barb asked, loud enough for the diners across the room to hear.
“Great. He sends his best. The President of Korea is in town next week. The Guv has invited us to a black-tie gala at the mansion.” This too was offered at full volume.
“Oh really!” Barb gushed, her redone face erupting into a contortion of delight.
Should feel right at home with the Koreans, Clay thought.
“Should be a blast,” Bennett said as he pulled a collection of cell phones from his pocket and lined them up on the table. A few seconds behind him came a waiter with a double Scotch, Chivas with a little ice, the usual.
Clay ordered an ice tea.
“How’s my Congressman?” Bennett yelled across the table to Rebecca, then cut his eyes to the right to make sure the couple at the next table had heard him. I have my very own Congressman!
“He’s fine, Daddy. He sends his regards. He’s very busy.”
“You look tired, honey, a tough day?”
“Not bad.”
The three Van Horns took a sip. Rebecca’s fatigue was a favorite topic between her parents. They felt she worked too hard. They felt she shouldn’t work at all. She was pushing thirty and it was time to marry a fine young man with a well-paying job and a bright future so she could bear their grandchildren and spend the rest of her life at the Potomac Country Club.
Clay would not have been too concerned with whatever the hell they wanted, except that Rebecca had the same dreams. She had once talked of a career in public service, but after four years on the Hill she was fed up with bureaucracies. She wanted a husband and babies and a large home in the suburbs.
Menus were passed around. Bennett got a call and rudely handled it at the table. Some deal was falling through. The future of America’s financial freedom hung in the balance.
“What should I wear?” Barb asked Rebecca as Clay hid behind his menu.
“Something new,” Rebecca said.
“You’re right,” Barb readily agreed. “Let’s go shopping Saturday.”
“Good idea.”
Bennett saved the deal, and they ordered. He graced them with the details of the phone call—a bank was not moving fast enough, he had to light a fire, blah, blah. This went on until the salads arrived.
After a few bites, Bennett said, with his mouth full, as usual, “While I was down in Richmond, I had lunch with my close friend Ian Ludkin, Speaker of the House. You’d really like this guy, Clay, a real prince of a man. A perfect Virginia gentleman.”
Clay chewed and nodded as if he couldn’t wait to meet all of Bennett’s good friends.
“Anyway, Ian owes me some favors, most of them do down there, and so I just popped the question.”
It took Clay a second to realize that the women had stopped eating. Their forks were at rest as they watched and listened with anticipation.
“What question?” Clay asked because it seemed that they were expecting him to say something.
“Well, I told him about you, Clay. Bright young lawyer, sharp as a tack, hard worker, Georgetown
Jennifer LaBrecque, Leslie Kelly