Someone To Believe In (26 page)

Her mother’s face indicated she was
struggling with that. Aidan reverted to his peacemaker role. “I’m
sorry, bro. What can we do?”

Paddy faced him. “For one thing, you can let
me move in with you for a while.”

“You could live with me,” Liam put in. Bailey
knew that since his wife died, Liam was lonely.

“Or me.” Dylan offered. “I got Hogan’s room
when he isn’t there.”

“A separation didn’t work out for Dylan,” her
mother added.

Dylan shook his head. “The verdict’s still
out there, Ma. Let Paddy make his own way.”

“The church frowns on that.”

This time, they avoided each other’s gaze.
The church frowned on a lot of things the O’Neils did.

They talked more. Discussed arrangements. It
wasn’t until Bailey had left and gotten Rory tucked in that she let
herself think hard about what had happened. Her mother was so upset
about Pat. What chance did she have with them accepting Clay? He
was a public figure. Who’d been instrumental in her going to jail.
And he was a divorced man.

At eleven she phoned him. “Clay
Wainwright.”

“Hi, it’s Bailey.”

His tone softened. “As if I wouldn’t
recognize your voice.”

“Hmm.”

“It has some worry in it, lady. What
happened?”

Already he knew her so well. She told him
about Patrick.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re close to them.”

“I feel bad. Paddy and Brie were so in love
when they married. Now, because they disagree on her work, they’re
splitting.”

“The work thing’s a tough nut to crack.”

“Too tough?”

“I hope not.” He waited. “I handled today,
honey.”

She said nothing.

“We don’t need to dredge this up now, though.
Let’s talk about Patrick some more. Where’s he going to live?”

“All right.” This was safer ground.

The conversation went well. Still, when they
hung up, Bailey felt sad. Really sad. Tonight with her family,
today at the meeting, highlighted so many of their differences.

When she climbed into bed, she drew the
covers up and pulled the pillow where Clay had slept to her face.
It smelled like his aftershave. That calmed her some.

KAREN COLLINGTON WAINWRIGHT fit her name. She
was tall, blond, and cool. She even smelled sophisticated; her
signature scent was French perfume and cost three hundred dollars
an ounce. Jon used to think his father was a perfect fit for her,
but these days his dad seemed different. Jon guessed he had a girl
stashed somewhere that he wasn’t telling anybody about. More power
to him.

Home for a long weekend, Jon sat in his
mother’s house in New York keeping company with her parents. She’d
asked them for dinner specifically to see Jon since he hadn’t spent
time with them when he was in New York for his other grandfather’s
party. His mother demanded equal time for her family. It took Jon
all of a half hour to realize they were working him.

“So, Jon,” Zachary Collington said easily,
“how are your courses this year? Remember your grades have to be
good enough for law school.”

His gaze swung to his mother, hoping for some
support. She said weakly, “Now Dad, you know nothing’s been
decided.”

“Never too early to prepare, just in case.
Besides, your father told me the last time I saw him he’d be
devastated if you didn’t follow in our footsteps.” Both
grandparents were lawyers.

That didn’t compute. At dinner his dad
had said,
You have to follow your own way,
son. Politics was for me. I knew that, even though my family pushed
for it. But you can still do good for the world in other
arenas.
They’d talked then about those
options.

“That’s not what Dad said the last time I had
dinner with him. I told him I might want to be an environmental
lobbyist.”

“Need law school for that.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Darling,” his grandmother added, “it isn’t
as easy as it looks in the movies.”

“Speaking of which,” his grandfather said to
his mother, “I hear talk of Clay and the vice presidential
candidacy next year in the same sentence.”

“My father’s going for vice president?” Jon
asked. Geez, his Dad had said nothing to him about that. He felt a
little betrayed.

His mother straightened. “Yes, of course,
it’s always been in the plans. I won’t, however, be second lady.”
Clearly ticked off at the notion, she got that pinched look on her
face that meant trouble.

His grandmother looked at Jon. “So, when is
the wedding?”

“What wedding?” Jon asked.

“Your father’s and Jane’s, of course.”

“Dad’s engaged?”

His grandfather frowned.
“
The Voice
reported it the day
after Clay Sr.’s party.”

His mother stood. “Mother, would you come to
the study with me? I want to show you some new books I got for our
charity bazaar. They’re signed by the authors.”

The women left, and Jon and his grandfather
discussed innocuous things. When his grandfather tired of talking
to him, he turned on the evening news. Jon got up and went to the
sideboard. Normally he didn’t drink in front of his parents, but
the whole night was getting heavy. Not that anybody else noticed.
He went outside on the patio to think.

He stood looking at the lawns. It was fall,
his favorite time of year. He remembered his dad taking him to a
pumpkin farm, then trick-or-treating. It had been so easy in those
days. He’d believed everything his dad said; he’d believed his dad
could do no wrong. When had all that changed? When his father
started campaigning for the Senate? When he started spending less
time at home and more in Washington after he was elected? When he
started missing significant events in Jon’s life? He had reason to
resent his father, but he thought they were starting off on a
different foot, now.

On his second stolen scotch, Jon wandered
into the kitchen to see when dinner would be ready. He stopped in
the hallway just before he reached the room. “Do you think he’s
going to marry her?” his grandmother asked.

“Jane?”

“Yes.”

“Probably. He was, after all, seeing her on
the side before things came to a head between us. Clayton likes his
women, more than one at a time.”

“Typical presidential material, I’d say.”

“Hmm, like Clinton and Kennedy.” He heard his
mother sigh. “Let’s change the subject, Mother. I have conflicting
feelings about Clayton Wainwright.”

Right now, Jon knew exactly how she felt.

CLAY SAT STARING at the computer,
thinking
three steps forward, two
back
. Damn it, how could Jon believe these lies about
him? Clay thought they’d made such progress that night before his
father’s party.

He reread parts of the email...

When were you going to tell me about running
for VP? Damn it, Dad, you know how I feel about law school...how
could you cheat on Mom?...I won’t be coming down to D.C. this
weekend.

It didn’t take Einstein to figure out what
had happened—Jon had had dinner with Karen and the elder
Collingtons. This was so typical of them—the innuendos, the
half-truths, but did they honestly tell Jon that Clay had cheated
on Karen?

He checked the time on the computer.
Midnight. He’d already talked to Bailey before he got this email,
but he needed her now.

The phone rang three times before he heard a
sleep-slurred, “Hello.”

“Hell, I woke you.” And he knew she needed
rest. “Sorry. Go back to sleep, babe.”

“Clay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry...”

“Clay.” Her voice was intimate. Sexy. “I was
dreaming about you.”

He chuckled. “Was it good?”

“You were great.”

Another laugh.

“What happened?”

“I got a disturbing email from Jon.” He told
her about it, and out poured his frustration with his family, his
anger, his shock. The only thing he didn’t discuss with her was Jon
bringing up the possibility of Clay being considered for the vice
presidency. He hated concealing that, but it was necessary for
now.

He talked for a half hour; she asked pointed
questions. By the time he finished, he was clearer on what he was
feeling.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she
asked.

“I don’t know. I have a dilemma. I’ve gone to
great pains to keep Jon’s relationship with the Collingtons and his
mother on an even keel. He never knew about Karen’s cheating.”

“Why?”

“He was fifteen at the time. A vulnerable
age. Just wait until Rory hits adolescence. Anyway, we also kept
it quiet here in the city. Bad politics. All anybody knew was there
were irreconcilable differences.”

“It sounds so phony. How can you live in that
fishbowl?”

“It’s necessary to do what I do.” His tone
was clipped.

“I wasn’t being critical, Clay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m raw right now.”

“Why don’t you call Jon?”

“The email asked me not to. He said he didn’t
want to discuss anything right now. He just wanted me to know what
he’s feeling.”

“Then you should respect his wishes. You
could email him back.”

“And say what?”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“God help me, but I do.”

“Tell the truth. He’s twenty years old,
Clay.”

“I know. “ He thought for a moment. “What if
it hurts his relationship with his mother?”

“Maybe you have to make this decision based
on what’s best for his relationship with you. No other adult is
going to look out for that bond.”

“You’re right.” He sighed. “How’d you get so
smart?”

“It’s common sense. When you’re emotionally
involved, you can’t see the forest for the trees.” She waited a
beat. “And something else I do know for sure?”

“What’s that?”

“Your ex-wife must have been a complete idiot
to have cheated on you.”

He laughed heartily. “I like having you in my
life, Bailey O’Neil. You’re good for me.”

“Quite a change from three months ago, isn’t
it?”

“Yeah, it sure is.” A hesitation. “We’re
gonna do this, honey.”

“I hope so, Clay. But we’re getting
side-tracked. Go write your email to your son.”

“All right. Thanks for helping me with this.
Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, love.”

He hung up before it hit him what she’d
called him. Love. Hot damn! Invigorated by that, he turned to his
keyboard.

FOURTEEN

“HERE ARE THE tickets you ordered, Senator.”
His administrative assistant, Joanie, stood before his desk. “I’m
still working on the other thing.”

“Thanks, Joanie.”

She smiled. Young and freckle-faced, she was
nonetheless a good asset to his staff. “That’ll be a great game.
Hope they make it to the series.”

“Are you a Yankees fan?”

“Not born and bred there but I love those
Yanks.” Her comment reminded him of Rory.

They chatted about baseball for a few minutes
then Joanie left; Clay lazed back in the chair and stared at the
tickets. He’d ordered them and with any luck could convince Bailey
to come along with him and Aidan. The latter had been his partner
in arranging it....

“So you’re back in her life!” Aidan had said
on the phone when Clay called him.

“Yes.”

“We tellin’ anybody yet?”

“If I had my way we would.”

“Well, that sounds better. Now maybe my
brothers won’t beat the crap out of you.”

“I hope not.”

“Of course if you could find out where Angie
Everhart lives, that’ll help.”

“You like your redheads, don’t you?”

Aidan chuckled, then sobered. “It’s only a
matter of time before people find out about you and my sister.”

“We’ll deal with it then, I guess,” he told
him. “For now, help me get her to go with us...”

Clay put the tickets in his pocket just as
Mica and Thorn appeared at the doorway.

“Ready for that strategy session?”

Mica went to sit by the window and Thorn
approached his desk. “Better read this first.”

“What is it?”

“The Street Angel’s at it again.”

“Excuse me?”

“She took another cheap shot at you,
Senator. Publicly.” Clay couldn’t believe it. He opened
The Voice
to where Thorn had folded
it. And read:

In our continuing series on youth violence in
the city, we have an exclusive interview with the Street Angel, who
runs a hotline/web network for kids in gangs. Hank Sellers has
spoken with her ...

The article was set up in interview
format:

TV:
Tell us
about your organization.

Briefly Bailey explained ESCAPE.

TV:
What kind
of success rate do you have?

Bailey gave Sellers the same statistics as
she’d given Clay.

TV:
It’s no
secret that there’s animosity between you and Capitol Hill. Is it
true you’re working for Eric Lawson’s campaign and against Clayton
Wainwright.

SA:
I’ve been
to a couple of campaign meetings for Councilman Lawson. I think
he’d make a worthy opponent to the senator from New
York.

TV:
What
specifically do you object to in the senator’s views on youth
crime?

SA: (offering a hint of a smile)
It would be easier to tell you what I agree
with.

From there she succinctly described their
differences. Seeing it in black and white was startling. Finally
the interviewer asked the last question.

TV:
Do you
think Lawson has a chance against Wainwright?