Leah's father raised his glass of wine to her, drawing her attention back to the present. "To my beautiful, brilliant daughter. Here's hoping that the future will bring us much closer."
She touched her glass to his, but did not drink. Instead, she placed it aside and sat back in her chair. "What's this all about, Dad? The last time we had dinner together, Mom was still alive. Gee, that must have been four years ago, when the two of you flew down to
College Station
for my graduation."
"You're my daughter, for God's sake. I have a right to see you occasionally." He laughed. "Is there some law against it?"
"Senator, you never do anything without a motive. Remember? You're too busy to fit such normalities as having dinner with your family into your hectic schedule."
"Good Lord. You sound like your mother." He gave her a thin smile and a slight narrowing of his eyes. "The two of you were always blessed with a razor-sharp wit, not to mention an equally destructive tongue. But tonight I bow to you. I did not, regretfully, spend enough time at home with my family."
Foster finished off his glass of wine. "So how is the new job going?"
"I haven't actually started practicing yet. Simply assisting Jake. Until my state license comes through I don't dare even take a horse's temperature."
"But the money is good?"
"It's steady and reliable. The work is hard and occasionally heartbreaking. That, however, is nothing new."
"Which brings me to the basic reason for asking you here tonight."
"Ah. I knew there had to be some ulterior motive. What do you want from me, Senator? Don't tell me you've decided to get back into the horse business. Perhaps you want me to do a prepurchase exam on an incredible Arabian stallion you found in
Cairo
? I warn you, I'm not cheap. And I don't lie. I'm known in the business, at least in
Dallas
, for being brutally honest."
"No horses, Leah. I'm done with that. Besides, your mother was far crazier about the horses than I ever was. This time I'm going to do something for
you.
What would you think about working for me, in
Washington
? I need someone trustworthy and dedicated, someone willing to look out for her old man's tail when it gets in a crack. I could start you off at fifty thousand a year, living accommodations included. Of course, it would mean your moving permanently to
Washington
, rubbing elbows with men in high places."
"I've heard there is a lot more getting rubbed in
Washington
than elbows these days."
"I'll point out that D.C. offers certain advantages for your son."
"His name is Valentino, Dad; just in case you forgot."
"Of course I haven't forgot. For God's sake, Leah, why must you always get so defensive every time I bring up the boy?"
"The fact that you haven't asked about his welfare since I sat down here thirty minutes ago might have something to do with it."
"Sorry. I've not been blessed with the gift of idle chitchat. You know that."
"I never considered asking about the welfare of your only grandchild nothing more than mere chitchat." She reached for her wine, her throat growing tight with emotion. "Let me save you the trouble. Val is doing beautifully. He's beginning to read. His speech has improved tremendously. He'll never walk, of course, but the therapy he receives every day helps his hand coordination tremendously. We finally managed to get the seizures under control; the medication for that is astronomical, but necessary. There are medications available now that help to relieve the rigidity of the muscles. They're still in a somewhat experimental stage…" She drank again, more deeply, before adding, "The series of shots is given every three months: seven shots in each arm and leg, directly into the muscles, at a cost of two thousand dollars a series. And there's no guarantee that they'll work for every case. But when they do, the results allow the individual a much greater range of movement and balance, not to mention comfort.
"Val enjoys school very much. He's the teacher's pet. He's attending summer school now, where the emphasis is more on social activities rather than studies. There are swimming activities and games that help with coordination and sportsmanship. What's most important is the time he spends with other children like himself. It assures him that he's not alone in the world. That there are others, like him, who are … special. Of course, the program isn't subsidized by the government, but by private donations. Which is why Shelley Darmon contacted you, in hopes you would propose to the state legislature the possibility of the state footing the bill for the program. The rattletrap bus they are forced to ride is inadequate, to say the least. It's continually breaking down. It's not air-conditioned. And while there have been alterations in the bus to accommodate the special needs of the children, it's still lacking the appropriate appointments to guarantee their safety one hundred percent."
"I'll look into it," he said in his typical dismissive tone that told her he would not look into it, that as soon as they walked out the door the subject would be buried in his mind.
The waitress appeared to take their order. As her father quickly perused the menu one last time, Leah sat back in her chair and watched him, the same way she had often observed her mother studying him: with a sense of curiosity and confusion, disappointment and frustration settling like stone in her chest. When, she wondered, had her father become the cold, remote, and indifferent man who now sat before her? Had he always been so emotionally unattached to everything but power? Surely not. Knowing her mother, who thrived on attention, Leah could not imagine the woman marrying for any other reason but love.
"What happened between you and Mother?" she asked when the waitress retreated. "When, exactly, did you fall out of love?"
If he was surprised by the suddenness of her unusual question, he didn't show it, just wiped his mouth with the white linen napkin and laid it in his lap. "Your mother and I had different interests. That didn't necessarily mean we didn't care for one another."
"I never saw you touch her. You slept in separate bedrooms since I was ten."
"I lived a very hectic and intrusive life, Leah. Always getting calls in the middle of the night. I simply didn't wish to disturb her. Besides, it afforded both of us much greater freedom."
"Did it matter to you that she took lovers?"
He laughed. "Sweetheart, your mother was welcome to entertain herself any way she wanted … as long as it kept her pacified and sober and away from the American Express card."
She supposed she should have been surprised by his
blasé
attitude. But she wasn't. Just irritated that he didn't have the decency to indicate even the slightest annoyance over the fact that his wife had been unfaithful, which only proved all the more that he had not cared a whit about her.
"You were never jealous? Not even a little?" she pressed.
"I simply expected her to be discreet, and to exhibit a modicum of selectivity in the men she chose to sleep with."
"Is that why you hated Jefferson Whitehorse so much? Because you didn't like Mother fucking an Indian?"
For the first time in her life Leah watched her father's face flood with dark color. He sat back in his chair, shoulders squared, jaw bulging. Even the whites of his eyes turned blood red as he fixed her with so smoldering a look she wondered if he would actually explode in this room full of prospective voters.
Bingo!
she thought. At long last she had finally discovered his Achilles' heel. A spiteful satisfaction surged like a bubble in her chest.
"For the love of God, Leah, is that any way to talk? I thought your mother had taught you better etiquette."
"My mother taught me several four-letter words, some of which would make your blood pressure go up even more. Would you like to hear them? They were mostly directed at you anyway."
"Fine," he snapped. "As long as you want to bring up the Foster women's penchant for screwing Indians, why don't you enlighten me as to your plans with Johnny Whitehorse?"
"I wondered how long it would take you to get around to Johnny."
"You've been seen with him."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Maybe Shamika is right. Maybe you
have
planted a bug under my bed."
"How could you," he said through his teeth, glancing around to make certain his tone had not caught anyone's attention. "You know what that son-of-a-bitch is trying to do to me, and yet you still…"
"What is he trying to do that any activist who truly cares about a cause wouldn't do? You screwed over his people, Senator. You bankrupted an entire populace. Why?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Leah?"
"I'm talking about the game you played with the gambling issue. Your stalling the legislature's legalizing state gambling until the tribal investors of the Apache Casino and Resort rolled over, giving Formation Media full ownership of the development."
Foster tossed his napkin on the table, and, for an instant, looked as if he would spring from his chair and make a quick exit from the restaurant. "How dare you," he uttered under his breath, pinning her with his blue eyes that, despite the fire of anger in his face, looked frigid. The look set her back and made her heart skip with disconcertment. A chill as cold as icemelt sluiced through every vein and bone and muscle.
"Fine, sweetheart. If that's the way you want to play this, fine. Give your boyfriend a message for me. I won't stand for his slandering me. I won't tolerate the charges he's made about collusion. If he thinks he's going to unseat me the next election he'd better be prepared to lock up his closets, because I don't intend to leave any rock unturned in my efforts to smash his character and reputation—starting with the death of Dolores Rainwater."
As steadily as possible, she said, "You still haven't answered my question, Senator. Exactly what was your motive behind stalling the gambling issue?"
He pointed one trembling finger in her face. "I've offered you a job, Leah. A new beginning. Financial stability. If I were you I would consider it. On the other hand, if you take a stand with
Whitehorse
against me, in fact, if you continue to see him at all, I sever all ties between us. You are no longer my daughter. Think about that while you enjoy your dinner."