Beauty Queen (50 page)

To each his own, Matt thought.

The second issue Matt had on his mind was Toms campaign, and he quietly, methodically, followed up on his suspicions. In the course of his follow-up, he had a chance to study Toms voting record on hundreds of boring bills, and mentally kicked himself for never having done it before, because there were, indeed, some interesting voting patterns.

In the week before the election, Matt packed up his personal belongings, said good-bye to Ben, and stopped by the attorney generals office on his way out to the lake, where he intended to spend several days, thinking.

That night, he and Rebecca watched TV for a while with Grayson. Tom seemed to be rebounding from the disaster at

the fund-raiser as the election entered the eleventh hour, and had bombarded the airwaves with negative ads. Later, when Matt and Rebecca went to bed, he told her about his visit to the attorney generals office. Rebecca listened quietly, nodding thoughtfully as he explained what he suspected. That actually explains a lot of things, she said, but what, exactly, she did not elaborate. Its water under the bridge now.

Over the next few days, the TV stayed off, while Rebecca and Matt took Grayson fishing, or sat out on the dock at dusk, or made deep love in the early-morning hours, after which they would whisper about their future. Matt would have a little one-man office, handle cases for the poor. Rebecca would ease into event planning, but also focus on her art. They would live at the lake, where they could believe they were on top of the world, safe and sound and happy. And then they would talk about a brother for Grayson, or maybe a sister. Or two. Or three. And then they would dissolve into laughter and love again.

On the eve of the election, Matt went to Sams Corner Grocery, had a chat with Karen and Dinah, and when he came back to the Flying Pig Lakehouse, Rebecca met him at the door barefoot, wearing shorts, a dirty T-shirt, and her hair in a ponytail. She handed him a beer as he walked in. Weve got a new addition, she told him after he kissed her hungrily.

A new addition?

To the family, she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out back, where Grayson was busily trying to wrestle a small weiner dog and the hose that Bean was unwittingly lying on. Meet Radish, she said, smiling.

Radish? What kind of name is that for a dog? he exclaimed, and went to help Grayson tackle the feisty little dog while the regular slackers just lay there, panting indifferently.

Inside, on the TV Rebecca had left on when she spotted the little dog, an image of Tom Masters surrounded by lawyers, walking into some courthouse, flashed across the screen.

In a startling development on the eve of the statewide election, the announcer intoned over the images, Senator Tom Masters was brought in this morning for questioning about an alleged series of kickbacks from the Franklin and Vandermere Construction Finn in exchange for state contracts. Sources tell us that in addition to Franklin and Van-dertnere, other notable firms, such as Reynolds Chevrolet and Cadillac, may also have been involved in the elaborate scheme. An unnamed source at the attorney generals office claims that there is enough evidence to show that the senator solicited contributions from other major Texas corporations with the promise of billions of dollars worth of contracts and a prearranged kickback scheme, should he be elected lieutenant governor. Early voting has concluded and the polls open at seven a.m. . . .

Bonnie was home from Seattle, had finished putting her things away and going through her mail. She had just picked up the phone to call Robin and let her know she was home when she heard the doorbell ring.

Bonnie put down the phone and walked to the door, opened up the peephole, and peered out. Then shut it. And stared helplessly at the door, pressing one arm against it to hold herself up. After a long moment, she straightened and opened the door. Hello, Aaron, she said. But even as angry as she was, she couldnt help noticing how gray he looked.

Just give me five minutes, he said, holding up an aged arm to keep her from shutting the door in his face. Thats all Im asking, Bonnie, please, he pleaded with her.

I asked you not to come here! she said heatedly, as the tears burned in the back of her eyes.

I know, he said, lowering his arm, and she thought, How old he looks. But I couldnt stay away, Bonnie. I couldnt just... fade away without talking to you, if even for the last time. Just... listen. Please listen. And after youve heard what I have to say, if you want me to go, you

have my word, Ill go, and I wont bother you again. Ever. I swear it.

Bonnie stared at him, wondered how many times in her life would they do this. Ten? Twenty? But looking at him now How ill he looks she still couldnt bring herself to shut the door in his face and move on with her life. More than thirty years had gone by, thirty up and down years, and she couldnt let go of them, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped back so that he could come in. Five minutes, Aaron. Thats all, she said, knowing the moment that the words were out of her mouth that it would never be all, not until they both had gone into that long, long night.

Julia London is the national bestselling author of several novels, including the ROGUES OF REGENT STREET series and MATERIAL GIRL. She lives in Austin, Texas, where she is currently at work on a new novel for Berkley Publishing. You can write to her at:

Julia London

P. O. Box 49315

Austin, Texas 78765

Or visit her Web site at
www.julialondon.com