Gathering String (42 page)

With a vague nod, Sam muttered, “Yeah, I remember when that happened.”

There was a long stretch of silence, each man waiting.

And then Sam asked, even while he scanned the crowd again, “So, what do you think of campaign coverage? Get some good stuff for the
Journal
?”

Leaning against the bar, Jack sighed before he answered. “Honestly, it’s not all that exciting. There’s a lot of waiting, isn’t there? But our coverage is as good as anyone’s. Probably better than most.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam finally took his eyes off the crowd, to find Westphal watching him with a steady, speculative gaze that left him uneasy. With a frown, he leaned over to a huge candy dish on the bar, digging through its contents. “You’re right, about Tess, I mean. I just spotted her down front.” Jack turned and could just make out the top of her blond head as people gathered in front of the dais. “Now, where’s the man of the hour?”

“Beats me. I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“I need to get rolling.” Sam pulled a roll of Smarties from the bowl. “Taylor’s going to give me a few minutes after his appearance. She promised to clear up some rumors.”

“Which ones?” Jack sipped his drink.

“The usual junk. Who'll get Fuller's delegates if she drops out, who’s getting Cooper’s endorsement, that kind of shit.” He took a piece of bubble gum as well and unwrapped it.

“Cooper’s not just a rumor,” Jack said it softly.

Sam stood there for a second, chewing the gum, staring straight ahead. Then he turned slowly, and sighed, “OK, Hoss, whaddaya got?”

Jack put his glass down on the bar and shrugged. “Cooper’s endorsing Erickson. That’s what Swede’s telling the troops in a few minutes. Went up on our website about a half hour ago. AP’ll pick it up any minute.”

“You get that from the man himself?” Sam sounded resigned.

Jack nodded, knowing that Sam rightly credited Jack’s close relationship to the candidate rather than his reporting abilities for the exclusive. Jack came back with “Carly’s doing a hell of a job getting the press to cool their heels, don’t you think?”

The look on Waterman’s face turned sour, but he didn't speak, just snapped his gum. Then he started out through the crowd, struggling down to where Tess stood readying her equipment. Drawing close, Sam watched her, as the following Jack watched him. When she turned and caught sight of them, both men noted the veiled look that came to her face. Sam flipped the roll of candy to her, and she caught it in one hand, smiling automatically when she saw what it was. She didn’t have a chance to say anything before Swede Erickson stepped into the room to raucous cheers and applause.

The state party chairwoman gushed an introduction, and then Swede was at the microphone, the crowd’s cheers increasing. Jack and Sam both pulled notebooks from their pockets, and Swede launched into the usual spiel. “I couldn’t have done this without you. No candidate has ever had a better group of people on his team."

However predictable, it still brought cheers. When they finally died down, Erickson went on. “When I won the caucuses last week in Iowa, the pundits said, ‘What do you expect? It’s his home state.’” Swede went on. “Well, fair enough. Now I’m a long way from home, but my message is the same. And you folks here are as smart and as wise as any anywhere, and you like what I’m saying. You know good thinking, and good planning when you hear it. Because of you, the ball is rolling.

“Later today, the nation will have proof that the Erickson bandwagon is on the move. Griffin Cooper …” Shouts of approval and excitement drowned Swede out for a moment, and he laughed, then raised his hands, waiting to go on.

“That’s right, people,” Swede’s smile was huge. “Griffin Cooper, the Senate majority leader, has joined the team. My opponents have said Erickson may be a good governor, but he doesn’t have any foreign policy experience. Well, Senator Cooper has been on the Foreign Relations Committee for over a decade, and before that, he was ambassador to the United Nations. He thinks I’ll handle foreign policy just fine. This afternoon, in Washington, Senator Cooper will make it official, when he announces his support for my pursuit of the highest office.” The noise of the crowd became deafening, and Sam shut his eyes, his head pounding in time with their chants of Erickson’s name.

As the din slowly died, Swede went on. “When I was a boy, I was told our country was great because anyone with the drive and the vision could be president of the United States. But, as I got older, I began to doubt that. I began to think that a man needed to come from a background of wealth and privilege, that prestige and social standing were the qualities the public sought when looking for a leader.

“My grandparents were poor immigrants, my family simple people trying to make a living by farming and then selling groceries. I have no background of Ivy League schools, no legacy of old money. The only time my father ever went abroad, it was at the taxpayers’ expense, when he served his country during Vietnam. And we all know what that did to him. I began to think that my background, or rather, my lack of it, would keep my dream of serving this nation just that, a dream.”

Tess noticed the quick, questioning look that creased Jack’s forehead, and he pulled the cap off his pen with his teeth and scribbled something down.

Swede went on, “But yesterday, the people of New Hampshire showed me, and the nation, that it is innovative, visionary thinking you want. You want an administration with new ideas, and the desire and drive to make them realities. With the help of people like you, I again believe, and am ready to show the world, that the United States is still a country where any boy or girl can grow up to be President. I thank you for the honor of trying.”

Raising his arms over his head, Erickson stood smiling, Betty and Augusta standing proudly behind him, as the clapping and cheering boiled around them. All three of them, Tess, Jack and Sam, stood watching, Tess snapping off a several pictures. But as the Ericksons moved to leave the room, Jack turned to his wife.

“I need to grab him for a quick question,” he leaned close to be heard over the noise. “I’ll meet you back in our room.” She nodded. With a glance at Sam, Jack hurried after the candidate, along with the majority of the people around them.

He was barely out of earshot before Sam turned to Tess. “Well, that was convenient.” She shoved her camera into the bag on her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I knew you were bullshitting me when you said Bundy drew this assignment.”

He shrugged, watching to be sure Jack went out the ballroom doors. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come if you knew I’d be here.” He inclined his head toward a largely deserted area of the room near the coat rack, and muttered, “Give me a minute, please?” She also looked after Jack, then nodded, letting him lead her to the quiet corner. In the relative privacy, he turned to her and said softly, “I got the package.”

She couldn’t look at him. “You need to understand why I sent it …”

“I do," he interrupted.

Her voice was just a whisper, but the words were direct. “It’s not true that I didn’t love you, Sam. The day I picked up the brush and started working on that painting, it was all about you. And I think it’s beautiful because of it.” Still she wouldn’t look at him. “But I love Jack too. And he is my husband.” Her voice remained quiet, but a steely firmness came to it when she added, “I won’t make a fool of him. Not even for you.” Finally, she stole a quick glance from the corner of her eye and saw him nod. An achingly small, sad smile touched the corners of her mouth. “The painting was made for you. But it’s all I can give you now.”

“I know.” He frowned, unfamiliar with having to struggle for the right words. “It nearly rips the heart out of my chest every time I look at it.” For a moment he was silent, and she thought perhaps that was all he was going to say, but then she heard a gruff “And I look at it all the time.”

She breathed deeply, concentrating hard on a black coat, hanging by just one arm from the rack, the bottom of it drooping to the floor, crushed and covered with footprints where careless revelers had stepped.

“I’m glad, Tess,” he went on softly, “that you’re doing work you love. Westphal’s right,” he sighed, and she could feel how much the concession cost him. “You are an artist. I saw it. I honestly always saw it. But I wanted you with me on the job, so I didn't encourage it. I’m sorry for that.”

It was the purest moment of honesty they’d ever shared, standing in a crowded ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of people, not touching, not even looking at each other. And for a heartbeat, they were closer than they’d ever been.

Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’d better get after this Cooper thing. I can’t believe I let that little Taylor girl lull me. I must be getting old.” She winced at the sound he made, a mockery of his normal, cynical laugh. Then she held her breath, bracing to see him walk away. Reaching out, he barely brushed her hand with his and did just that, moving quickly past her.

As Jack Westphal took the elevator to his room, he thought about the conversation he’d just had. He’d caught Swede's eye just outside the ballroom, over the heads of several Republican Party leaders. Jack held up his notebook, eyebrows raised, and Swede inclined his head toward a set of heavy metal doors. When he dashed through them a few minutes later, Jack was right beside him.

“Walk with me. I need to get right to the airport. What’s up, Jackie?” Swede set a brisk pace down the long hallway, his mother, Betty and several staff members trailing behind. Jack noticed that Carly Taylor was with them, and knew that Sam had been left hanging. “We’ve got to get to D.C. in time for Cooper’s endorsement announcement to make the early evening news.” He stopped suddenly, as a thought struck him. “Hey, grab Tess and come along.” He grinned. “We barely talked last night. Let’s catch up during the flight. You’ll enjoy covering the announcement, and I bet Tess still knows some fantastic places to eat.”

Jack shook his head. “I need to get back. There’re other stories back home, and Tom can’t do everything himself, especially with Laramie trying to help. Besides, we’ve got non-refundable tickets.”

Swede nodded and stopped at the door leading out to the underground parking. “Too bad. It would have been great, having you along. So, what do you need?”

“My first …” Swede’s voice trailed off, and then Jack saw a look of dawning come to him. “Oh my God, that’s when he, he took that trip to Sweden, wasn’t it?”

Jack nodded. “Right. A sick relative or something? I was never really clear on it. He left so suddenly no one even knew about it until after he’d gone. He missed you being sworn in, he missed the parties, everything, remember?”

“Jesus, Jackie, you’re right. When the speech writers came up with that bit about him only going overseas to serve his country, I just didn’t think about that trip.” Swede flushed, looking a little stunned. “I can’t believe I let that get by me. Man, keep it under your hat, will you? I don’t want to get off message to explain such a stupid mistake to a thousand reporters.” Jack didn’t answer, noting the edge of anxiety in Swede’s voice as he went on. “Let’s just hope no one else checks it out.”

“Governor, the cars are waiting,” Swede’s burly personal aide growled the words, and Swede glanced at the door, squeezing Jack’s shoulder.

“Christ, thanks for the heads-up. You sure I can’t convince you to come on the staff?” Jack shook his head, and Swede added, “If I’d only had you eyeball that speech, it would never have happened.” He started out the door, tossing back over his shoulder, “I’ll try to touch base with you from somewhere on the road. We’re rolling.” He laughed, and Jack smiled automatically as the group hurried away.

Now as the crowded elevator made slow progress, stopping at nearly every floor, Jack mulled the exchange. He wouldn’t write anything about the mistake. It wasn’t really that newsworthy. But the oddness of Swede’s reaction to it, the strangeness of his not catching it in the first place, caused an uneasy pinpoint of uncertainty deep in his chest.

When he came through the door to their room, he saw Tess turn from the windows where she’d apparently been standing, looking out. “That didn’t take long.” Her voice was normal enough, but there was a drawn look to her face.

He shrugged. “It turned out to be nothing.” He tossed his jacket and notebook onto the bed. "Swede suggested we come along with him to D.C. I couldn’t eat those return tickets, but it’s too bad you missed a first-class trip back to your old haunts. It might have been fun, having you show me around.”

She came to him, and tucked her head against his starched, crisp white shirt. “No, I’m tired. I’m ready to go home.”

“You OK?” He touched her dimpled chin, raising her face up to see it clearly.

“Sure. I just get a little antsy when I leave my work for very long.” He smiled. “But first, I have to post the pictures I took this morning to the
Journal
. You know what a hard-ass the editor there is.”

He nodded. “You’d better hustle up. We need to leave for the airport in about an hour. I’ll start packing.”

She turned to the desk and the laptop on it as he pulled out a suitcase. Next to the TV, he found the roll of Smarties she’d apparently taken from her pocket. With a quick flick, he tossed them into the trash.

Sam Waterman was stuck in the rental car return, waiting with a number of other people to turn in their vehicles and catch their flights. Impatiently, he pulled out his phone, which, for a change, was charged, and checked in with the newsroom. Going over with Sarah how Carly Taylor had given him the slip, he tried to keep his temper while she whined about the Cooper announcement.