When Love Calls (10 page)

Midway through the list, he noticed that his secretary highlighted a personal message from Louise Gates. He opened and read the e-mail immediately, then responded. But his finger hovered over the send key for several seconds as he paused to reconsider.

Pressing the key could open the floodgates and irrevocably change his life. Was he ready for that and all it entailed? Louise was persistent, determined and relentless. If he pressed this key, there would be no turning back.

He walked over to the window and looked out, not really seeing the breathtaking beauty of the city from the Capitol Building. Considering his options, he realized that enlisting her assistance was no great calamity, despite what Trey said.

He began weighing his options, considering the pros and cons of his actions, then decided quickly. He walked back over to his desk and pressed the send key. The message was sent. It was done. After a brief moment’s reflection, he sat down and continued reading the rest of the messages when he came across another oddly familiar name, Sundari Adia Nomalanga. He stopped.

He smiled instantly, then opened the message. It had only five words. Coffee. Sunday. Nine. Caféhill. Adia. He smiled again, how could he possibly refuse? He typed in his reply. Delighted. Anticipating. Sunday. Randolph. He said it aloud as he typed.

“Sunday?” Kent asked as he walked in and took a seat across from the desk, then opened his PDA and began examining the small screen. “Scheduling a meeting for Sunday?”

“Yes, something like that,” Randolph said. Kent Larson was his right hand, his confidant and the one person he explicitly trusted. But until he knew what was going on, he decided to keep this private meeting to himself.

“Looks like you’re clear. Shall I make arrangements?”

“No, not this time, I’ve already taken care of it.”

“Any reservations needed?”

“No.”

“Good. Okay, I have the financial and GAO report you wanted,” Kent said as he placed the folders on his desk. “And here are the amendments and the itinerary for the conference next week.”

“Excellent, thank you,” Randolph said as he took the top report, opened it and began reviewing it. “Anything else?”

Kent nodded, never taking his eyes off the small PDA screen. “Yes, I cleared your schedule next weekend and booked you on a flight to San Francisco Friday afternoon.”

“San Francisco?”

“Yes,” Kent said, looking up at him. “You mentioned that you needed a quick vacation.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Oh, but we’d better make it for the following weekend. I’ve been invited to poker night with the guys.”

“Even better. Matthew Gates is having a private fund-raiser that Saturday evening. Your attendance would reflect well in the district, not to mention add weight to several upcoming local campaigns.”

“Okay, tell him I’ll be there.”

“Will you be bringing a guest?” Kent asked.

Randolph paused for a moment. “Leave it open,” he finally said, then looked at the five words again. Kent nodded and made an adjustment. “Anything else?” Randolph asked.

“Yes, Louise Gates and Otis Wheeler called, accepting your invitation to lunch Monday afternoon. She also asked to take a tour of the Capitol Building if possible.”

“Will you be able to set that up?”

“Already done,” Kent said.

“Good.”

“This is the same Louise Gates as Mamma Lou, the matchmaker, correct?”

“Yes, Matthew Gates’s mother.”

“The same woman you’ve been hiding from for the past year and a half, correct?”

“Yes,” Randolph said, seeing exactly where Kent was going with this conversation.

“And now you’re inviting her to see you?”

“Yes,” Randolph said, smiling at Kent’s confusion.

“A matchmaker?” Kent asked.

“Mamma Lou prides herself on finding the perfect mate.”

“Is she any good?”

“Apparently so. She’s fixed up at least five couples that I know of—Tony and Madison, Raymond and Hope, Dennis and Faith, Kennedy and Juwan and, of course, Juliet and J.T.”

“Sounds as if she’s been busy.”

“She has.”

“It also sounds as if she’s pretty good.”

“She is indeed.” Randolph smiled.

“So, interested in her services?”

“More like being kind to a nice lady,” Randolph said.

Kent nodded as he always did when Randolph evaded a direct question. “As I said, I’ve already set up a Capitol tour for two on Monday afternoon. I’ll have one of the assistants handle it.”

“No. I’ll take care of it personally,” Randolph said.

Kent looked up from his PDA again. The confused frown on his face was a rarity. His job was to anticipate the senator’s requests before asked. This took him completely off guard.

“You’ll do it?” he asked surprised.

“Yes.”

“Uh-h-h,” Kent stammered. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“You seem distracted and you once remarked that you’d rather be boiled in a vat of oil than take a Capitol tour.”

“Consider this a rarity,” Randolph said, tossing a folder on his desk and leaning back in the chair.

“Will do. Is that it?” Kent asked.

“Yes. Why don’t you head on home? I’ll lock up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want to answer a few e-mails before I leave.”

“Okay, good night,” Kent said, placing his PDA in his jacket pocket and securing his briefcase. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, you, too.”

Randolph watched as Kent grabbed his suit jacket and walked out. He latched the main office door securely behind him. Randolph, now alone in the suite of offices, rested his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

The usual mishmash of images crisscrossed his mind—work, home, the vineyard. Then quite unexpectantly, another image appeared. Alyssa’s smiling face. He opened his eyes quickly.

Chapter 7

“H
i, Dad,” Alyssa mouthed through the closed glass door as the curtain pushed back into place.

Benjamin Wingate yawned wide as he unlocked and opened the door for her. “Alyssa, what are you doing here this early? Why didn’t you come in through the apartment door?”

“I figured you’d be down here already, so I just thought I’d stop by and say hi to my favorite guy.” She kissed his unshaved cheek and grimaced at the feel of the rough, scratchy stubble on his face.

“Favorite guy, what’s that? Is there another guy in your life that I should know about?” Benjamin asked, going behind the bar and grabbing a newly washed glass from the tray.

“Oh, sure, dozens, hundreds, thousands,” she said, dropping her purse on the bar counter and sitting on the bar stool beside an open newspaper and a half-empty cup of coffee.

“That many, huh?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of orange juice and filling the glass.

“Well, actually just maybe one in particular,” Alyssa continued as her father placed a napkin and the glass of juice in front of her.

“Who’s that?” he asked, coming back around to the front of the bar and sitting next to her. “I hope he’s good enough.”

“He works for the federal government.”

“Everybody works for the federal government.”

“Ah, but he’s a U.S. senator,” she said, sounding impressed.

“A senator? You could do much better.”

“Now you sound like Grandma.”

“Who else you got?”

“No, now, wait a minute. Let’s not dismiss him so quickly.”

“And why not?” Benjamin asked, still joking around. “Most politicians are just self-serving con men, looking to line their own pockets.”

She took a sip of the fresh-squeezed orange juice. “He’s different. I think he’s got his own money. He lives in California and he’s gorgeous.”

“Well, I guess if I have to lose my only daughter to someone, at least he’s gorgeous.” They smiled and laughed at the game they played. “So, what’s really up?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, then sighed deeply. Benjamin looked at her sternly. “Well, nothing, really. I’m just a little worried about Grandma, that’s all.”

“What’s she doing now?” Benjamin asked, then sipped his coffee and glanced at the newspaper.

“I think her Alzheimer’s is getting worse. She can be lucid for long periods of time. Then all of a sudden she’s back to being buried in her memories,” she said. Benjamin shuffled to the next section, scanned it then turned the page. He showed no real reaction, but Alyssa knew that he’d heard her. “I went over Friday after work, and she was passed out in the attic.”

He stopped looking at the newspaper and looked over at her. “What do you mean, passed out?”

“I mean, passed out, exactly that. She was passed out. At first, I was afraid that she was, you know…but she was just asleep. But it was hot up there, like over a hundred degrees or something. She was just lying there.”

“Why didn’t she open the windows or turn the fan on?”

“She said she kept meaning to ask you to put one in, but she forgot to. So I’m asking you, can you please put an attic fan in for her.”

“I can’t do that, baby.”

“Daddy, I know you and Grandma have your drama, but can’t you just let her—”

“It’s not about our drama, Alyssa. The city code will only allow one fan in an attic that size.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I put a fan in that attic about two years ago. It was already over the size limit, but it was more efficient.”

“You mean, there’s already a fan there?”

“For two years now.”

“She said she didn’t have one,” Alyssa said, looking at her father. “See, she doesn’t even know what she has. She’s getting worse. I’m glad I decided to move back in with her.”

Benjamin looked at her, shaking his head, obviously opposed to the idea. “I’m still not happy about that.”

“I know, Dad. But I didn’t know what else to do. I’m afraid that she’s gonna fall or walk off or start a fire or something worse. I have to move back in with her.”

“Have you considered putting her away?”

“Putting her away?” she repeated uneasily.

“You know what I mean, in a nursing home.”

“I did, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said that there’s nothing wrong with her. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I definitely know how she is,” Benjamin said.

“But she’s right, in a way. All she needs is a little help, that’s all. She’s not that far gone. All she needs is to have someone look after her, keep an eye on her.”

“That’s what assisted-living nursing homes are for, Alyssa. Who better to take care of her than professionals?”

“I can’t do that, Dad, at least not now. She’s my grandmother. Besides, I’m a professional. I’m still a registered geriatric nurse.”

“Are you ready to give up your life full-time? Because that’s what you’re saying, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

“She gave up her life for me.”

“You were a child, Alyssa, barely four years old. You don’t owe her your life now. There are plenty of reputable nursing homes in the area.”

“No, I can’t do that. She gave me power of attorney and I’m responsible for her.”

“That’s why you need to do this.”

“Is this payback, Dad, for everything in the past?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this has nothing to do with the past or with our drama. This has everything to do with you giving up the rest of your life.”

“You know what, I can’t do this right now. I just came by to ask you to put a fan in the attic and, since it’s already done…” She slid off the stool.

“Baby,” Benjamin began, holding Alyssa’s hand gently, “Allie and I will probably never get along, but this has nothing to do with all that. This is about you and your life and how I don’t want to stand by and see you give it up like this.”

“Dad, I’m not giving up my life. I’m just moving in with Grandma, that’s all. She’s got a big old house and my apartment is the size of a shoe box. I’m over there most of the time anyway, so it’ll be no big deal, really.”

“Baby—” Benjamin began.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

He nodded, knowing that it was futile to argue with her. Ever since she was five, she knew her own mind. “When?”

“My lease is up at the end of this month anyway and my landlord is talking about turning the place into a condo. There’s no way I’m paying for the same place I live in now. I really like the Mount Pleasant neighborhood, but not for those prices. Besides, it’s all the way on the other side of town. I work in Anacostia and both you and Grandma live in Old City.”

“Old City isn’t the greatest, either,” her dad said.

“That’s the stigma from the 1968 riots after King was assassinated,” she said.

“That was a bad time. Looting, arson, vandalism, not good memories,” Benjamin added.

“But look at it now. It’s really come back and every yuppie in Virginia and Maryland is dying to move back and get in on the ground floor of the upturn in the real-estate market,” she said. Benjamin nodded his agreement. “See, I have it all worked out. Although I might need a little help moving…” She nudged into him to make a point.

Benjamin smiled and nodded his head. “Just let me know when. I’ll be there, you know that.”

“I know. Thanks, Dad.”

“Okay, it’s still early. How about some breakfast?” He slapped his hands together and rubbed them as if he were releasing a magic genie from a bottle. “I’ll treat you to breakfast at the diner down the street. Eggs, sausage, scrapple, bacon, hash browns, toast and waffles sound good?”

Alyssa grimaced. There was no way she’d be able to eat that much food for breakfast. “How about a rain check? I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend for coffee this morning.”

“Coffee, since when do you drink coffee? I thought it was tea or nothing.”

“It is. You know I don’t like the taste of coffee. We’ll probably meet there and just go someplace else. It’s in Georgetown so there are a million places to go.”

“Just be careful.”

“In Georgetown, Dad, I think I’ll be safe there. You know the ratio of police is three for every one civilian there.”

“Yeah, but in the southeast it’s one cop every fifty blocks, and he or she’s usually two minutes from retiring.”