by Ridge King
His remarks were funny by and large and got the audience into a good mood to enjoy the evening. He concluded:
“At a party once I heard an Asian ambassador say that Americans were much too hasty and fast-paced for his tastes. I told him I thought it was one of our virtues, but he said it wasn’t. I saw him the other day after the election results were in and asked him what he thought, as they were indecisive and we were stalled until the House met. He looked at me soberly, and said, ‘It’ll take time, Senator, but I do believe that Americans are learning.’ ” Thurston sat down to good applause.
As Vice President Coker introduced Sam Houston St. Clair, Patricia took another look at Matt Hawkins who had his head turned to see the speakers. His hair was somewhere between curly and wavy. She liked it the more she looked at it. It was unkempt and made him look frisky. It was hair to be handled, for hands to run through because its owner wasn’t fastidious and would doubtless enjoy more the feeling of it being handled than bother thinking about whether those hands might muss it. She could tell he couldn’t give a damn about such things. From his obvious physical presence she thought he must be an outdoorsman, but she wasn’t sure. The fresh air of the country just seemed to hang about him, seemed a part of his nature, and he seemed to bring with him the exuberance of the green, growing woods and the free, flowing sea. She could see him on a sailboat, the sea wind tossing and throwing his hair. She caught herself and wondered why she was attracted to him. But then she thought any woman would be. She remembered the smile on Jane Turner’s face when Crampton introduced Matt. Jane had maneuvered more than one young congressman into her bed in her forty-four years. She was an old hand at it. Patricia assumed Matt was married but couldn’t remember for sure. Very few congressmen were not. But this Hawkins was young. She thought of her own thirty years and immediately began to wonder if she looked her age and how old exactly Matt was.
St. Clair was speaking as Patricia thought to herself. He was the most serious speaker of the evening. He had reason to be.
“I know that I am going into the House of Representatives as the underdog. The other party controls the House and that is not a secret in this town.” There was a little self-conscious laughter scattered around the room, but it quickly stopped. St. Clair’s expression was such that the audience knew he wanted to be light-hearted but just couldn’t bring himself to pull it off.
“And since most of the Congress is here tonight, I want to say to every member of that body, both houses, that I intend to do my best to convince you of my abilities. I know that I’ve never lived in Washington and that Sofia and myself are strangers here. I’ve tried in the last few days and will try in the weeks ahead to come even closer to you.” He paused and looked down before looking back to his audience, the most powerful group he’d ever addressed in his whole life. “It is not my intention to bring partisanship into this room tonight. This is the only opportunity I have to speak to the Congress assembled under one roof. I merely want to express to all of you and to the others here present, how I feel and what I’m trying to do. I thank you.” St. Clair received wild applause, but many Democrats remained in their seats applauding limply.
Everybody at table twelve looked at Jack, who shrugged.
“He’s going through a lot right now. This isn’t easy on any of us.”
Everybody mumbled agreement.
Senator Thurston’s face was a study in controlled fury. He considered St. Clair’s remarks to be completely partisan and thought he’d been cheated. Many people in the room who opposed St. Clair found his remarks very moving, as though coming from a man who would never sit in the White House. St. Clair got through to many on an emotional level.
Patricia Vaughan caught the end of his talk in the hushed room and joined those standing as St. Clair returned to his seat. Jonathan also stood but applauded weakly. He was always bored. Crampton held his hands high above his head, applauding madly, his cuff links flashing light as his hands came rapidly together. Hawkins too applauded vigorously, and as he sat down Patricia thought he had a sad expression in his eyes. She thought he felt sorry for St. Clair. And yet she knew he supported Thurston. She remembered that much about him.
Albert Delamar, seated on the far side of the room with his wife, felt a little better about his capitulation to St. Clair, even though no one knew about it yet.
Phil Slanetti was three tables away from table twelve and he'd been watching its occupants with keen interest. His wife spent most of the time talking to someone else so he was free to observe. He knew Kellerman would be hit soon. Also, Hawkins was at table twelve, and Slanetti wanted to see the man in as many situations as he could before deciding who to get to act as liaison and how to approach him. He considered Crampton, because obviously the two were friends, and Crampton was for St. Clair, but Slanetti still had nothing damaging on Hawkins. It was a problem.
The secretary of the Society then came to the microphone and invited the guests to enjoy dinner. The ball would begin immediately afterwards, he said.
As dinner was being served, talkative Jane Turner provided just the opening Patricia had been waiting for to ask Hawkins the question she’d had on her mind since meeting him.
“Your party will be almost as big an affair as this one, Patricia, don’t you think?”
“It might be; about three hundred will be coming. Excuse me, Mr. Hawkins?”
Matt was talking to Crampton but turned to look at Patricia, his brows rising inquiringly. He had given her a very close look when they’d been introduced. He remembered her invitation when Crampton mentioned her name and wondered if his refusal would come up in the conversation. Jousting with Perryman in the Italian restaurant had made him playful and he was looking for some active conversation. For the first time, they looked each other in the eyes. Both pairs were brown, his darker than hers.
“Yes, Mrs. Vaughan?” he said.
“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry you won’t be able to attend my party on Thanksgiving. I know you’d find it interesting. Many of your future colleagues will be there. You stood out in my mind because you were the only one who refused,” she said with a subtle snicker.
Everyone’s attention focused on Matt. Free from stares, knowing everybody was looking at him as he looked still into her bright brown eyes, she smiled at him and raised her left eyebrow to give him the message that he was on the spot. He broke eye contact and smiled slightly, looking down, recognizing that she was seeing how he would react when under a little mild peer pressure.
“Frankly, Mrs. Vaughan, when I got your invitation, I wasn’t quite sure why you invited me. I’ve never met you or your husband before in my life. It seemed a little strange to receive an invitation just because I will be the new representative from a little state like Wyoming.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. He couldn’t be that naïve, she told herself. Did he want her to say that all congressmen were invited to parties just because they were congressmen—there didn’t have to be any other reason. Congressmen expected such blind invitations as recognition of their power and station in the capital. People were looking quietly at her between bites. She and Matt hadn’t touched their food yet.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Hawkins. I knew you were new in Washington and it was only my intention to make you feel at home.”
Now everybody looked back at him just as he picked up his fork. He hadn’t expected her to answer him. She smiled at him with a playful sneer that only he noticed.
“Well,” he said, “actually I did want to attend at first, but then it struck me that my wife, who is still in Wyoming, wouldn’t be in town yet for the occasion, and since I didn’t know anybody in Washington, as you pointed out, I thought I might feel a little uncomfortable going alone.” He started eating, hoping she would find something else to say so that he could continue talking to her. He made up his mind to ask her to dance later at the ball.
“I found out today, Patricia,” said Crampton, “that Than
ksgiving is Matt’s birthday. That might have something to do with it.” Patricia immediately became excited that Thanksgiving was his birthday, but she didn’t know why. Then she did.
“Oh, really, how old will you be, Mr. Hawkins?”
“Matt, please,” he said.
“And Patricia for me,” she said with exaggeration.
“Well, Patricia—” but before he could tell her, Kellerman and Turner, who had been talking separately across the table for several minutes, got into an argument. Kellerman supported Thurston even though he was one of two Republicans from Nevada. Kellerman was siding with the lone Democrat in the three-man delegation and this gave the state to Thurston. Turner, a good Republican, supported St. Clair. The Sino-Russian issue was at the base of their disagreement.
“I think you’re out of your mind, Larry,” said Turner. “No offense, Jack.”
Jack held his hands up, palms outward.
“None taken.”
“It’s my personal opinion and I’ll keep it that way, so let’s drop it,” growled Kellerman. “I’m supporting Jack’s dad because I believe he’s got the right policy.” He was from Las Vegas, a big man, six-four, with a big square head. He had a thick, heavy neck, light brown hair that was beginning to recede on the sides and heavy brows that met between his eyes. He had rather thin lips, especially the upper one, and this made his mouth weak in such a way that he looked like he had a slight harelip, but he didn’t. He had a heavy beard that could not be shaved close enough to disappear and there was always some sign of his beard on his chin, where it was heaviest. He looked and was extremely physical and wasn’t the type of man to argue with.
Crampton sorted them out and told them to quiet down and enjoy their dinner.
“That’s the trouble with these mass things—they always mix the tables up and put so many different people together. It’s natural to start something. You boys take it easy.”
Patricia wasn’t finished with Hawkins yet, though she had begun her dinner.
“I hope you’ll come to the party if you have the time, Matt. I think you’ll enjoy meeting everybody socially before you meet them professionally.”
“I’ll try to come, Patricia. Why don’t I let you know?”
“That’s fine.”
“Why do you live in Washington?” he asked casually.
The question stunned Patricia. No one ever asked it before. Even Jonathan heard this. He had been ignoring the table conversation generally, but this question he’d never heard before either—from anybody. In fact, Jonathan Vaughan was about to enter the conversation. He didn’t like Hawkins’s freshness. It seemed rough and ill bred to someone with his wealthy, sophisticated background.
“I suppose we just like it here. No one ever asked before,” said Patricia frankly.
“Well,” said Matt. “I know why I’m here. I was elected to come. I was just wondering what business it is that has you make your home in Washington, that’s all.” Crampton nudged his leg beneath the tablecloth to shut up. Matt realized what the nudge meant. Jonathan had had enough of the young man’s impertinence.
“Actually,” he interjected, “we have several places, Mr. Hawkins. Washington is just one of them. We have places in New York, Palm Beach, Los Angeles, London and Paris.”
“Don’t forget your place in the clubhouse whenever you visit St. Clair Island,” Jack interrupted.
“I’ve heard a lot about your island, Jack,” said Matt. “It’s pretty famous.”
“You’re welcome to come as my guest, Matt, anytime.” He paused. “Now, about your vote—”
As everybody broke out laughing, Patricia thought the question an interesting one. She thought how often so many things are assumed, never questioned, and she thought how much that observation applied to her personal life as well, her relationships with Jonathan and Neil.
“Maybe we will buy some land on St. Clair Island, Jack,” said Jonathan. “I’m sick of Palm Beach.”
“I was just wondering what you like about Washington,” Matt persisted.
“As you may know, we have oil interests and find Washington a central place to have a home,” said Vaughan. “Plus, I grew up here.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” said Matt, cutting his prime rib and spooning out some horseradish sauce onto his plate. “All I know is if I had a home in Palm Beach, I sure wouldn’t be in Washington.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Vaughan, raising his eyebrows and looking down his perfectly shaped nose to Hawkins, “I’m leaving for Palm Beach tomorrow for several weeks.”
Matt looked up, fork in mouth.
“You mean you won’t be at the party Thanksgiving?”
“Well—no, actually.”
Interesting, thought Matt.
Chapter 23
The President’s Waltz
There was a noticeable increase in the number of throats cleared at table twelve. Vaughan’s confident expression did not waver.
“Business. I have to go down for business. I’m often unable to attend our parties, but Patricia handles them very well. Business, you see—it keeps me away so much of the time.”
Matt looked around the table and smiled openly.
“I wish I had business in Palm Beach.”
Patricia and the rest of the people at the table laughed and the subject changed.
“Are you supporting Senator Thurston?” asked Jane Turner, smiling at Matt. She doesn’t care who he supports, just who he sleeps with, thought Patricia.
He looked at Jane as she asked him the question but just before he answered her, he glanced for a split second at Patricia and caught her looking closely at him; she broke off self-consciously and resumed eating. In that same split second he took his glance back to Jane Turner.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m with you, Matt,” said Kellerman. “It’s not easy to go with your party on this, but I am. It’s pure hell to switch over on something this big, but I make up my own mind—nobody does it for me, and I’ve made up my mind to vote for Thurston. I don’t like the Russians and I don’t care who knows it.”
“I would be a little happier, I must admit,” said Matt, “if Thurston would soften towards the Russians a little after he’s in. It’s no good having them think we hate them. I just don’t want to see them bullying China or anybody else around.”
“By January third you’ll be voting for St. Clair,” said Crampton confidently.
“If I hang around you much longer, I’m afraid your views on foreign policy might rub off on me.”
“They don’t call me a father-figure for nothing,” joked Crampton.
“I’m glad this whole thing has made the small states important,” commented Kellerman, referring to the fact that each state and not each congressman had a vote.
“I can’t understand why the Founding Fathers put that provision in to begin with,” said Turner.
“It was so the small states wouldn’t be ignored,” explained Jack. “The small states at the Constitutional Convention were afraid of being overwhelmed in matters of national policy by the larger states. The provision in the Constitution allowing each state a vote in the case of a tie was a concession to the delegates from the smaller states to get them to ratify the Constitution.”
“It worked,” said Crampton, nodding.
“I haven’t even bothered to look into getting tickets for the third,” said Jane.
“They’ll be hard to come by, too, I can tell you that. That session will be one very important day in our history, yes, indeed,” said Crampton, finishing his meal.
Crampton and Kellerman abruptly got into an argument over the Sino-Russian issue, even though Crampton had just stopped another argument on the same subject. Turner joined, supporting Crampton. Kellerman was man enough to argue with both of them, however, and the fight went on.
Jack busied himself in conversation with Babe to avoid getting involved.
Matt kept out of it, noticing all this time Jonathan Vaughan’s in
tentional aloofness and haughty disdain for the people at the table, everybody except Jack, of course. Matt thought—What a snotty little shit.
“The Chinese are aggressive and won’t stop till they drain all the water out of those rivers,” Crampton was saying.
“They’re only aggressive because the Russians are pushing them into it,” retorted Kellerman.
“The hell you say, Larry. It’s China’s fault,” Turner said.
Matt continued eating but looked at Patricia between bites. She knew he was looking at her so she didn’t look up. Matt thought immediately after seeing her that she was gorgeous and unutterably desirable physically. He sensed that she had a sensual nature deep down, but this didn’t come across too clearly in her ordinary demeanor. He assumed that her sensuality had been chilled on the surface by her experience with men and society. He wondered what ever possessed a woman like Patricia to marry a prick like Vaughan. Perhaps it was his money, he thought. Vaughan left no doubt in the minds of newcomers that he was rich. He looked it, acted it, even smelled it. His mind was filled with a mental picture of Jonathan and Patricia making love. He naturally assumed that they spent little time together. Neither was so old that they’d take each other for granted so soon after marriage, had their relationship been worth a shit, he thought. He figured Jonathan got his women elsewhere, picked them up as they were attracted to his money and position in society and dropped off where and when he thought convenient for him: a selfish bastard. He wondered if their relationship had gone sour because she refused to be treated like someone Jonathan could fuck when he wanted and the hell with her otherwise. He wondered, he wondered.