17. Would You Like A Cookie?

17

WOULD YOU LIKE A COOKIE?

EVANGELINE

R ebecca Langley sits opposite me, a glass of wine in front of her and a beautiful salad that she’s barely touched. Her dark hair is pinned in an elegant bun and she’s wearing a flattering wrap dress that complements her light skin tone. She touches the white linen napkin to her lips, leaving a bit of red lipstick behind as she places it back on the table.

We’ve been talking so much about Compton House and plans for this year’s charity gala that I’ve barely tasted my soup.

“This has really been nice,” Rebecca exclaims. “You know, you should have dinner with Jonathan and I sometime.” The mention of him causes the hair to rise on my arms. “I’m not much of a cook, and I usually meet him somewhere by the Capitol in between sessions.”

I don’t want to offend her but there’s no way Darren could be in a room with Langley without losing his temper. “Darren’s so busy we barely have time together. He won’t be back in Georgetown until late tonight.”

“How’s the campaign going?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve never been at the center of one, so I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

Rebecca sits back in her chair, taking her glass of wine in hand. “I don’t think I have to tell you about the intricacies of politics.” She smiles and takes a sip.

I falter, trying not to assume her meaning.

“I mean, you strike me as someone who picks up on things quickly. Like you did with Compton House,” she offers.

“Oh, yes.” I take a sip of my water. “I guess I just threw myself into it because it was something I was passionate about.”

“That’s exactly what we need on the board. Audrina has done such a wonderful job taking over for Merrill but it’s nice to have a new perspective.”

“Did you know Merrill well?” I ask.

She looks taken aback.

“Of course,” she says, and then her expression becomes contemplative. “There was a time when we were very close.”

I would like to know more but I don’t want to pry.

“Being a politician’s wife isn’t easy,” she offers.

“I’m beginning to understand that.” I scoff.

“Your life isn’t private anymore,” she explains. “The press doesn’t care who they hurt.” She sets her drink down and looks out the window.

“You sound like you have some experience with that,” I persist, bringing her attention back.

“We all have. Darren grew up with it, being Kerry’s son, but for us wives, it’s different.” She finishes her wine, and the waiter returns to refill it, but she places her hand over the top.

“That might be true, but he’s not immune to the press running false stories or an opponent feeding information to the press about past transgressions,” I imply, but her expression remains passive.

“If you ever need someone who understands, my door’s always open.”

I blow out a breath. “I might take you up on that.”

The waiter drops off the check and Rebecca grabs it before I have the chance.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“It’s my pleasure. Besides, I’m the one who asked you to lunch,” she smiles, placing her credit card in the billfold.

“Will you excuse me? I need to use the restroom.” I head towards the back of the restaurant but before I get there I run into Rausch as he exits the gentlemen’s cigar lounge. The annoyed look on his face suggests he wasn’t in there for a relaxing afternoon cigar and malt liquor.

“I thought you were with Darren!” I say in surprise.

“I had unexpected business to take care of here,” he explains, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks.

“What business is that?” I inquire, placing a hand on my hip.

“The kind that’s none of yours,” he says.

“Does Darren know you’re here?”

“I don’t have to run it by Darren wherever I go.”

“That means he doesn’t know then.” I give him a satisfied smile.

He looks down at the expensive gold watch on his wrist. “I’m sure Angie’s told him by now.” His gaze travels over my shoulder. “Interesting choice for a lunch date.” He raises an eyebrow.

“She’s on the board for the foundation.” I point out. “I was voted in today as chairwoman.”

“Would you like a cookie?”

I give him a sour expression. “Usually, I can handle your lack of decorum, but you’re especially ornery today. Is everything okay?”

He lets out a breath. “I apologize,” he offers. “Congratulations, I know Darren will be happy about you taking over his mother’s charity.”

“You know, anything that concerns Darren or the campaign is my business.”

“I’ve got it handled,” he gripes.

I shake my head. “If you did you wouldn’t look so worried. Is this about the article on Kerry’s visit to Arizona?”

His expression darkens.

“I’m not the enemy,” I say.

“Jonathan likes to play games.”

“That’s exactly why I think I should make a statement about my past,” I explain.

“I’m good at my job because I handle the unpleasant things so that Darren can focus on winning,” he explains.

“The focus should be on making a difference in the community,” I insist.

Rausch moves a little closer to make room for a party to walk by. He lowers his voice. “And he cannot make a difference if he isn’t elected. Which is what I’m trying to ensure.”

“Ensure?” I question, my eyes wide.

“Do not insinuate that I’m doing anything underhanded.”

I wave my hand to the lounge he just came from. “A dimly lit cigar lounge screams legitimate.”

The creases on his forehead deepen.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“When Darren comes back to Georgetown, we should talk.”