Claire Gulliver #06 - Carnage Goes Coastal (20 page)

Kay saw the other students smile, nodding, obviously pleased to have been included. But Kay was of mixed mind. True, she wanted an increased degree of skill, but she didn’t intend to compete to get it. She hoped she wouldn’t have to come out and tell them that. She felt the competitions would draw too much attention to her and she didn’t dare risk it. She just planned to go along with the program and when it came to the actual competitions, she just wouldn’t be available to participate.

Then she didn’t think about it as Derek demonstrated a series of moves, explained how he wanted them to adjust their stance for each move to get the most effective impact. He then had each student practice the move in front of the others. It was amazing to Kay what a difference each small change made. It was immediately apparent why this man was considered an expert. By the time she returned home that night she was feeling very positive about the new instructor, but it wasn’t because he was a hunk, nor because she was desperate.

Scott stood on the podium looking over the sea of faces as he paused for a dramatic effect before delivering the final words of his speech. This group, like the countless others he addressed, was enthusiastic and receptive to his words. This convention of over eight thousand mortgage bankers, paid well for his words, not seeming to understand he would have done it for free if necessary. He needed opportunities like this to make himself and his thoughts known to large audiences of the nation. But Stanford, who brokered all his engagements, always managed to get them to pay through the nose for the privilege and Scott was grateful he did.

The more they paid, the more they valued his words.

He turned on the full wattage of his smile knowing how it would project on the large screens posted around the room. He delivered his final words, expecting and getting loud applause and even some cheers and whistles from this normally staid group. He left the podium and took his seat among the other dignitaries on the stage. He pasted an interested expression on his face as he waited for the closing remarks to be delivered.

He was pleased with the speech he gave. Don Carleton and his staff of two did a fine job. Don plotted Scott’s speeches, researched the appropriate subjects and determined the appropriate position for Scott to take for each occasion before putting together the speech the audience wanted to hear. Don was careful to make sure he didn’t back Scott into a controversial corner which might damage him in the future. So far Scott was scoring lots of successes from Don’s work.

Scott had Alaina to thank for finding Don for them after Phoebe and Stanford insisted Scott add a speech writer to his staff. Alaina knew everyone and had suggested Don would be perfect. He was. Scott found working with him very easy, mainly because Don didn’t try to insert his own opinions into Scott’s mouth. He was willing to listen to what Scott wanted, mix in the facts he found and come up with the right words.

After a little waffling at the beginning, Alaina had decided to stay on with Scott. And when she did, she jumped on his bandwagon with both feet, not only helping him get up to speed in record time when he first was appointed, but subsequently she played an important role in getting him elected after Grayson’s term had ended. In fact, Scott’s overwhelming win in two thousand five did a lot to cement his reputation as an up and coming force in the Senate. His first book was still selling steadily and he was working on the second one. He was now somewhat of a hot commodity according to Stanford, who reported it was so easy to book him in speaking engagements he could cherry pick the ones most beneficial for their purposes.

“Thank you for your very fine talk. I appreciated hearing your take on the issues so critical to our business right now. You obviously understand what we’re all about.” Gilbert Marshall, the president of the Mortgage Bankers of America, held out his hand and gave Scott’s a warm shake. The conference was over and they were about to adjourn to the final cocktail party. Marshall turned toward the exit, his hand on Scott’s back, guiding them out of the conference hall. “You know you made a lot of friends here today. Your understanding of the position our industry is in will inspire many of our people to not only vote for you, but I’m sure you’ll be seeing some tangible proof of their support when the checks start rolling into your campaign headquarters. You can tell your people to expect a check from me by next week.” He grinned and patted Scott on the back.

During the cocktail hour Scott felt like a minor celebrity as people crowded around him thanking him, promising him donations, offering him more tidbits of information to support his views, but finally it was over and he could join Phoebe and Stanford for dinner in the exclusive club they belonged to.

“How did it go?” Phoebe looked at him expectantly.

“Fine, judging by the promises of campaign contributions I got afterwards, I’d say they loved me. Stanford, if you could schedule me one of these appearances every week, in a year I bet we could launch a successful write in campaign.”

Stanford chuckled. “Good idea. We’d be the first candidate to make money campaigning instead of spending it. Well, I’ll try, my boy. I’ll try.”

“Don and his guys got the tone just right, and these people ate it up. They have some complicated issues. They have a couple of bills they want passed to encourage big businesses to invest in some new instruments they want to offer in the market. And they want some tax protections for those investors. Don nailed it for me. Frankly, I think they were amazed I got it.”

“Well, that may be, but don’t underrate the value of your boyish charm in delivering those words. Probably all the women and part of the men are in love with you now,” Phoebe said with a smile. “When you turn on that smile you knock their socks off.”

The waiter interrupted then and they got down to the business of ordering. It was a pleasant dinner. The dining room was elegant, the wait staff efficient and discreet. The food was excellent and each table was placed far enough away from the others to ensure conversations could be private. Phoebe used this time to discuss the large ball she was planning to give the weekend after Thanksgiving. She loved engineering these events and even though she could afford to hire people to coordinate everything, she loved to manage much of it herself. The men were smart enough to pretend interest in the endless details; they wanted her to be happy as she controlled the purse strings for the lot of them.

Later after the table had been cleared, Stanford leaned back satisfied. “Well, my boy, what do you think of the idea we use Phoebe’s ball as the venue to declare your candidacy this December?”

Scott looked at him somewhat dubiously. “For what?”

“What have we been planning? President, of course. December fifth is the deadline for filing for candidates.”

Scott’s heart started beating so rapidly he could no longer hear the noise in the dining room. He looked at Phoebe and then back at Stanford. “But, it’s too soon.”

They both smiled at him.

“Isn’t it too soon?”

Stanford shook his head slightly. “The race this year is wide open. Already there are over twenty candidates declared, so why not add another? While it’s true it’s earlier than we expected to do this, what better way is there of getting you some attention than to have you running with the big boys? The media is obligated to cover all the candidates and that’s publicity we couldn’t buy. And it will be good preparation for when we make our concerted run in two thousand twelve. It gives us a practice run, so to speak. And who knows, maybe this practice will turn into the real thing.”

Phoebe leaned across the table her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Dad and I talked about this and I think it’s a brilliant move, Scott. It will move you into the national limelight. It will position you to begin to build up your war chest. It will make you a contender.”

Scott started to think about it. He knew he wasn’t ready, but who was ever ready for the reality of handling the problems of the nation? He had discovered during the past few years he was very good at delegating and managing. And he knew he could quickly grasp the essence of even the most complicated bills. More importantly, he had learned that his colleagues in the senate, and even the president himself were not the smart, experienced experts he had always thought these people were. Many of them made some stupid decisions; some relied on their staff for much of what they did, and none of them were demigods. So if they could accept the responsibility for holding the highest offices in the land, so could he. He grinned. “Let’s do it.”

Claire headed to the back of the shop calling, “Tuffy-Two, come.” She let herself out through the screen door into the sunny backyard. Three customers were enjoying the chairs under the gazebo, and two were at an umbrella table in the corner. She wandered around the area and picked up an abandoned soda can and a full ashtray to empty, before sitting a moment on a bench under the shade of the old tree. Tuffy-Two was still nosing around, checking to make sure everything was as it should be. One of the customers looked up from the book he was reading and nodded at her.

Last summer she and Jack had decided to invest in the yard behind the bookshop, turning it into a garden for the customers to enjoy. It probably hadn’t done anything to increase profits, but it was one of those intangible benefits. You never knew how much it affected customers’ willingness to shop at Gullivers. After much discussion they had decided to install some vending machines to support the garden and those actually were making a profit, perhaps because even the staff loved having the convenience of soft drinks and snacks at their fingertips. And last September Jack had installed a fountain in the garden as a third anniversary present for Claire. The gentle sound of water gurgling from one level to the next added immensely to the charm of the garden.

Claire loved the garden. She found a few minutes every day to relax while watching the butterflies, listening to the fountain, and just getting a fresh breath of air.

She had really taken to marriage. Her life was so different now, she could hardly remember what it was like to live alone. She and Jack found they cohabited well. They didn’t always agree on things, but they never fought about things they disagreed on. She supposed it was because they each thought the other had a right to have their own opinion. When they did have a difference of opinions they both made the effort to work things out amicably.

Jack was enjoying his position with the Homeland Security Office. He said the work was interesting and while it wasn’t as dangerous to him personally as his former work was, he admitted it pleased him. He felt he was at an age when he appreciated not having to live by his wits all the time.

Claire was really pleased with Gulliver’s Travels business. The website business was growing substantially. She had hired a part-time employee, a mother who worked while her children were in school, to monitor that part of the business just as Karen had done, and it really worked. They now advertised in all the premiere travel magazines and the orders they received online kept their inventory moving so they seldom had many outdated travel guides to attend to.

Karen.
Claire felt sadness spread through her. That was a constant worry. She missed Karen and baby Jack more than she ever imagined. They hadn’t been a part of her life long, but they were an important part, and she loved them dearly.

It was strange to her now, thinking about that period of her life. It turned out to be a life changing time. She had since then learned to live with the fact innocent lives had been lost because she had diverted those men from following Karen without thought of the danger she was placing those women in. At the time it hadn’t occurred to her they would be harmed by her action. She expected the men chasing after the bug would only be angry when they found they had been duped. She realized she had acted as if she was playing a game. She didn’t consider how deadly her actions could be. She would carry that guilt for her whole life.

And she had actually killed one man. It distressed her by how little guilt she felt for that action. In fact, when she steered her car right at those men getting out of their car with guns, she meant to destroy both men. She had been determined they not be allowed a clear line of sight to Karen and little Jack. And she suspected she might not be any better a person than those men, because the truth was she knew, given the same situation, she would do it again, only hopefully more effectively. So now she lived with the knowledge she could and would kill. That was not a pleasant thing to know about oneself.

Since that incident she had been very cautious, trying to live a life that didn’t present any opportunities for her to need to kill again. Fortunately, she and Jack lived quietly, content with their life in Bayside and since Karen had disappeared into the Witness Protection Program, neither of them had stumbled into any situations of a mysterious nature.

“There you are, Claire. Do you mind if I join you for a bit, this is such a lovely spot.”

Claire looked up smiling. “Mrs. B, you know I’d love to have you sit with me.”

Tuffy-Two was cavorting at Mrs. B’s feet claiming his share of her attention.

“How are you doing today? What brought you out?”

“My niece had to do some shopping so I rode along. I thought I needed a shot of air filled with the odor of books.” She smiled.

In the last two years Mrs. B had really aged. Claire thought it was like that story of Dorian Gray. He stayed young while everyone around him aged, but when he did age he kind of shriveled up suddenly. Mrs. B was still mentally bright, but her body was wearing out. She didn’t work at the shop any longer and Claire really missed her. She usually dropped by at least once a week, but lately she wasn’t up to walking from her home as she used to do, so she only came when someone gave her a ride. Claire thought it was like she finally realized she was eighty-eight, and so now she was beginning to act her age.

“Well, any news?”

Claire knew she was asking if they had heard from Karen. “No, but I imagine we’ll hear from her soon, it’s been almost two months since the last email.”