Читать книгу The Best-Kept Secret - Melinda Curtis - Страница 10

ROGER LOWERED HIS VOICE. “The lady wants you to leave.”

“Given your track record, I prefer to stay. The lady needs protection.” From both Roger and her own mistaken impressions. Hud leaned back in his chair and put his arm across the top of Rosie’s chair. Somewhere between his office and Plouf she’d become someone who believed in him, however reluctant that belief might be, and he’d started thinking of her as Rosie.

“Gentlemen, please.” But Rosie only stared at Hud and bobbed her head in the direction of the door, freeing another wayward curl in her effort to get rid of him.

If Rosie wasn’t going to willingly give him a second chance, Hud had no choice but to create his own opportunities. “I hear you’re interested in running for mayor, Roger. I’m curious. What would you put on your agenda?”

“Agenda?” The other man frowned.

Thank you, Roger, for making this easy. “What issues would take priority for you? Education? Health care? Transportation?”

Roger shrugged. “They all seem important to me. Doesn’t the city have a lot of programs in place already?”

“Yes, we do.” Hud smiled and brought his head closer to Rosie’s because he knew it would annoy Roger. “There are several great programs in San Francisco. The problem is red tape. People don’t know how to get the help they need or they can’t work their way through the bureaucratic paper trail.”

“Like you know what’s going on in San Francisco,” Roger sulked.

“I know that with the most attractive health care and services programs around we attract more than our fair share of homeless.” Hud sensed Rosie’s appraising gaze upon him and hoped she realized how passionate he was about serving his community. “And that our city is overly dependent upon tourism. Our infrastructure is strained and the new bay bridge still won’t be large enough to handle all the traffic during rush hour.”

“What? Are you applying for the mayor’s job?” Roger snapped. Then he looked from Hud to Rosie and swore. “You are!”

“That’s enough,” Rosie interjected.

Hud shrugged. “I’d like to think I can make the city a better place.”

“That’s bull.” Roger shook his head. “No one can change a thing. The best you can do is ride shotgun and hope for no earthquakes or terrorist attacks.”

“I think you’re wrong.” And now, hopefully, Rosie would, too.

“You’re not going to impress her with that.” Roger’s voice turned sour. “Politicians are realists. Aren’t they?”

“I think,” Rosie said after looking the two of them over, “things have gotten out of hand here and—”

“You should go,” Hud told Roger, moving his hand closer to Rosie’s shoulder with a grin.

Roger stood. “Don’t make any hasty decisions about Hudson. Everyone knows he’s a quitter.” Tossing his napkin on the table, Roger left.

Hud didn’t realize he’d gripped Rosie’s shoulder until she loosened his fingers from her jacket. “Please tell me that more people wanted to go to dinner with me than with that pompous jerk,” he said.

The waiter placed a glass of white wine in front of her while Rosie scooted her chair away from his. “I have never seen such a childish display in my life,” she said finally. “You barge in here—”

“Pull out your charts.”

“Sit down in the midst of what is clearly a business meeting—”

“Or I’ll do it for you.”

“And bully Roger into leaving.”

She was breathing heavy and so was Hud. He hadn’t experienced a good fight in a long time. He was angry and frustrated and trying not to be desperate. But what was most surprising was how alive Rosie DeWitt made him feel, how he wanted to twine his fingers through her long springy curls while they sparred. Hud could tell from the intensity of her glare that she felt the same way. Adversaries sometimes made the best lovers. Not that pursuing a relationship with his campaign manager would help Hud’s image. He’d learned over the last few years that short-term attraction distracted him from his long-term goals. But that didn’t mean Hud couldn’t use this spark between them to his advantage.

Hud grinned. “I can wait all day.” Because he was going to get Rosie’s endorsement for mayor if he had to follow her home.

“PERHAPS I SHOULD CALL HUD.” Vivian fiddled with the stem of her wineglass as she sat across from Walter in one of San Francisco’s most exclusive restaurants.

Walter put his chin on his hand and studied her intently, much the way he’d been doing all through lunch, as if he’d just met her and was trying to figure her out. “Why? He’s a grown man.”

“I know, but I want him to be happy.”

“After age eighteen, they have to be in charge of finding their own happiness. I think I told you as much twenty years ago.”

Vivian attempted a smile. “I didn’t listen then, either.” She’d spoiled Samuel because Hamilton had been so hard on Hud. It had taken Samuel a long time to grow up, but eventually he had, going so far as to receive a graduate degree from Berkeley before joining the army. When he was killed in Afghanistan, Vivian was glad she’d made his short life so special.

“Adversity builds character,” Walter pointed out, reaching for her hand. He was so supportive, always there when she needed him. A decade ago Walter had stood by her side when Hamilton passed away from complications created by his diabetes. He’d helped Hud see her through the loss of Samuel nearly five years later and had been one of the few people who didn’t disappear when things went sour for Hud in the Senate. When she’d called earlier in the week to discuss Hud’s options, Walter had been the one to suggest Rosie and she’d readily agreed, knowing he’d use Vivian’s name to smooth things over for Hud.

With her hand enveloped in Walter’s larger one, Vivian felt safe. “We’ve had enough adversity in our lives. Hud doesn’t need any more.”

“Hudson is young enough to weather a few more storms.” Walter stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, sending an almost forgotten thrill skittering across her skin. “You’re the one I want to see happy.”

She tried to ease her hand back, but Walter only held on tighter. If she had any sense, she’d think her old friend was making a move on her. But Vivian knew better. She was nearing sixty-five with skin that had lost its elasticity and body parts that drooped. Powerful men like Walter pursued young, nubile bodies.

Vivian patted Walter’s hand and gently extricated herself, because she knew what he wanted even if he seemed not to at the moment. “I am happy.”

With a significant glance at his empty hand, Walter’s dark eyebrows went up a centimeter or two. They both knew that was a fib. She’d spent the last two years moping around her office and home. A change of subject was in order.

“Why on earth are you considering Roger Bartholomew? He was one of Samuel’s friends.” One of his wilder friends and someone Vivian considered an extremely bad influence on her son in college. “And he’s too young.”

“I chose two candidates that I’m certain will make Rosie’s recommendation an easy one.” And that was as close as Walter would come to admitting he’d stacked the deck in Hud’s favor. “I thought you didn’t want Hudson back in politics.”

“I’ve grown accustomed to the peace and quiet.”

“You’ve retreated from the world but you can’t quite give up influencing it. You can’t have it both ways, Viv.” Walter gave her a half smile.

She laughed. “When you’ve done all I’ve done, why be bothered with all this?” Vivian gestured to the room full of men and women in suits.

“Do you want me to buy you some support hose and a rocking chair?”

“I don’t consider myself elderly.” Vivian bristled.

“Then don’t act like it.” There was that spark of male interest in his eyes again.

Vivian didn’t want to admit that she longed for a rocking chair and a lap filled with babies more than she longed to stand behind Hud while he gave speech after speech. Anybody could do that. “Maybe I want something different. Maybe I want to be…” Needed.

“What?”

But Vivian wasn’t ready to tell Walter that she had no reason to get up in the morning and no reason to climb into her empty bed at night.

ROSIE’S PHONE BEEPED. Somehow in the midst of all the arguing and male posturing, she’d missed a call. A quick check of the screen revealed the words Rainbow Day Care. Caught up in the excitement, she’d lost track of time. Using her bad-mommy antennae, Ms. Phan had probably sensed Rosie would be hung up and called to remind her.

It was one-fifteen. Rosie was going to be late and Casey, bless his heart, was going to forgive her like he always did. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait,” Hudson said. “Tell me if my figures are stronger than Roger’s.”

“I have to pick up my son.” Grabbing her things, Rosie wended her way to the door. On her way out, she left money with the maitre d’.

“Do you have an umbrella?” the maitre d’ asked. “It’s really coming down.”

Glancing up, Rosie saw the downpour. Idiot. She’d left Casey’s Spider-Man umbrella in Hudson’s office. She’d have to admit to Casey that she’d lost it. He’d find this infraction harder to forgive than her being late. It was two blocks to a bus stop, and at least four to BART. Getting a taxi during lunch hour in the city was always challenging, but during a rain shower would be next to impossible. She’d show up late, drenched, without Casey’s umbrella.

Rosie called Selena, who had a car and as an artist had a more flexible schedule than most of her friends. She’d picked up Casey before when Rosie got in a jam. But Selena’s phone rolled to voice mail.

A hand touched her shoulder. Rosie jumped and twisted her ankle as her slender heel gave way, not noticing a steadying grip on her arm until she regained her footing.

Hudson’s brown eyes were the color of strong whiskey, a potent, overwhelming force. “Let me give you a ride.”

She’d never liked whiskey. “I’ll get a taxi.” Rosie tried to remember where the nearest hotel was. That would be her best bet for a cab. The last thing she needed was Hudson hounding her all across town. In addition to the flaws Samuel had pointed out to her all those years ago, his brother had no manners.

“You’ll need this.” He pulled Casey’s small Spider-Man umbrella out of his inner raincoat pocket. “My assistant realized you left without it.”

She was saved. “That was very nice of you.” He’d carried it all this way. Rosie couldn’t imagine Samuel doing such a thing.

“Unexpected, I see.”

“It certainly is. You could have given it to me in front of Roger.” And tried to humiliate her.

Hudson shrugged, grinning as if he didn’t often get caught being nice. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“Neither do you.”

The rain came down so hard it sounded as if there was a train outside.

“How about we declare a truce?” Hudson rubbed the back of his neck, looking contrite. “You’ll never get a cab and my driver is just around the corner.”

“Fine.” Even with Casey’s umbrella, there was no way Rosie would find a taxi in time. While Hudson called his driver, Rosie stepped out of her Jimmy Choos and stuffed them into her slender briefcase, managing to zip it closed. The money she’d paid for those shoes would have been better spent on Casey’s college fund. Chalk up another bad decision on the long list of her parenting mistakes.

“INNER SUNSET, PLEASE,” Rosie said, bending forward so that Graham, Hud’s driver, could hear the rest of her directions. Then she sat back, opened her briefcase and pulled out her precious shoes, dragging out a file bursting with clippings, photos and papers in the process. The file tab bore his name.

Hud recognized the edge of one of his Senate campaign photos. His fingers twitched as he wondered what else was in there.

“They didn’t get wet,” she murmured, reverently placing the shoes on the seat between them before sinking back and closing her eyes. She curled her wet toes, shimmering with pink polish, into the carpet. “I’ll just sit here and pretend I’m invisible and that the past two and a half hours didn’t happen. Can you wake me when we get to my son’s day care?”

Most women Hud knew would have harped on about what he’d just done. But then, most women didn’t have an inch-thick file on Hud or such a disappointing set of beliefs about him. There had to be a way to change Rosie’s mind. Caving in to his curiosity, he flipped her file open to an editorial on his Senatorial campaign viewpoints. Rosie had written “fair assessment” in the margin as well as underlining a passage claiming Hudson was passionate but too young and green for the responsibilities of office.

“What are you doing?” She turned her head slightly to look at him.

“Trying to find out what you think of me.”

“I believe I made that clear in your office.”

“I can still wonder why you think I’m a poor choice, can’t I?” Hud shrugged.

Rosie stiffened, then faced forward again and closed her eyes, but her eyelashes fluttered as if she was trying to peek at him.

She’d printed off his voting record. There was a defense bill he’d voted for that she’d written “mistake” next to, but a medical bill he’d helped write had “good piece of work” scribbled next to it. Hud relaxed against the seat, agreeing with her. He’d voted for the defense bill in exchange for a vote on a childcare bill from a Texas senator although the defense bill was loaded with pork.

He flipped to a clipping of his debate team winning the state championship his senior year in high school. There was a small picture of him in action looking as if he could conquer the world. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“I suppose it was hard to face the reality that everything you touch doesn’t turn to gold.” Her finger twitched on the door handle as if she were impatient to get away from him.

She was a piece of work and Hud was going to enjoy making her see things his way. “Everyone goes through a teenage phase of immortality.”

“Yours just lasted longer than others.” She cast a sideways glance in his direction, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I hadn’t realized putting me in my place had become a blood sport. Or that one of the aides to the Democratic chairman would enjoy it so much.”

Without a word, Rosie looked out the window as if he’d struck a nerve. Why was she so determined to point out his flaws? He returned his attention to her file in case it held the answer.

Just behind the article was a picture of that year’s debate team. Hud’s eyes weren’t as good as they used to be and he had to lift the photo closer to look at the once familiar faces, including his own naively confident visage. Standing next to him was Samuel, looking as bored and out of place as he’d ever been at anything that their father cared about. Hud passed his fingers over the photo.

“That’s my brother,” Hudson said when he trusted himself to speak. Thinking of Samuel was sometimes like that. There were days when Hud could talk about him easily and others when his throat trapped all the emotion inside him.

“People loved him,” she pointed out, as if rubbing it in that Hud was the less popular brother.

“He liked making friends, but he had no interest in politics.” Much to the family’s dismay. And Hud’s. It would have been easier on him if he didn’t have to shoulder all the hopes of the family.

“He didn’t have the drive.”

“Like I do.”

“Like you used to have,” Rosie corrected him, giving him a view of the curls on the back of her head.

“I am very driven. And I have lots of friends who find me intriguing.” He hadn’t meant to let Rosie get to him.

“I call them as I see them.” Her voice was flat, as if she thought Hud wasn’t worth arguing over.

“And you know this by reading my file.” She didn’t know Hud at all. “Maybe there are things that aren’t in my file—that might make you feel differently.”

“I’ve been trained to be a judge of what sells and what works in the system. It’s my professional opinion, nothing more.”

He wasn’t going to take this setback lying down. Rosie DeWitt didn’t know it yet, but her professional opinion was about to change.

“MOMMY!” Casey stumbled away from the table where he’d been sitting and watching the clock. He ran to Rosie on coltish legs that seemed to get longer every week. “Did you forget today was an early day?”

The doctor predicted Casey would be at least six foot five, which shocked Rosie, who only stood five foot three on bad hair days when the fog or rain frizzed her hair an additional vertical inch.

Casey loped past the one other boy still waiting to be picked up, leaping over the action figures he’d spread across the carpet and landing in a way that almost sent him crashing to his knees. Instead of falling, her son hurtled into her, hugging Rosie as only a child can hug.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin.”

On the other side of the glassed entryway, Hudson waited in his car, unaware that Rosie planned to walk home in her bare feet if the rain let up at all. Would he see anything of Samuel in Casey? Or was he too self-involved to notice? She was betting on the latter.

Unwilling to release the love of her life, Rosie half carried, half dragged her son toward the door. Casey squealed with joy and clung tighter until she set him down at the wall of cubbies so they could grab his backpack and a stack of notices.

“It’s Friday. Pizza night! Pizza night!” Casey moved in a jolting rendition of a dance he’d seen advertising an amusement park as Rosie retrieved his coat. Casey raised his arms to the ceiling. “Pep-per-oni! Pep-per-on-i!” Then he looked at her expectantly.

The Friday night pizza dance was one of their rituals and considering she was late again, Rosie didn’t dare short her child on anything else. “Ve-ge-tables. Ve-ge-tables.” She pumped her arms and moved her hips. If Hudson was watching from his car, maybe now he’d understand how much he lacked in personality.

Casey’s lip thrust out. “Gross, not mushrooms.”

“Yum, and green peppers.” Not daring to look behind her at the street, she kept dancing. Now would be a good time for it to stop raining so they could ditch Hudson and walk home.

“No, Mommy,” Casey said, putting a hand on her arm, as serious as the uncle he’d never met and Rosie didn’t want to introduce him to. “I’m gonna tell Chin-Chin only pepperoni on mine.”

“Deal.” Rosie stopped dancing and brushed her finger over his nose. “But only if you eat salad first, Case.”

Rosie wished Ms. Phan a good weekend and turned to find Hudson holding the day care door open for them with one hand and an umbrella in the other. With a smile at Casey, Hudson gestured toward his open car door, barely visible through the steady curtain of rain.

Holding her breath, Rosie searched Hudson’s expression for any indication that he saw some resemblance between Samuel and Casey. Not that there were many. Other than his height, Casey took after Rosie’s side of the family.

“I asked Graham to turn on the radio,” Hudson said, obviously trying not to laugh, but the effort only emphasized the cleft in his chin. “In case you wanted to rock out in the car.”

Instead of sinking against the wall in relief because Hudson hadn’t recognized any of the McCloud attributes in Casey’s features, Rosie gave Hudson the look, the one perfected from years of being a mom, the one that said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Who are you?” Casey asked, backing up a step and rolling his head back so he could see Hudson’s face.

“I’m Hudson McCloud. Your mom’s going to get me elected mayor.”

Ms. Phan made an excited noise and came over to shake Hudson’s hand.

Hudson snuck a triumphant glance at Rosie that seemed to say, “See, people like me.”

“I love your mother,” Ms. Phan gushed, causing Hudson’s smile to falter.

“Most people do,” Rosie acknowledged, grateful that it was only two blocks to Chin-Chin’s Pizzeria and Noodle House and their apartment above it. Her toes were cold and—hallelujah—the ride with Hudson would be too short for much conversation.

Once they were belted into the car and Graham had been given instructions, Casey pressed his nose to the glass and asked, “Can we go to the video store?”

Trying to keep her thigh from touching Hudson’s, Rosie inched closer to Casey. “Let me change first.” And get rid of Hudson.

Casey noticed his breath fogged the window and after emitting several gusts of air, he drew circles on the glass. “No, I want to ride in the car.”

“We’ll drive you,” Hudson offered too eagerly.

“Awesome.” Casey wiped his drawings away, then began blowing on the glass again.

“I’m sure you have business you need to attend to,” Rosie said, tucking her left arm closer to her chest. The less time Hudson spent with Casey the better.

“I don’t bite,” Hudson said, chuckling.

“I’m not going to find out,” Rosie retorted, leaning farther away from him as they turned the corner.

With a glance over his shoulder at Rosie, Casey asked, “Can we go? Plea-ea-ease.” He gave her a toothy grin. “We never get to drive anywhere.”

“There’s a video store a few blocks up,” Graham pointed out, inclining his gray head.

“That’s the one!” Casey bounced in his seat. “This is so cool. I wish we had a car like this.”

Hudson leaned across Rosie, brushing his shoulder against hers as he spoke to Casey. “You could have a car like this at your disposal every day.”

“That’s slick.” Rosie spoke through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how his eyes sparkled when they looked at her. “Now you’re bribing me?”

“It’s not a bribe.” Hudson smiled. “It’s a perk.”

They passed Chin-Chin’s and Rosie suppressed sounds of annoyance.

“I want the cartoon with the mermaid. The one you like.” Casey swung his feet, trying to reach the seat in front of him. “Mommy likes it because the mermaid falls in love. We don’t have a daddy.”

Rosie put a hand on one of Casey’s thin legs. “Settle down. You have to be on your best behavior in the store. No running, use your quiet voice and stay with me.”

Graham pulled into a small parking space in front of the video store. The rain was still coming down. And down. And down. Today wasn’t Rosie’s day for breaks.

“You can wait here,” Rosie said to Hudson, trying to make it sound more like a command than an option.

“And miss out on mermaids? Not a chance.” Hudson’s grin was unexpectedly mischievous.

That couldn’t be. Hudson was the somber, straight-laced, unlikable McCloud. And Rosie wanted him to stay that way.