The woman looked at her watch, spied the Zenith and hustled across the living room. “Excuse me, but I’m under direct orders from the gov—”
Dad ejected himself from his La-Z-Boy. “I’ll have you know, Miss Whos-y-whats, that Jack Hammersmith has no jurisdiction in my living room! Touch my Zenith and I won’t be responsible for my actions.” He shook the rolled-up newspaper at her.
Ms. T. flattened herself against the television, a martyr till the end. “I’m under direct orders to make sure Miss Fine watches the six o’clock news!” She looked like an aging sacrificial maiden, chained to the rocks and waiting for a dragon to come and devour her.
Marly bit back the giggles that threatened to overwhelm her at the sight. “Dad, calm down. Miss Turlington, step away from the Zenith. I will turn it on. Please tell me that the Jack-Ass didn’t fly you here in the Gulfstream to ensure that I witness whatever PR maneuver he’s about to pull off?”
“Well, young lady, I wouldn’t sound so shocked if I were you. If you’d only answer your telephone, such drastic and dramatic gestures wouldn’t be necessary.”
“I’ll thank you not to take that tone with my daughter, Miss Turli-Top!” Ma had surged off the sofa and toward their guest. She poked her in her fleshless breastbone, so that Turls backed up to get away from her. “Have a seat.” She shoved her into a rigidly uncomfortable side chair.
“That’s Turlington, madam.”
“Whatever. What channel, did you say?”
“Seven.”
“Turn the TV to seven, Herman. Marly, move out of the way so we can all see.”
The camera was focused on an empty podium, and a reporter’s voice could be heard in the background. “Now, in just a few moments, folks, Jack Hammersmith will be making his first live public statement since the scandal regarding his hairstylist girlfriend broke in Coral Gables a couple of days ago. We have been unable to speak with Marlena Fine, the woman in question.”
The camera panned to Jack as he entered the room, looking sober and deeply gubernatorial. His royal-blue tie gleamed softly under the intense TV lighting, contrasting with the snowy-white of his shirt and the dark cloth of his suit. Marly’s heart skipped a beat—until the camera showed Carol Hilliard at his side. Then her stomach rose up in revolution and knocked her heart into oblivion.
Oh, God. He was going to formally announce his engagement to that woman, and she was going to vomit all over her parents’ shag carpeting and possibly on Miss Turlington’s ugly shoes. She staggered toward the back hall. “I can’t and won’t watch this.”
Turls popped out of her seat and caught her by the arm. “You have to watch!” Her bony claw held surprising strength.
“I don’t have to do any—”
Jack began to speak in quiet tones as they struggled. “I know that after some surprising and disturbing newspaper headlines, the people of Florida are wondering what’s going on in my personal life. I’d like to thank you for your patience and end your speculation today with this press conference. I am here with my childhood companion and friend, Carol Hilliard….”
“Let go of me!” Marly snapped at Miss Turlington.
“Pay attention!” the woman screeched back.
“Get your hands off my daughter!” Dad’s voice thundered out.
“Everybody, shut up!” yelled Ma.
“The polls have been informing us for a year now that voters think Carol and I are perfect for each other, that we make a great couple, that she’s the ultimate Jackie to my JFK.”
Marly’s stomach heaved again.
“That’s nice. But it’s idyllic thinking. And it’s a fairy tale—let me tell you why. There is, or was, only one JFK, just as there was only one Jackie. Whether or not their marriage was perfect is the subject of a lot of speculation, and I don’t have any of the answers. But Carol and I are not going to become a couple just because poll numbers suggest that we should. We’re not prepared to live a lie.
“Carol and I will not be announcing our engagement today—or ever,” Jack’s voice continued, “although it’s not because of the recent scandal.”
Marly froze.
“Carol, as you can see, is a lovely, multitalented and charming lady. She will make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day.”
“But it won’t be Jack,” Carol said, leaning into the microphone and putting her arm around his shoulder. “Because I’m not in love with him. I’ve known him all my life, and I adore him, but he’s like a brother to me.” She smiled at him and gave him a squeeze. “I don’t want to marry my brother.”
Jack spoke again. “As for me, I’m in love with somebody else, and her name is Marly Fine.”
“What?” Marly stopped trying to pull away from Miss Turlington and instead leaned on her for support. Her knees wobbled and she finally just sank down onto the shag carpet, folding her legs underneath her.
Jack kept on speaking. “I met Marly only a few weeks ago, but I know that I love her and want her in my life. There are a lot of people who have questioned my judgment on this, and to them I say—if you’ve trusted me to run the state of Florida, can you not trust my ability to choose a wife? To read my own heart?
“If not, then I believe I should step down right now and not run for reelection, because you sure don’t have a lot of confidence in me.
“Since I’ve been in office, I’ve been committed to my campaign promises—addressing the falling literacy rates in the state, the immigration issues, better hurricane preparedness and disaster relief efforts for those in need. I have also been committed to Florida families, even as a bachelor governor.
“Now it’s time that I be committed to my own heart and to the woman I love. If that’s going to damage my political image, then so be it. I wouldn’t ask a single one of you to marry for any other reason than love. I hope you won’t expect any different of me.
“We all find love unexpectedly, in all kinds of odd places. Some people find love in high school or college. Some find it next door. Others find love on a train, a flight or a whole other continent. I happened to find love in a hair salon. Is that so hard to believe? I wasn’t in a bar, with alcohol clouding my judgment. I wasn’t a kid in my teens or early twenties. And I wasn’t looking for a woman deliberately through some kind of match service or blind date.
“Marly walked into the room, and I didn’t care what kind of room it was, or what time of day, or if my political advisors would think it was a good idea. I took one look at her, and I was gone.” Jack stopped speaking for a moment and looked down, tightening his hands on the edges of the podium.
“I wish that I could announce my engagement to Marly Fine right now, this minute. But there’s one little hitch—I haven’t been able to ask her a simple question. So I may as well ask her right now, in front of God and everyone. Marly, will you marry me? It doesn’t have to be next week or next month or even next year. We could have the longest engagement of all time. Just say yes. Please.”
Miss Turlington dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief while Marly stared stupidly at the television screen, at the governor baring his soul in front of the entire state…for her.
Jack pulled a small, black-velvet box out of his pocket. “I’ve got the ring right here.”
She gasped, along with the entire audience at the press conference, her parents and Ms. T., who said, “I can assure you that I did not choose that for him, like Carol Hilliard’s birthday present.”
A glow began inside Marly’s heart. Jack wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t a cheap opportunist. He probably was crazy, but he was a good kind of crazy….
“Size six and a half. But I’m not opening this box until I’m in front of you, down on one knee.”
Ohmigod. He even knows my ring size. Even though the rat must have gone back to that security file to get it.
“Aw, come on, Jack!” yelled a reporter. “Show us the rock!”
“Yeah! Give us a look!” called another.
He shook his head. “Nop
e. Sorry, guys. She has the right to see it first.”
“Show us the darn ring!” shrieked Ma, bouncing up and down on the sofa. “I wanna see the ring! That tease.” She shoved the ancient rotary dial phone at Marly. “Call him, Marlena! Tell him he’s killing us, here, already.”
“Ma, he’s not going to answer his cell phone while he’s on live television.”
“You don’t know that until you try, do you? Call him!”
“And say what?”
Ma stared at her. “What, are you stupid? Say yes! And then tell him I want to see the ring. Ohmigod, Herman, wait until my bunko group hears that our daughter is marrying the governor….”
Heart in her throat, Marly dialed Jack’s cell phone number. Embarrassing to admit she knew it by heart, but she did. Amazed, she watched the television screen as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the phone. He looked down at the origination number and gave a huge, young-Dennis-Quaid grin. “Excuse me, folks, but I have to take this call. I believe it’s from the lady in question.”
He flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
“Jack? It’s me.”
“Hi, honey. You’re not calling to break my heart, are you? Anything but that.”
“Um, I don’t think so. But I was hoping we could talk about this face-to-face? A little less publicly?”
“I understand. Can I pick you up in an hour?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell them there’s hope?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I need to hear, then. I love you.”
“I—” Marly swallowed hard. “I think I love you, too. But I’d make a horrible political wife.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Ma screeched, “The ring! Tell him we want to see the ring!”
Jack said dryly, “Your mom sure sounds excited.”
“Yeah, well, I think she can wait an hour to see it. I kind of agree with you that I’d like to see it first. It’s a girl thing.”
“Being the prospective bride, and all.”
“Prospective. Keep that in mind.”
“Marly, honey, are you still gonna play hard to get?”
“It’s just my nature.” But she smiled.
Jack groaned. “Be there before you know it.” He flipped his phone closed and stepped back to the podium. “Marly,” he informed everyone, “says she’s thinking about it.”
The crowd went nuts.
Chapter 21
JACK WAS ACTUALLY nervous as the limo, followed by a Lincoln containing the ever-present Jimmy and Rocket, pulled up to a modest little house with a dolphin mailbox and a door wreath dotted with pink flamingos and green gators. He grinned.
They weren’t Marly’s style at all and she was probably mortified by them. But then again, wasn’t it some kind of law that parents existed to embarrass their children? He figured he’d have his own explaining to do next time the senator closed his tie in an ice bucket after a few too many bourbons. Or pinched Marly’s ass.
News vans and reporters lined the narrow street and correspondents converged on the limo, shouting questions and waving microphones and generally making a nuisance of themselves. They weren’t camped in the yard, though, probably due to the six yellow tractor sprinklers shooting water everywhere. He grinned. That’s one way to handle ’em.
He exchanged a look with Mike, who’d flown with them on the Gulfstream to Fort Myers. Jack had even helped him arrange a couple of pages in the latest scrap-book. He had personally chosen the pink gingham border and the cut-paper tulips that surrounded the photos of Mike’s daughter. He’d also served as a consultant on the white picket fence and the smiley-faced sun in the top right-hand corner. Damn, he was good.
Jack pulled off his tie and left it with his jacket in the car. Then he slid out of the limo, shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way up the sidewalk, flanked by Frick and Frack. Despite his security detail, the reporters swarmed around, but he ignored them, other than saying, “Hi, I had a feeling you guys would be here.”
“Are you here to propose to Marly?”
“Governor, what do you mean, she’s thinking about it?”
Jack reached the flamingo and gator wreath, knocked on the door and begged them all for twenty minutes of privacy. Then he promised he’d make a statement and answer questions.
The door opened about four inches, and an angular old face adorned with a thatch of silvery hair peered out at him. “Good God Amighty, it’s really him, Betty Jo!”
“Lemme see! Move out of the way, old man.” A woman’s face ducked under the man’s arm. Wide blue eyes set in deeply tanned skin registered Jack’s presence. Her mauve lips opened and she squeaked with excitement.
“Hi, I’m Jack Hammersmith. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Fine. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Jack stuck out his hand, half-afraid that they might close it in the door. But the man opened it farther, and the woman locked onto the gubernatorial hand and yanked him inside. Jimmy and Rocket remained outside, one in the front and one circling to the back of the house.
“We are right delighted to meet you, Mr. Governor,” said Marly’s mother. “Please come on in and have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like a glass of iced tea? A corn muffin?”
“No, thank you…”
They tried to install him in what was clearly the king of the castle’s La-Z-Boy, but Jack looked up and saw Marly standing there, taking in the scene with amusement. “Hi,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He moved toward her, taking in her bare feet, long sea-foam-green cotton gypsy skirt, and simple white tank top. Around her neck she wore a shell that dangled from a brown leather band. Her eyes shone a deep, clear blue-green and her skin was freshly scrubbed. Her hair was in its regulation braid, which she’d pulled over her left shoulder. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
He clenched his hand around the box in his pocket, and her eyes followed the movement. Then she looked meaningfully at her father, and Jack picked up on the clue.
“Mr. Fine, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”
“Why, yes sir.”
He followed the man into his formal dining room, where they had a seat at the table. Marly’s mother suddenly discovered something that she urgently had to do in the kitchen, right next to the dining room’s open door.
“I’ve never really, uh, done this before,” said Jack. “So I guess I’ll get right to the point. I was hoping for your blessing, sir, since I’d like to marry your daughter.”
Mr. Fine sneezed twice in quick succession, and so Jack felt obliged to bless him. Then he sat hoping for his turn.
“You love her, do you?”
“Yes, sir, I do. I said it right on television.”
“You’ll treat her right?”
“Always and forever.”
“You think I could, uh, borrow her back every once in a while?”
Jack put his hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed. “I think we could probably arrange that.” He smiled. “Not that she’ll ask my permission about anything.”
“No, that she won’t.” Mr. Fine looked down at his worn, callused hands, seeming to hesitate. Then he said, “She ain’t a fancy dinner party kind of gal. Don’t go trying to change her, you hear?”
Jack said quietly, “I love her just the way she is. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Herman Fine met his gaze squarely and then stuck out his hand. “Well, then, you got my blessing.”
MARLY GUESSED she was her mother’s daughter, after all, since she wasn’t too proud to eavesdrop, either—from behind the other doorway. Tears filled her eyes at her father’s words and at Jack’s responses. And they continued as Jack shared the story of his great-great-grandfather and the cameo of his Italian bride.
They caught her red-handed when she sniffled and they both stuck their heads around the doorway.
“What?” she said defensively. “Li
ke you wouldn’t have done the same thing?”
Her father shook her head at her and disappeared into the kitchen, saying that he and Betty Jo were going to take a run to the grocery store.
Jack grinned and admitted that he’d have had a cup to the wall. “So,” he said, sidling up to her and nudging her with his hip, “have you been thinking?”
The hip in question was covered with a pocket, in which there was some kind of box. Marly had a feeling she knew what the box might contain.
“Yes. I’ve been thinking.”
Jack got down on one knee. “Have you been thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Jack, wait.”
“Nope, I can’t wait anymore. I’m all waited out.”
“But I have some questions! Serious questions.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “Shoot.”
“As the governor’s wife, could I still wear blue toenail polish?”
“Yep. You’ll be a trendsetter.”
“And rubber flip-flops?”
“Anywhere but the White House or a formal dinner, babe.”
“Can I still disagree with you politically? Because I will, you know.”
“I count on you to disagree with me. Life would be boring if you didn’t. Just do me a favor and don’t call the Republican Party the Dark Side in public.”
“That’s a lot to ask, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m a real demanding sonuvabitch. Now can I get on with the proposal?”
“No. I still have questions.”
“Jeez,” he said. “You sure are hard on a guy’s kneecaps!”
“Sorry. But this is important. As the governor’s wife, could I still cut hair?”
Jack ruminated. “As long as disgruntled clients can’t sue the state government for damages, I think it’d be okay.”
“Jack, I’ve never had a disgruntled client. Well, maybe one. But that was back in beauty school, and her hair didn’t stay purple for more than a couple of hours, I promise.”
“What a relief…I have a thought, though. You can definitely still cut hair if you want to, but here’s the thing—I’m not the poorest guy you’ve ever dated. So if you want to keep your partnership in the salon but only work a couple of days a week, you have that option. The other few days a week you could either be a devoted gubernatorial wife or you could paint.”
Midnight Madness Page 18
