Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Exactly. It’s an underserved population, one that most people don’t consider in need, probably because everyone’s so vocal with their support. Support doesn’t always last, though, or even translate to any kind of real assistance. Eventually, I’d love if we could function as a one-stop shop for these people leaving military life and returning to civilian status. They need resource referrals, financial assistance, employment service, education, you name it. Some of them have relied on their spouse’s income and have moved around so much they never put down firm roots. They need somewhere they can turn to make the changes a little less overwhelming.”

  “So, what’s the end game? Are you planning to run this on the side while everyone stays at their jobs, or are you looking to make a more permanent switch?”

  “Honestly? I hadn’t thought much about it until recently because it’s always felt like such an abstract concept. Now that it’s really coming together and it looks like we’ll make this thing a reality, I think I’ll make it my full-time job.”

  “Wow, so no more modeling?”

  “I could see myself going out for the odd job now and then, but otherwise, yeah, no more modeling. I’m ready to make a change. More often than not, I’ll be on set and all I can think about is new ideas for Soldier On or solving one of the problems that have cropped up. I’ve seen so much of the world and met a lot of incredible people, but this organization is what I actually care about.”

  “I’m sure you bring a unique perspective to the table, one that really helps focus your mission.”

  “Absolutely. I didn’t have most of the problems we’ll be addressing, but I know what the women are going through. I’ve known plenty of women who could’ve benefited from a place like this. My problems have been more with securing the initial funding as well as figuring out how we plan to keep the doors open and the lights on for the long term. I think we’re talking fundraising tomorrow.”

  “Ah, fundraising. My favorite.” Did anyone enjoy fundraising?

  “Yeah, I guess you know more than most that it’s a necessary evil. I’ll do whatever I need to do but never imagined how difficult it would be to get funding. I guess I thought money would follow the idea.” She laughed softly, gesturing in the darkened car. “I came up with this big idea but realized pretty quickly that I don’t know the first thing about starting or running a nonprofit. My degree is in social work, but I’ve never even worked in my field. My dad is on the board, and he’s got a ton of experience working in social services. It’s been helpful when it comes to the nuts and bolts, and it’s really just nice to have something we love to do together.”

  “My dad was very involved in my first campaign. We had a good experience, but I think it was a bit much for him. Working with family is one of those things that can go either way, I guess.”

  “Oh yeah. I wasn’t sure how it would work out with us, but it’s been great so far. We’ve tackled some big issues together, and so far, so good. Our next big hurdle will be finding a building. That might do us in.” She laughed. “Unless we find an amazing real estate agent, the stress could get to us.”

  Ford may have grown up in the isolated luxury of wealth, surrounded by people who’d never known hardship, but he spent a considerable amount of time in his district. He wasn’t ignorant to the way people lived, the way real people struggled with everyday life. Any organization that helped women and men get back on their feet after losing their spouses in service to the country was one that he’d support. Getting involved with Soldier On could be a great way to pay Lily back for all the time and attention she’d given to him.

  “Do you need anything? I could help.” The thought of spending time with Lily as well as doing something to help such a worthy cause was intriguing.

  She sat up, and while her focused attention was amazing, he missed having her in his arms. “Would you have time?”

  “That depends on what you need, but I’d be happy to do what I can.”

  “Aren’t you super focused on your re-election? I mean, I know you’re kind of getting down to the wire with the campaigning this time of year.”

  “I don’t spend all my time campaigning. I’m here with you tonight, aren’t I?”

  “You know what I mean. Your work time.”

  “I hate to point out the obvious, but the families who benefit from your organization might vote, and fundraiser events are typically full of voters as well. But that’s not why I offered.” She dropped her gaze, and he continued. “Your idea has a lot of promise, and I’d like to help.”

  When she looked back up, he knew if he gave himself half a chance, he could get lost in those eyes. “Thank you. I hate to take advantage of you, but we could really use a big name.”

  “It’s not taking advantage; I offered. Besides, it’ll be nice to help you out for once.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Having you at my side helps every single time we go out. Every fundraiser, every social cocktail hour, every photo op. I invite you because I enjoy your company, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good for my campaign. You definitely make me look good.”

  She grinned, her eyes reflecting flashes of light from passing traffic. “I never thought of it like that, so you’re welcome.” Her light laugh wrapped around him in the car’s dark interior. “Seriously, though, one thing we’re lacking is publicity. It would be amazing if we could get a spot on Good Morning, Dallas. If you have a good contact there, I would really appreciate an introduction. Maybe I could get them to book us for an interview spot.”

  “I actually do know the woman who books their guests, and she is easy to work with, so that’s no problem. Consider it done.” Glad he could help, he enjoyed the soft weight of her settling into the crook of his arm as they rode on.

  Chapter Two

  Monday morning, Springsteen wailed about being born to run, and the air conditioner’s cool breeze cut through the warm fall morning as Ford pulled into his campaign headquarters parking lot. His personal assistant and right hand, Joelle, parked beside his car, already pulling bags over her shoulder as she slid out of her car to meet him. Her average, motherly appearance became radiant, like she was an angel sent from heaven, when she pressed a steaming cup of coffee into his hand.

  “Good morning.” He sipped the scorching liquid and gave her a grateful smile. “Ah, you’re a lifesaver.”

  “Just doing what I have to do to get to work with the human version of Ford Richardson today.” She grinned, and he thought not for the first time that he’d be lost without her steadfast service. Ford couldn’t wait to promote Joelle to assistant to the governor of the great state of Texas. Her talents were wasted on working for a congressman, but all things in good time. For now, they’d focus on winning his congressional re-election in November.

  The unseasonably warm sunshine slowed his stride. Surely it was the weather and not the fact that his opponent was killing him in the polls that dampened his mood. Joelle delivered updates and handed him the corresponding papers as they walked, or scurried as was the case with her. He had a good foot and a half on her and took one step for every two of hers. He juggled the folders and coffee in one hand to hold the door open for her when they reached the building. Staffers and volunteers were already at work, making phone calls, meeting to plan strategies, analyzing data, and proofreading campaign materials. It was a buzzing hive of activity, and there was no place on earth he loved more, whether he was winning or losing. He cut through the crowd, offering his “good mornings” as he made a straight shot for his office at the other end of the room.

  He sipped his coffee, perking up as the rich elixir worked its way into his sleepy system. “What’s first on the agenda?” he asked as he settled into his chair and Joelle seated herself across from him. She crossed her legs and balanced her planner on her knee, scanning the entries. The voicemail light on his office phone was blinking, but he focused his attention on his assistant.

  “Strategy meeting in—” She glanc
ed at the clock. “Five minutes. Sorry. I should have told you to come in earlier.” She winced, clearly not convinced that he could switch gears so quickly. He hadn’t won his first term in office by being slow to adapt. Prepping for an early morning meeting with no time to spare was a cakewalk in comparison.

  “It’s no problem; I’m ready for it. Anything urgent that you want to get off your plate before I go in?” He glanced out into the office. The glass walls and door sometimes reminded him of being an animal in a zoo exhibit, but it was temporary, and he wanted to be fully present. It was good for him to be able to see everything, and he knew that staffers felt more connected when he wasn’t hidden away in some office.

  “Your mother would like you to meet her for lunch at the club sometime this week. She said she couldn’t get a hold of you herself.” Joelle’s smirk said that he owed her one for running interference. “And so she called me. Repeatedly. In addition to leaving multiple voicemails.”

  Joelle deserved a raise for fielding those calls. His mother was nothing if not persistent. “Sorry about that. How does she manage to get along without me when I’m in D.C.? I’ll be there, and I’ll call her to confirm myself. You’re off the hook, and thank you for handling that.” When Jessica Woodall Richardson invited you to lunch, it wasn’t exactly a request. “What else is going on this afternoon?”

  She scanned his schedule, ran a highlighter over a couple of entries, and handed him the page. “I left you a bit of a cushion so you’d have a little wiggle room if lunch runs long, so after that, you just have the Senior Citizen Center dedication this afternoon.”

  “Don’t want to miss that.” Besides being one of his pet projects, the place was full of Republicans who voted early and often.

  On his way to the conference room for the weekly strategy meeting, he took a moment to appreciate the room full of people, all there working on his behalf. His father, the venerable judge Rutherford Buchanan Richardson, Jr., had taught him that. Voters elected people, not ideas, and personal relationships were paramount. He never forgot that, never discounted it. Every facet of his campaign, from the smallest details of the headquarters office layout, to the way he interacted with everyone on his staff, reflected that importance.

  “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted the assembled dream team as he took his seat at the conference table.

  The serious faces lining the table were unreadable, though he knew each of the seven people better than almost anyone. He’d been with the same team since the inception of his first congressional run. Of all the people buzzing around his campaign, these five men and two women were the only ones likely to give him the straight truth, no false hope or shielding him from negatives. He needed it, welcomed it, but today, the heavy atmosphere in the room made him wonder if he might want to avoid it.

  “What’s the latest?” He began the meeting with optimism, though little of it was reflected in the faces surrounding him.

  Charlie Tibbals, the most senior member of the team, cleared his throat. Charlie had worked for Ford’s father, and there was no one in the world he trusted more with his career. “It’s Coldwell. He’s gaining on you in the polls, and we haven’t been able to do much about it.”

  Was it getting worse? His first campaign had been relatively easy, at least as far as congressional races went, and he wasn’t prepared for the constant battle he’d faced ever since Sam Coldwell showed up to oppose his run for re-election. If he only had to face the Democratic candidate, things would’ve been so much easier. Republicans don’t have much difficulty winning in Texas. The rise of the Tea Party and their prevalence in the state was a challenge the team hadn’t anticipated.

  “Ugh. What is it now?” It was always something. His opponent was relentless, as opponents often were, but also possibly the most irritating human on the planet. Sam Coldwell was new money, ultra-conservative, and of course saw himself as the perfect candidate to replace Congressman Richardson, who Coldwell insisted couldn’t understand his constituents. Coldwell loved pointing out their lifestyle and background differences, as though that had real bearing on how Ford executed his duties.

  Charlie answered. “He’s pushing his family values platform like crazy, playing up his perfect conservative persona. His supporters are eating it up.” Coldwell’s entire campaign had been focused on courting the churches and family groups to the exclusion of discussing any real issues, trotting out his perfect wife and son. “Oh, and in case you didn’t hear, Mrs. Coldwell is pregnant with their second child. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was specifically timed to help his campaign. He’s pandering to the bubbleheads who allow themselves to be distracted enough to think that the fact that you don’t have a wife and kids means that you have no idea how regular people live. He’s managed to present himself as the ultimate candidate for constituents who love the lord, their wives, and their kids, and worse, that you’re the polar opposite.” Charlie took a sip of his coffee and shook his head.

  “Remember the good old days when we only had to worry about Democrats? These Tea Party candidates are relentless; it’s always about who’s more conservative.” Ford rubbed his forehead in irritation. “It’s as though the issues don’t matter, as long as you’re more conservative than the other guy.”

  “He must have some amazing speech writers, because as absurd as the whole thing is, he’s convincing voters. People are starting to buy into the idea that you’re not a good conservative because you’re not married. This is a problem.”

  Ford sat back in his chair and held his palms up. “Well, what can I do? I can’t just turn into some family man overnight. If I could materialize the perfect nuclear family, I’d consider it. Too bad I can’t.” Not having a wife or kids at thirty-two didn’t mean Ford didn’t understand the issues facing families in his constituency, but that didn’t stop voters from believing it.

  Charlie straightened a stack of file folders and pushed them toward Ford. “Maybe you can’t, but this is a start.”

  He flipped open the top folder, finding a woman’s photograph and information sheets clamped to either side. “What is this?”

  “After careful analysis of Coldwell’s campaign and voter response, we’ve determined the best course of action is for you to find a wife.” Charlie wasn’t laughing, but surely this was a joke.

  Ford put his coffee down instead of taking a sip. The woman in the folder was lovely and didn’t deserve to have a hot beverage spewed on her face. “Come again?”

  “I know it seems extreme, but believe me, you wouldn’t be the first candidate to use an engagement to his advantage. Since time is of the essence, we’ve done the legwork and found some possible matches for you. These are some solid choices.” He tapped the stack of folders. “You can read through their bios to familiarize yourself with their basic information, and then we will set up a series of meetings so you can get to know some or all of them. These women have been thoroughly vetted, and they have spotless backgrounds and airtight confidentiality agreements.”

  “Forgive me, but are you serious?” Why was he the only one at the table who understood how absurd the discussion was?

  “I know it’s not ideal, but face it, you’re not exactly a hopeless romantic.” His oldest friend and trusted team member, Robert, chimed in. “The chances of you meeting some incredible woman right now, falling in love, and getting engaged within our optimal timeframe are microscopic. This makes it easy, and you could do a lot worse than choosing one of these women.”

  Ford had been a romantic once, but that was a long time ago. “I hear what you’re saying; I really do. But still, I don’t think I should be choosing women out of a stack of folders. I might as well be going to the pound to adopt a puppy.”

  The team laughed, but Ford didn’t see the humor. Charlie spoke up first. “Try not to think of it as a love match. It’s more like choosing someone to be a piece in the campaign puzzle. You have partners for every other aspect of your campaign, and this isn’t much different. The b
est way to get the focus off of your personal life and onto the issues and your voting record is to give the appearance of having a personal life. A wife accomplishes that handily.” Probably seeing that Ford wasn’t convinced, Charlie paused before conceding. “You can limit your commitment to an engagement if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of going through with an actual legal marriage under these conditions. We certainly don’t want you to compromise your personal beliefs, but you’re getting killed in the polls because you’re not seen as a man who values marriage and family.”

  “I’m already seeing someone. It’s not incredibly serious, but I don’t think she’d like it if I got engaged to someone else out of nowhere.” He drummed his fingers on the stack of folders and wondered if Lily would even mind if he stopped seeing her. He’d enjoyed their casual relationship, but perhaps they were a little too casual.

  Robert snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, that model? How about her?”

  “Like I said,” Ford began slowly as though he were speaking to a child. “Things between us aren’t serious. I don’t think she’d be comfortable getting engaged just yet.” Or ever, not that he even knew what she wanted. She’d been married before, but her first husband had been killed in combat mere months after their wedding. She didn’t seem eager to move on and was clearly happy staying single.

  As was he.

  “Perhaps it’s time to have a conversation with her about taking the next logical step in your relationship. Either that, or consider the candidates we’ve found for you.” Caroline sat back in her chair, folding her arms as though the matter were settled.