Barbara Boswell Landsl

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and everything everyone else was secondary.
She'd seen it with her father all her life. Bradford
Lipton wasn't a malicious person. He didn't mean
to hurt his family, but he did, constantly, through
his omissions. The senator was unavailable and
preoccupied, which made him remote and insensi-
tive to his family, who were not similarly con-
sumed by his political career. And with Justin, it
was simply more of the same.
"I'm going home now, Justin." There was no rea-
son for her to stay.
"No!" he said fiercely, and moved to block the
door. "Stacey, I'm not going to let you "
The telephone rang, and for Stacey it was a most
welcome interruption. "Wait!" Justin said as he
picked up the phone, and the uncharacteristic
plea in the voice that usually snapped out orders,
caused her to pause on the threshold.
And then: "He what?" Justin's voice exploded
like a blast from a cannon. "No, the senator has no
comment at this time. We will release a statement
later in the day. No, I have no comment on the sub-
ject. I feel it would be inappropriate to comment on
the matter at this point in time."
Stacey recognized the look on his face and the
tone of voice. What had one of her brothers done
now? she wondered. Justin placed the receiver in
its cradle with a thud. His dark eyes were stormy.
"What happened?" she asked, her curiosity over-
coming her desire to escape.
"An interview with your brother Lucas was pub-
lished in the campus newspaper yesterday."
Justin's nostrils flared. They really did. She
wouldn't have been surprised to see steam come
forth when he exhaled.
"And today," he went on, "some of his more
memorable remarks were reprinted in the local
paper in town, where some sharpie pointed out
certain comments to the wire services." Justin
picked up a pencil and snapped it in two. "The
story will appear in all the papers throughout the
country by tomorrow morning."
Stacey's eyes widened. National news coverage
for Lucas? That sounded ominous. "What did
Lucas say?" she dared to ask.
"Oh, the boy said quite a few things. When asked
what he liked to do in his leisure time when not
playing football, Lucas Lipton was quoted as say
ing that he liked to drink beer, shoot pool, and"
Justin's voice rose "expletive deleted girls!
Except he didn't delete the expletive!"
Stacey could just hear Lucas say it in that jovial,
bad-boy way of his. She laughed.
It was a major mistake. Justin positively glow-
ered at her. "It's not funny!" he thundered. "Do you
realize his remarks will be aired in the national
press? And it's just the sort of anecdote that the
network newscasters like to throw in at the end of
their broadcasts. The son of the upright senator
who espouses all the traditional morals and values
likes to "
"Oh, Justin, you're overreacting again. Lucas is
a college kid, and a football player too. His answer
won't shock anyone. It's what they'd expect of him.
Everybody knows darn well that a good-looking
college jock's pastimes aren't going to be making
fudge and playing with toy trains."
"Why couldn't he have said they were!" Justin
groaned. "You're underestimating the seriousness
of the situation, Stacey. The liberal press is hostile
to your father. Their own media darling is Whit
Chambers, and anything anything derogatory
that they can pin on Bradford Lipton is maximized
to the nth degree. Our polls show that your father's
message is reaching the people, but it's an uphill
struggle against those piranhas of the press. And
what we didn't need the week that the senator
announces his candidacy is for his son to
announce that he is a beer-drinking, pool-
shooting "
"Expletive-deleter of girls," finished Stacey.
Justin got so wrapped up in every trivial detail, she
thought. It was what made him an invaluable aide,
but it would also contribute to ulcers, high blood
pressure, and heaven knows what else. A sense of
humor was essential, a lifesaver. She smiled at
him, hoping to bring forth a similar response.
Justin threw up his hands, his frustration obvi-
ous. "I might have known you would find the whole
incident hilarious." He headed for the door,
scowling. "Sterne and Spence will probably be roll-
ing with laughter too. Sometimes I think the four
of you work at coming up with politically embar-
rassing remarks. Sometimes I think you're all on
the payroll of the opposition!"
She heard him in the corridor, calling the staff
together to discuss the latest gaffe and to prepare a
suitable statement for the soon-to-be-clamoring
press. He'd left her without a single backward
glance.
Stacey decided to go home. There was certainly
nothing for her to do here. And the sight of any one
of the errant Lipton offspring at this particular
time was liable to make the senator's staff foam at
the mouth. She drove back to her apartment,
depression weighing heavily upon her. The idyll
with Justin was indeed over. The closeness was
gone and they stood on opposite sides, unable even
to see the other's point of view, totally separated by
the unbreachable gulf of politics.
Back in her apartment, she made herself a cup of
tea and sat down to drink it, hoping to soothe her
shattered spirits. Everything was moving too
quickly. Her mind was whirling with confusion,
compounded by fear. Justin . . . the baby . . . the
campaign . . . Her thoughts tumbled through her
head like pieces in a kaleidoscope, and the images
she saw differed every time. What was the right
thing to do? And how would she know to do it?
When the doorbell rang, Stacey assumed that
Brynn had forgotten her key. She was a little early, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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