A Different Light Page 9

  Athen splurged on a new dress for the occasion, after Callie pointed out that she had nothing suitably formal and yet professional to wear to the rally.

  “It’s 2009, Mom.” Callie scowled at every dress Athen withdrew from her closet. “Women are into power dressing. I saw it on Oprah.”

  Athen rolled her eyes, but allowed Callie to drag her to the mall for something more appropriate.

  Callie assured her that she was content to wear a dress that Meg had sent her last spring, a light green sundress with a light sprinkling of floral embroidery across the bodice and a ruffle at the bottom.

  “I thought you hated that dress.” Athen had been fully prepared to bribe Callie out of her favorite cutoffs and new soccer cleats for the event if it had been necessary, but Callie had volunteered to wear the sundress.

  “Mom.” Callie grinned. “I’m going to be First Kid. It’s okay if I look like a geek for one night.”

  Athen was barely zipped into her own new dress—a linen sheath in a deep shade of red, not too tight, not too short, not too low-cut—before Rossi’s driver rang the doorbell. She called to Callie to go out and tell Mr. Rossi she’d be down in a second.

  Last-minute doubts plagued her and she fumbled with her necklace. The garnet and gold piece her mother had worn on her wedding day was perfect with the dress. She wondered at the wisdom of her decision not to cut her hair or, at the very least, to have piled it on top of her head instead of leaving it to hang straight down her back in a thick black waterfall.

  “Too late now,” she muttered as she fastened the garnet earrings on and stepped back to take a look at herself.

  “Mom,” Callie shouted up the steps, “Mr. Rossi said we have to leave right now.”

  The butterflies in her stomach transformed themselves into something more sinister and were now in the process of gnawing painfully at her insides as she ran down the steps. From the moment she’d made her decision she’d had no time for second thoughts. God, she prayed fervently as she closed the front door behind her, I hope I’m doing the right thing.

  The biennial rally was traditionally hosted by the party at the home of one of the more well-to-do contributors. This year’s honor went to Hughes Chapman, who, with his new wife in tow, would greet the movers and shakers on the spacious grounds of their sprawling home just inside the city limits. Rossi’s driver carefully made the sharp turn into the Chapmans’ drive and ceremoniously opened the back door to assist his passengers as they exited.

  Athen caught her breath at the sight of the redbrick Georgian mansion and the graceful grounds that spread out in every direction.

  “What does Mr. Chapman do?” she whispered to Dan.

  “Well, locally, he owns the Woodside Herald, but that’s not where the money is. Real estate, professional sports teams, you name it. I heard he just bought a cable station, wants to make it a news powerhouse. Doesn’t get much involved in politics except through his wallet.” Dan shook out the arms of his dinner jacket so that the sleeves hung just so. “Only reason I tolerate that damned rag and its liberal reporters is because he owns it. Turned it over to his daughter last year, I think.” He plastered a smile on his face. “Hughes, great to see you again …”

  “Dan, welcome.” Their host offered a warm greeting.

  Jovial and round with twinkling eyes, at first glance, Hughes Chapman called to mind jolly old St. Nick without the beard.

  “So, this is Athena Moran.” He grabbed both of Athen’s hands in his and chuckled. “We’ve heard quite a bit about you over the past week or so. Lydia,” he said to the elegantly dressed woman to his left. “Lydia, dear, say hello to Dan Rossi and Athena Moran.”

  Lydia Chapman’s greeting was, Athen felt, oddly cool under the circumstances.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Chapman.” Athen tried to smile despite the close scrutiny of the very sophisticated Mrs. Chapman.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Moran.” She smiled cordially, yet there was no real warmth in her blue eyes. She turned to the young woman who stood next to her and said, “Brenda, meet Athena Moran. Brenda is my stepdaughter.”

  Brenda’s eyebrows raised slightly as she inspected Athen more carefully than the occasion would seem to have warranted.

  “So you’re Athena Moran,” she said in a low voice.

  Brenda had golden blond hair piled atop her head, with errant wisps that floated around her face. She wore an ankle-length white silk dress that made no attempt to hide the many curves of her body. She looked to be around thirty, and was every bit as elegant and sophisticated as her stepmother.

  Moved forward by incoming partygoers, Dan caught Athen by the elbow and, following the crowd, steered her and Callie toward the tent that dominated the lawn to the left of the house. Athen turned back once, feeling Brenda Chapman’s eyes burning between her shoulder blades.

  What, Athen wondered, is that all about?

  She managed one last peek at Mrs. Chapman. There’s something that seems familiar about her, she thought, though I know we’ve never met.

  “Boy,” Callie exclaimed, “you could have one heck of a track here. You could do a quarter-mile with no problem.”

  Hundreds of people swarmed inside the tent, happy, friendly bees in an undersized hive. A podium had been built at the far end for the occasion. It loomed before Athen’s eyes like Mount Everest.

  Oh, God, she thought as her head began to swim, there is no way I can get up there in front of all these people. The small shred of self-confidence she had recently rediscovered was suddenly AWOL.

  “Dan.” Panicked, she clutched at his sleeve. “I changed my mind. I can’t do this.”

  Dan chuckled kindly and patted her arm. “It’s just a little stage fright, that’s all. You’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t be fine. You don’t understand.” Her voice was a wild whisper. “It’s not just stage fright. I’m scared to death. I won’t remember what to say.”

  “You just read the speech I gave you in the car and you’ll do fine.”

  He motioned to Harlan to get the show on the road.

  Dan wants to get this over with. He thinks I’m about to bolt, she noted grimly. And he’s right.

  “Athen, I want you to stand right here. Come on, Callie, you stay with your mother and keep her calm, that’s a good girl.” Dan escorted them to a position in the front right section of the happy crowd.

  Thunderous applause greeted Dan as he approached the microphone atop the podium.

  “Friends,” he said, and a wave of cheers washed over him, the crowd assuring him that they were, indeed, his friends. “Thank you, thank you, I appreciate that … thank you …”

  When the crowd was subdued, he began again. “Friends, eight years ago I stood here and accepted your nomination for mayor. It has been the greatest honor of my life to have served you. Nothing I’ve ever done has given me greater satisfaction than holding this esteemed office. I thank each and every one of you for the support you’ve given me over the years.”

  More applause.

  “Tonight we meet to officially nominate my successor. Now, some might say that choosing your own successor is a little like choosing your own executioner,” he quipped and the crowd laughed. “But not so. Our party offered many fine possible candidates, many good and willing servants to choose from. Now, our city faces serious challenges over the next few years, my friends. We’ve lost countless jobs as the factories closed and businesses have moved elsewhere. Our streets are lined with the homeless and the north side of town has been described as a battle zone. I searched my heart long and hard, believe me, for the answer to the question: In whose hands would this city be most secure? In seeking the answer, I knew we had to find a fresh approach to government. I recognized that the old ways will not resolve the new problems. And I knew, too, that our next mayor must be someone of unblemished character, someone whose life was nurtured with the very essence of public service. Yes, as I prepared to leave office, I recognized my sacred
responsibility to bring before you the best man …”

  The silence was overwhelming. The best man? Had Rossi changed his mind about Athen Moran? From the corner of her eyes, Athen watched as several of the previously denied members of Council stood a little straighter and fixed their ties, their color a little higher, their eyes bright with the hope that Rossi had finally come to his senses. Dan held every member of the audience firmly in his hands. Heads nodded in agreement as he spoke.

  As Diana Bennett had once noted, this crowd would vote for Lassie if Rossi asked them to.

  “… the man most worthy to represent you in City Hall, the best man to continue the job I began eight years ago.” He paused thoughtfully, then slowly unveiled his best politician’s smile. “Only this time, ladies and gentlemen, I believe the best man for the job … is a woman. Good friends, I give you Athena Stavros Moran.”

  He motioned joyfully to Athen, his signal for her to join him at the podium. She could not move. Neither her legs nor her mouth, nor any muscle in her body, would respond to the commands he was giving her. Finally, still smiling broadly, he stepped down and held out his arm to her.

  “Dan, I can’t …” Her terrified whisper was totally ignored, as if he had not heard her. He grabbed her arm and placed it through his and all but dragged her through the beaming crowd, which was now loudly applauding her appearance on the stage beside him.

  He let the cheering of the crowd feed upon itself, as if knowing it would incite them to a level of acceptance of anything he had to say. At the appropriate moment, he motioned for their attention. When the din beneath the tent began to diminish slightly, he began to speak again.

  “Thirty years ago, I entered public life as a leader of the second ward,” he told them solemnly, “a position I am not ashamed to say I battled City Hall to achieve. At the same time, our fellow citizens in the fourth ward led a battle of their own. Our growing number of Greek residents fought to be heard. They selected as their spokesman a young man named Ari Stavros. A man who had come to this country just ten years earlier, seeking a better life for his beloved and the family they hoped to raise here. Sadly, his dream was shattered in the worst possible way. Many of us were there with him, sharing his grief, the day his beautiful wife, Melina, lost the battle she fought so bravely for so long.

  “But personal tragedy did not deter this fine man from giving his all to his community. As the years passed, we watched Ari grow in wisdom and in leadership. We applauded his rise to city council, for we all knew he was a man of honor who would serve his city with the utmost devotion. And all through those years, we watched his little girl grow up right here in Woodside Heights.”

  Oh, Dan, enough. Athen ground her teeth.

  “We watched that little girl grow into a lovely young woman, watched her marry one of our own. Sadly, we watched as the devastation of Ari’s first stroke took his voice from Council. Then, less than three years later, we watched as yet another cruel blow of fate struck this good family.”

  For the love of God, Dan.

  Athen fought the urge to grab the microphone from him and hit him over the head with it.

  “Was there a sadder day in Woodside Heights than the day young John Moran was shot down on the street, the day he sacrificed himself for each and every one of us?” Rossi wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, as many of the onlookers had been doing for the past five minutes.

  Callie squirmed uncomfortably and finally buried her face in Athen’s chest.

  My poor girl, I’m so sorry, Athen told her wordlessly as she stroked the child’s back. I had no idea he was going to do this, baby, I’m so sorry.

  She kicked Rossi’s ankle sharply, hoping he got the message.

  “Athena Moran is a woman whose roots are firmly buried in the soil of this city, literally and figuratively.” He raised a clenched fist in the air and Athen flinched, exhaling through her teeth. “A woman who understands sacrifice for the common good, understands what it takes to be a dedicated public servant, and she has graciously agreed to offer her service to you. Please lend your support to her as you once did to her father … to her husband. To me …”

  The crowd exploded, nearly lifting the top off the tent as Rossi drew Athen closer to the microphone. Her legs were on the verge of giving out, melting like ice in the 90-degree heat inside the tent, her knees knocking together like crazed bongos.

  “Smile pretty,” he shouted into her ear, and she tried to force her mouth into some shape that might pass for one. She held on to Callie, gripping the child’s hands in hers until Callie yelled, “Mom, you’re breaking my fingers!”

  “Where’s your speech, Athen?” Dan asked through his teeth. “The one I gave you …”

  Athen fumbled in her purse.

  “This is your debut, honey, don’t blow it.” He was still grinning, continuing to wave to the crowd as he stepped back and pushed her to the center of the podium. Adjusting the microphone to her shorter height, he jabbed her in the back and said, “Go.”

  She cleared her throat as she unfolded the speech Dan had written for her, praying she could do more than squeak unintelligibly as she had in last night’s dream. The prepared speech was long, and as she scanned it she saw references to her father and to John. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her daughter waiting anxiously for her to begin. Athen folded up Dan’s speech and hid it in the palm of her hand. She could not subject Callie to any more of the painful reminders of the past, not for Dan, not for anyone. She leaned slightly forward to the microphone and prayed she would not make a fool of herself.

  “I would like to thank Mayor Rossi for this opportunity to address you, not only as a citizen of Woodside Heights, but as a hopeful candidate for office. I know that my experience is thin”—it was Rossi’s turn to kick her—“but I assure you my convictions run deep. I love this city and I promise you that if I am fortunate enough to have your support, I will continue the fine work begun under Dan’s leadership. If I am elected, I will do my best to make you all proud of me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see a white shadow. Brenda Chapman moved closer to the podium. It was not the woman’s stare that momentarily rendered Athen unable to speak, but the stance of the man who accompanied her. Quentin Forbes stood with his arms folded over his chest, his face tight, his eyes locked onto Athen’s, clearly mocking her from across the room. There was no smile of recognition, no sign that they had only so recently decided to be friends. Dumbstruck, Athen momentarily forgot where she was and what she was doing. Dan’s second kick at the back of her ankle reminded her.

  “… and I … I guess that, umm, other than to, umm, thank my daughter for accompanying me, and, umm, thanking Dan for his support, I … I’ve not much else to say except that I’d appreciate your vote come November.” Athen backed away from the podium to enthused cheers of encouragement, looking for Quentin in the crowd. She saw only a glimpse of his back as Brenda looped a bare arm through his and led him to the bar at the back of the tent.

  Why is he acting like that? she wondered. Why did he look at me as if I was a stranger? So he’s dating Brenda Chapman. That has nothing to do with me. …

  “… and so I ask you to support my nomination of Athena Moran for mayor of our fine city,” she heard Rossi say. “All in favor …”

  The ayes were like thunder, the nays nonexistent. And so Athen’s nomination was official. Unless something ridiculous happened—like the residents being taken over by pod people from another planet—Athena Moran most certainly would be the next mayor of Woodside Heights.

  She shook hands and accepted kisses on the cheek from what seemed like hundreds of well-wishers as she attempted to make her way toward the bar to get something for her dry throat.

  “Well, congratulations, Athen.” Diana Bennett stood before her. “I must say this all came as a big surprise. A very big surprise, under the circumstances. I wish you well, of course.”

  “What do you mean, under the circumstances?”


  “Suffice it to say that I wish you had talked to me before you let Dan talk you into this.” Diana’s gaze was level and cool. Almost as cool as Lydia and Brenda Chapman’s, but nowhere near as cool as Quentin Forbes’s glare.

  “What are you talking about?” Athen felt a creeping rush of fear.

  “Mom, there’s a stable down there, I can see it.” Callie tugged at her sleeve. “Can I go down and see if there are horses?”

  “They have some beautiful horses, Callie. Would you like me to show you?” Diana offered as she broke eye contact with Athen.

  “Can I, Mom?” Callie pleaded.

  “Of course.” Athen nodded.

  “Call me sometime, Athen,” Diana said as she walked off with Callie. “We’ll have a chat.”

  Everyone is acting so odd tonight. Diana, Quentin, the Chapmans …

  She could not keep up with the conversations around her, and at the first opportunity she fled from the tent to the house in search of the ladies’ room, where hopefully she’d have a few moments to herself and could think more clearly. She entered the back door and followed the signs that led to a long hall.

  Quentin was leaning against an open doorway.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the next mayor of Woodside Heights.” Judging by his speech, the drink he held was not his first.

  “Hello, Quentin,” she said cautiously.

  “Nice little speech Mr. Rossi gave for you.” He emptied the glass. “Nice touch, dragging out your family tree, Athen, or should I say ‘Your Honor’? Now there’s a joke.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He smirked.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She backed away, confused.

  “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? is the question.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve been looking at me as if I have some disease since the minute you first saw me in there, Quentin.”

  “You do have a disease, all right. It’s called political ambition. Manifested by letting a pimp like Rossi lead you out here and parade you around, stepping over the bodies of your father and your husband to get you where you want to be.”