30

With the primaries over, Nathan’s run for governor took center stage, as did the need to be out on the road selling his ideas for change to Texans.

Unlike his earlier bid for a senate seat, which had been limited to District 14 and Travis County, a statewide election would encompass much more travel and personal appearances at events across the state.

Nathan clipped up the steps into the campaign bus, feeling buoyed by the response of a crowd of veterans and their families at an event held at VFW Post 7835. These supporters clearly connected with his narration that government leaders needed to be men and women of deep character, that the climate of the state and even the country was plummeting because of a severe deficit of principles in politics.

They all agreed his was a very important voice that needed to be heard.

As he entered the bus, his staffers broke into applause. Janesa Morgan grinned and waited several seconds before she stood and held up her hand. “Okay, everyone. That’s what we’re talking about.” His campaign manager had to project loudly to be heard over the high school band that played outside the bus windows. “This is only the beginning of the political earthquake that is going to shake Wyndall Holiday and his tired and predictable malarkey out of the governor’s office.”

This met with enthusiastic nods from those sitting at the tables and sofas, armed with iPads and Bluetooth devices.

People didn’t like to think of elections as armed combat, but of course they were. Make no mistake, Nathan Emerson had declared war on the Holiday era, and the people on this bus were his foot soldiers. Janesa Morgan, his general.

In the early stages of forming his campaign strategy, it was Janesa who assembled a think tank comprised of the best talent she could find to create a brand that would connect with Texas voters. These creative minds came up with a winning salvo.

NATE EMERSON—A HEART AND MIND FOR TEXAS.

Each time he walked across a stage to a podium and microphone, in the background played “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” including the soundtrack clap-clap-clap-clap. A bit corny, but an immense hit with focus groups from the key voting sectors across the state.

These epistles were meant to convey his integrity and sense of wanting to make Texas a better place to work, play, and raise a family. Together with his past voting record, these strategies had polled well and would hopefully march him up the steps of the state capitol and into the office of the governor.

Fund-raising was headed up by a former college buddy. Colin McElroy could be trusted to handle his mother, who would no doubt be attempting to supervise every aspect of his campaign, but especially the money. Behind the scenes, of course.

Nate grabbed a Dr Pepper from the bus refrigerator and slid into a seat opposite Janesa. “Okay, so what’s on the agenda for Dallas?”

“I’ve loaded your specific talking points.” She handed him an iPad. “You’ll notice a slight difference in the message for Tarrant versus Dallas County, primarily economic focus. Except for that adjustment, just keep to our general theme and we’ll have a repeat of what you just pulled off here in Granbury.”

He nodded and checked his watch.

“You have time to catch a quick break. Why don’t you go back and try to sleep? I’ll make sure to wake you in plenty of time to get ready for the rally. We have a full few days ahead, and you’ll appreciate the rest, even if brief.”

“Yeah, the high is wearing off, and I am growing tired.” He patted her shoulder as she returned to her Mac, her fingers already clicking away on the keyboard. “Catch you in a few.”

He retreated to the back of the bus where a full-size bed awaited. Good intentions of refreshing himself with some sleep were short-lived, however. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his mind raced forward.

After his speech at the American Airlines Center, he would be taking Tiffany to dinner. She was in Dallas for a deposition, which conveniently allowed them some time together.

He’d texted her after the birthday party, but their schedules had crisscrossed and this was the first time they’d been able to connect in person.

While he hated to admit his mother was right, he’d done a lot of thinking and knew he needed to officially end their relationship.

He did need to make a choice.

About Tiff, certainly.

More importantly, he needed to finally admit that he couldn’t seem to chase Leta Breckenridge from his mind.

The Friday night crowd at Five Sixty was loud and happy. Conversation flowed easily as patrons enjoyed the panoramic views of the Dallas skyline from the top of Reunion Tower.

He’d much prefer a good steak and baked potato, but he remembered Tiffany had raved about this place after the last time she’d stayed in Dallas, how she’d loved the Asian-influenced cuisine and the illuminated glass bar and lounge area.

Tiffany glanced across the table at him and frowned. “What’s up with you tonight, Nate? You’ve barely cracked a smile since we got here.”

“Finally able to quit smiling,” he explained with a forced brightness in his voice. “I’ve been cheerful since five this morning.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She reached a manicured hand over the polished enamel table and touched the back of his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

She was such a great girl, he thought wistfully. Early in their relationship they’d been together in the greenroom of KVUE, the local ABC news station in Austin. She was scheduled to do a segment on the Austin city council’s proposed Climate Protection Plan and how the targeted levels of emission reductions would affect local businesses.

Her passion was contagious, her advocacy sharp and well thought out. He remembered watching her on the monitor and thinking she was incredible. And beautiful.

Apparently, she’d been as interested in him.

He finished his interview and left the hot lights of the studio to find she’d waited for him.

“If you feel that impassioned about your health cause, you need to do something about it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s easy to spout political views, but a whole other thing to actually step up and do something that changes the way government funds are allocated,” she challenged.

“I beg your pardon. I do a lot.” He pointed back at the studio door. “I happen to be really good at influencing and changing the way people think. It’s really a matter of education.”

She grinned. “Oh, phooey. Real change happens when you insert yourself into the process, when you position yourself as a decision maker. It’s why lobbyist organizations pay hundreds of thousands to get in front of elected officials—the ones who decide how everything is run by wielding power the rest of us don’t have.”

“Is that so?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t believe me? Run for office and prove I’m wrong.”

The truth was simple. He wouldn’t be running for governor today if it hadn’t been for Tiffany.

Even so, he fought the urge to pull his hand back. Instead he cleared his throat and simply moved past her comment about missing him. “How’d the deposition go?”

She gave him a hesitant look, withdrew her hand from his, and leaned back in her chair. “Well, this is one where I wished I was sitting on the plaintiff’s side of the table.”

Nate reached for his water goblet. “How so?”

“It’s clear that opposing counsel is setting up to seek class action status. Frankly, I think the complainants would be awarded a favorable ruling. While we have seismologists who will assert an existing fault line is to blame, the timing of the gas drilling in the area certainly suggests the actions of our clients may be a contributing factor. I think the whole case will come down to allocation of liability.”

He pulled the goblet to his lips and paused before taking a drink. “Sounds like protracted litigation.”

Tiffany shrugged. “Not exactly a bad thing,” she said with a slight grin. She leaned forward and picked up her menu. “Are you going to let me order for you?”

“Do I dare?”

Ignoring his remark, she waved over a waiter. “I think we’re ready here.” She handed off the menu to a man in a crisp white linen jacket that was buttoned down the front. “We’ll start off with some salt and pepper calamari and pot stickers with dan dan sauce. Follow that with orders of your lacquered Chinese duckling and lapsong sausage fried rice.” She turned to Nate. “Do you think we’ll want dessert?” Before he could respond, she turned back to their waiter. “I think we’ll end our meal with a chocolate martini in lieu of anything off the dessert menu, but check back with us. Okay?”

Their waiter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked back at Nate then. “What?”

“Do you always know exactly what you want?”

She tilted her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He groaned inside. “That. Is there ever a time you feel unsure of yourself? Ever not know which direction to go, what to say, where to turn?”

Tiffany looked at him like he was crazy. Which gave him his answer.

He’d meant to wait until after dinner, but he’d just opened up a discussion he couldn’t pull back from.

She seemed to sense it too and picked up her chopsticks as if they were weapons. “If you have something you want to say, I suggest you be direct.”

He heard her attorney voice, but not before he noticed her fingers tremble slightly as she tightened her grip on the sticks. While he’d wrestled with what he wanted to say, even rehearsed exactly how he would begin, his carefully chosen words failed him now.

This time he was the one who reached across the table. He took her hand in his. “You know you matter to me—”

She pulled back, the look in her eyes so raw it took him by surprise. “But?”

He swallowed. “But I don’t think I’m being entirely fair.”

The waiter reappeared at their table, his arms laden with small platters. He placed them on the table. “Your entrées will be out soon.”

Nate thanked him while Tiffany simply stared out the windows. The setting sun filled the vista with color, a hue similar to that of orange sherbet.

“Tiffany,” he said, trying to return to their earlier discussion.

She held up her palm. “That girl, Leta Breckenridge. Did you know she works for Holiday’s camp?”

He stopped short. “What?”

“It’s true. She’s employed by the Ladd Agency, which is really just a front for Holiday’s oppo machine.”

Now it was his turn to stare. “Why are you bringing up Leta?”

“Why am I talking about Leta?” The look in Tiffany’s eyes sharpened. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but—”

“Don’t Clinton me! This girl may not be an intern in a little blue dress, but somehow she’s pulled a Monica. You keep this little infatuation up and she’ll take you down. You’re not as bright as I thought if you somehow missed that fine point.”

He tossed his napkin to the table. “Now you’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” She pulled her iPhone from her bag and worked her thumbs furiously over the face. “Here. I’m forwarding Bernard Geisler’s number.” She huffed and pushed the phone back into her purse. “Next time she’s looking at you with those doe eyes, I dare you to ask how she knows him.”

“Tiffany—”

She stood. “Goodbye, Nate.” Without saying anything more, she turned and walked away.