The McAllister home sat behind manicured grounds atop a small rise, well back from the road. A half-dozen pillars fronted the mansion and reached to the third floor; a second floor balcony sat over the imposing front portico. The façade was white brick. I viewed some smaller buildings to the rear of the side-loading garage. One looked like a cottage, and then a large barn-like structure with double garage doors, and two one-story rambler-type buildings.
Senator Dalton had mentioned that her father took the saying “A man’s home is his castle” literally.
“We keep horses,” Rufus said. “Everybody in the family rides. It’s the main way I get to see Rusty, Reggie, and the grandkids. My sister and her husband are visiting. Sadie’s mother and father, both in their early nineties, are coming next week and staying a month. The old guy still plays golf. We’ll go out a few times.”
The governor had gained wealth, prominence, property, and the envy of many. Yet, he said all that without feeling—it just came out like a rambling of facts. With everything he had, he did not have the family he wished for.
Mrs. M met us as we entered through the kitchen and fussed over me. Rufus excused himself, while she showed me around the house. It was all very impressive. She wished I could stay with them, but I told her that the paper preferred my staying on my own, that it was better this way. She told me she understood, and I believed she did.
She showed me her daughter’s room. “It’s so wonderful when Ro stays with us. She was just here last weekend. Time goes by so fast, I can barely keep track.”
I found her delivery to be an airy affectation, as if everything was a chore or to be tolerated. She walked me to an adjacent bedroom.
“You may use this room to relax and freshen up. We will have cocktails at 6:00.” She left, closing the door, like a parent would do after saying goodnight to a child.
I wanted to take advantage of the fifty minutes I had, taking off my shoes and plopping down on the quilt-covered, queen-sized bed. The oversized pillows forced me into too much of an upright position, so I removed them. I missed being at home and called Anna.
She was staying an extra two hours while I was away. I caught her in the process of giving Tyler a bath. He had finished his dinner, which meant to me that he’d smeared a lot over his face and in his hair. Anna assured me “things go good.” I thanked her and called Jerry.
“How’s it going?” He had caller ID on his private office phone line.
“I’m sprawled out in the lap of luxury, my dear, in the McAllister’s mansion.”
“Don’t get too used to it.”
“The reality is that you and I are much better off.”
He laughed. “What’s happening?”
“Well,” I said, retrieving one of the pillows to prop up on, “I was treated to a lovely lunch by Mr. and Mrs. McAllister at their country club, and then the former governor took me on a chauffeur-driven tour of where Roanne McAllister Dalton grew up. I’ll tell you about that when I see you.”
“You’re staying there? I thought—”
“I’m checked into a hotel. I’ll go there after supper. The chauffeur checked me in during lunch. We have a photo shoot here tomorrow, so Rufus is going to walk me around the grounds later, see what appeals to me.”
“Rufus?”
“The governor insists on that. He’s a down-home aristocrat.”
“Quite a combination.”
“I checked in with Anna. Tyler’s bathing.”
“I’ll get there by 6:00. Ralph told me they enjoyed the visit Saturday and that he would be looking into some things for you. He thinks those senators have overstepped their bounds and may have left a wake behind them.”
“I appreciate in advance everything he can do. Give our little boy a hug from me.”
“I’ll give him a couple. Enjoy yourself.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
I slid the pillow away and stretched out. My mind wandered all over with no one thing capturing my thoughts. I set my travel alarm to go off at 5:50 and took a nap.
When I walked onto the terrace that overlooked an extensive pasture, I found the McAllisters and another couple sitting at an umbrella-shaded patio table. Two horses were grazing at a nearby pasture fence adjacent to the barn.
“Ah, Laura,” Rufus said, standing. “Please.” He gestured to the chair he was holding out for me. “Frank, Jane, this is Laura Wolfe, a friend of Ro’s.”
I had wondered how he was going to handle who I was. We greeted all around, and I sat. The conversation was general, but when the sister asked me a personal question, Rufus jumped in with an answer and quickly diverted the conversation to another subject. Following dinner, he excused the two of us, saying he wanted to show me the horses. We walked out through the kitchen and into the side yard, out of view from everyone else.
“I apologize for my sister, she’s a bit of a snoop,” he said earnestly.
“I thought you handled it like an expert fencer parrying an opponent’s thrust.” I used the metaphor to infer he had done a courteous thing.
“You’re too kind,” he said, bowing his head.
We both laughed.
“Come on,” he said, taking my arm. “You have family?”
We began walking. “I bet you already know the answer to that.”
“Me . . . why?” Then he grinned. “Yeah, I do. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“That’s fair. Did I pass muster?” I liked this man. I wasn’t fooled into feeling he was a touchy-feely kind of a guy. I was sure he’d laid some leather on some skin. Right now, he was showing me his warm side. I hoped he and Jerry would have the chance to meet one day.
“I have a wonderful husband and a beautiful eight-month-old son, whom I am missing. This is the first night I have not been there to kiss him goodnight.”
“Keep those feelings,” he said ruefully. “Nothing’s worth losing that.”
“I have no intentions of letting anything change that, I assure you.”
He looked me in the eye. “I believe you. Come on, you can see where you want to set us up for tomorrow.”
I held back, and he stopped. “What?” he asked concerned.
“A question, Governor. You’ve been around the horn and taken the measure of a lot of people.” I had his attention. “Do you think Tom Kelly could forsake principle and a career for money?”
My question caught him off guard, which is why I chose this moment in time to ask it.
“I have no first-hand knowledge of the man,” he said cautiously.
“You don’t need it.” I knew his answer was a stall. He’d gotten my meaning.
“Yes, and that’s what scares the bejesus out of me, for Ro. If he’s that cold and calculating, then he’s capable of going to any means to meet his end. Men like that—and believe me I was no saint, but I drew the line— they have no compunctions about doing what’s needed to get their way.”
Our walk took us to the pasture fence. It was three rows of long wooden rails painted white. I took a deep breath, as if enjoying the fresh air, and then took the plunge. “I don’t know if you know who Harley Rogers is. He—”
“He the one who created the drug that’s got Kelly and the pharmas in a hissy-fit?”
I suppressed a laugh. “He is. Michael Horne and I visited him in New Jersey recently. He’s a fit old man, in his mid-eighties. His son Sherman runs the place, handles the day-to-day.”
I paused looking out over the pasture and the two horses still grazing near the barn. Rufus leaned on the fence looking in the same direction, but more toward the horizon where the sun would soon set. I placed a hand on the rail and continued, “I found Harley to be a complex person. He suffered a huge defeat with his miracle drug that could bankrupt him, yet he neither acted down nor showed he was particularly worried.”
I waited for him to reply. He held his pose looking off in the distance. I didn’t think his mind was on the scenery. He let his foot slide off the rail and looked me straight in the eye. “Men take defeat in a variety of ways. Some act nonchalant, which maybe keeps them from committing suicide. Some suck it up, come up off the canvas, and struggle to get to the bell. Some plan for the eventuality of defeat and take measures to shore things up and keep everything from caving in. Some plan ways of circumventing bad news with something already on the back burner that could turn defeat into victory.”
He returned to leaning on the fence, looking out over the pasture.
Somewhere on Rufus’s menu was Harley. I felt he was scratching, unsure of how much I knew. On the other hand, he could be telling me without telling me and wants to see if I could pick it out. I liked his metaphors, but decided not to take the bait.
Harley’s movements of people and equipment could have the trappings of a military maneuver. Rufus had corroborated for me that Harley had a plan, or that he had already implemented one.
And that would be up to me to uncover.