Daddy shrugs. “I believe in Owen.”
“I mean, it’s easy for you to get away with that for a county commission race, especially for your old seat, don’t get me wrong. People are writing that off as you doing a favor for your daughter’s friend. Besides, no one likes the GOP candidate. Carlisle was turfed out in the primary, but Buchanan is fucking dirty, and everyone knows it. I know damn well the local GOP won’t take his loss very personally or hold it against you too much. No one wanted him to run in the first place. Won’t take much to make him look like a lost cause. But you do that for aSenaterace? It’s political suicide.”
Daddy shrugs again.
She lets out a low whistle. “Benchley, with all due respect, if you do that, you’re going to have a screaming pack of rabid demons—and rabid PACs—coming after you when you run for governor. Youdorealize that, right?”
He nods. “I’m not concerned. I have the support for that, too, where it’ll really count.”
She snorts. “How many ratfucks isthatgoing to cost you?”
Daddy simply smiles.
“Here’s the plan,” I say. As is usual in these situations, Carter lets me take the lead, going over polling numbers, districts, trends—all the minutiae and data that Owen and I thrive on consuming. Carter is more a big-picture kind of guy. Give him the results once we crunch numbers so he can go from there. Our tactician, the mobile response, seeing the overall trends.
He’s the one who doesn’t panic or rejoice over a jog in poll numbers a point or two in either direction.
I include the long-term plan of getting me elected for a state office, too, then running for governor following Owen’s incumbency. Once I finish my part of the presentation and hand it off to Carter, he settles in chatting with Rebecca while I sit back to listen. Owen is intently absorbing everything, asking smart questions. From the way Daddy nods on occasion, I can tell he understands why I want to back Owen as a candidate.
Once we go through all that, she sits back and needs a moment to digest everything. Then she looks at Daddy. “Maybe this isn’t as crazy a plan as I first thought,” she admits as she slowly nods. “Father-daughter governors. There’s a nice bit of symmetry in that.” She sighs. “If I didn’t think it’d get me drummed out of the GOP, I’d offer to come on board for Owen’s state Senate run. But I already have two different GOP hopefuls with their sights on it. Different districts, but still.”
Carter grins. “You could still come work for us.”
“Yeah, but I’d never get hired by another GOP candidate, and the Dems don’t pay worth shit in this state.” She smiles. “But before I sign an employment contract, maybe I can look over some info for you and give you a few pointers. Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course,” Carter agrees. “For now, tell us how to best guarantee Owen a general election win inthisrace.”
We spend the next two hours discussing tactics she is certain will give Owen a leg up. She also shares deep background info she has on Buchanan, and on Fleming, the Democratic candidate. Combined with Daddy’s endorsement, Owen should be a shoo-in.
The afternoon, as far as I’m concerned, is a success.
We finally break for dinner—pizza that we’ve ordered, since neither Daddy, Rebecca, nor Carter want all of us spotted out and about in public together—plus her father, her husband, and the kids join us.
I know that Rebecca’s husband isn’t Eddie’s biological father, but I’ve never really heard the story about all of that, either. It was something Daddy and Momma never openly talked about around me. Obviously, I’m not so tactless that I’d ask that here, but in the car on the way back to Daddy’s, I broach the subject.
“Whatever happened to Eddie’s biological father?” I ask. I have a suspicion who the boy’s father might be, but have never heard that spoken aloud.
I think it’s my imagination that Daddy and Carter share a glance. It’s probably more Carter being Carter, and him watching my father to see his reaction. Carter loves to pick up stray nuggets of information here and there, especially anything he thinks he might be able to put to good use later.
“What do you mean?” Daddy asks.
“I mean, was he her boyfriend in high school or something?” I fudge. “I know John’s definitelynotthat boy’s father. He was born before they got together. Besides, he looks nothing like John.”
“I don’t know, SusieJo,” Daddy says, even though he knows how much I hate that nickname as an adult. “Never thought it was my place to ask. She ended up living in Orlando, for a while, when she had him.”
My bullshit meter goes off but I know better than to pry. Daddy’s dancing around the issue. No way in hell will he tell me now. Besides, I’m deep enough in his debt as it is for him arranging this meeting for us today.
I do the smart thing and let it drop.
Although I am a little surprised Momma doesn’t chime in. A conversation like this, usually she’d be shushing one or both of us, telling us it was impolite. Right now, she’s staring out the window with a tense set to her neck. I only see this because I look around Owen when I realize she’s not saying anything.
“Are you all right, Momma?”
“I’m fine,” she lies. “Just a little headache.”
I’m desperate to smooth this over. I know she still hates Carter for how we got married, and spending several hours with him today has probably been about as much as she can handle.
“Thank you both for doing this today,” I say. “I love both of you so much. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t believe in Owen as a qualified candidate.”
