Page 67 of Solo

And then there’s Katherine, in the adjacent picture, looking positively angelic as she plays the piano on what I recognize to be the stage at the concert hall of the New York Conservatory of Music in New York City. This must be the picture that got her into so much hot water with her father. The image has captured her with eyes closed and head back, totally immersed in whatever she was playing at the time.

The headline screams Senator’s Daughter to Daddy: Tuck off!

A ripple of giggles makes its way through the audience. Still, Tucker Brenner sits there, calm and cool, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Was there a question somewhere in there, John?” he asks the moderator.

“Yes, Senator. What is your relationship with your daughter now, and how has her decision to pursue a career in music impacted your credibility in the senate?”

“Well, first of all, let me say that my relationship with my daughter is no one’s business but our own. We are a very private family. I respect Katherine’s choices just as she respects mine. You’ll find no disparaging comments from her in any publication. Ever. As for my credibility in the senate—well, there are those who questioned my dedication to this cause in light of these circumstances, but I have demonstrated, again and again, why my bill will have a positive impact.”

“But, Senator, surely this must be a sore point between the two of you—”

“Not at all,” Brenner cuts him off. “You must keep in mind that Katherine grew up in a very comfortable lifestyle. She isn’t really impacted by the constraints I’m discussing…”

Wait, wait, wait. Did this guy just imply that he supports Katherine? I snort and get a nasty look from the poetry professor to my right.

“Senator, why isn’t your daughter here tonight?”

“As I mentioned, we are a very private family. And I respect my daughter’s wishes to stay out of the spotlight.”

“Yes, but—”

“John, I believe that’s the last comment I’ll make on this particular subject. Now, if you’d like to discuss the bill…”

I’ve heard enough. I’ve seen enough. I stand up and shoehorn my way past the long line of legs in my row and to the main aisle so I can slip out a back entrance. Outside, the frigid air is a relief from the oppressiveness inside the theater. I look up at the cloudless sky, nothing but a vast black expanse cluttered with twinkling stars and the moon. It makes me think of Casey and how she used to lie on her back on the lawn, looking for shooting stars to wish upon.

I’m glad I don’t see one right now, because I have no idea which wish I’d make. The life behind me, or the life ahead of me?

With a sigh, I walk back to the parking lot, careful to keep my eyes on the ground so I don’t have to decide.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Kate

When the black Town Car shows up, I’ve already been sitting in the restaurant parking lot for forty-five minutes. It’s not that I don’t trust my father to keep his word about this being a private get-together, I don’t trust Leandra, “The Ice Queen,” not to leak it to a reporter or two. Or ten. So far, though, no sign of anyone suspicious lurking around outside the Italian restaurant. I give my father a ten-minute head start before I get out of my car, taking one last look around for any rogue reporters.

When I get inside, I approach the hostess, a way-too-put-together model type who reminds me of Tessa Morgan. I’m suddenly regretting my decision to wear a simple skirt and tights.

“Good evening, I’m Katherine Brenner…”

“Of course. Welcome, Miss Brenner, we’ve been expecting you.” She smiles. “The senator is already waiting for you. I’m Patricia, please, come with me.”

I follow her through the restaurant, head down, eyes casting left and right. But all looks quiet in here, too, as she leads me to a set of french doors in the back, lined with scarlet drapes for privacy.

“May I get you something from the bar, Ms. Brenner?” she asks, holding the door open for me.

“Yes, a glass of riesling, please,” I say, mentally thanking Drew for introducing me to an adult beverage. It’s hard to be taken seriously when you’re sucking down a Shirley Temple.

Patty Perfect nods, smiles, and closes the doors behind me. My father pulls the napkin from his lap, gets to his feet, and walks toward me with outstretched arms. I stand perfectly still and allow him to embrace me while I pat his arm, gently. When he lets go, he pushes me back slightly to get a good look at me. I take the opportunity to do the same.

He hasn’t aged a day. Maybe there are a few more threads of silver visible in his thick, jet-black hair, but, for the most part, my father looks the same way he’s looked my entire life. Tall, lean, and dark, he was always the perfect complement to my mother’s petite, fair beauty. Tonight he’s looking especially dapper in what must be a four-figure custom-cut navy suit. Only the finest for Tucker Brenner, senator from Virginia.

“Katherine,” he says in a soft, choked voice, “I can’t believe how much you look like your mother.”

Hearing this makes me smile. It’s a rare real moment for us. Maybe I’ve been worried about nothing. Maybe this dinner won’t be so bad after all.

“I’ve always thought I looked more like you,” I offer, a little shyly.