A Different Light (50 page)

Not this time,
Athen told him wordlessly as she lifted her chin defiantly, her eyes narrowing as she met his. They stared at each other openly, he silently issuing a challenge, she accepting it.

“I can’t let him win, Quentin,” Athen said after they left the hospital.

“No, you can’t.”

“And there isn’t anyone else who could step in this late in the race—at least I can’t think of anyone.”

“There isn’t anyone but you,” he readily agreed. “But you do understand that Dan will come after you with everything he has, that it will be as ugly as it can get between now and the May primary?”

“I know.”

“I almost wish I could cover this one,” he told her.

“But you can’t.”

“No, but after that scene in the hospital, when I saw that Dan could not make you blink, I knew what you had to do. And I figured there might be a different job for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you’re going to need a good press secretary. Whatever I have is at your disposal—time, energy, money. Whatever you need to beat this bastard.”

“I might not win, Quentin,” she reminded him.

“Win or lose, we’re in this together.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re a team, you and I. For better or for worse, right?”

“Right.” She nodded.

Her life had come full circle as, one by one, she found the bits and pieces of herself that had been scattered when John died. Somehow, she’d found the strength to put those pieces back together again. In Quentin, she found all the love and joy she could ever hope for. She regained her self-confidence and found self-respect when she defied Dan.

There was great comfort in knowing that there was nothing Rossi could take from her now except her job.

“Now get on the phone and get Diana over here,” Quentin was saying. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Diana was an excellent choice for campaign manager. She had been with Ari through all his campaigns, and knew all the old stalwarts and all the new blood. Night after night, they worked into the wee hours, planning their strategy and making up lists of the ward leaders and committee people they would be calling on. Athen would announce her decision to run the following Wednesday, and they had many weeks’ worth of work to accomplish in a very few days.

True to his word, Quentin worked around the clock on the literature and posters they’d plaster all over the city. Posters bearing the replica of the new medical center, the shelter, and the community center asked the residents to “Keep the dream alive.”

Full-page ads in the local papers carried Athen’s promise that the vision of a new Woodside Heights offered by Evelyn Wallace was still within reach, that her work would be carried on as a testament to her commitment. Ms. Evelyn had promised her help as soon as she was able. She’d drafted letters to the editors of all the local papers, asking the residents who’d supported her to offer that support to Athen.

Dan swiftly retaliated, dismissing Athen as no more than an opportunist who “quickly moved in to declare her
candidacy before Ms. Evelyn had settled into her hospital bed, one who’d fight to hold on to her office even if it meant taking advantage of the misfortune that had befallen a woman she’d called friend.”

“Think,” he crooned to the TV cameras, “what a hotel, a convention center would mean to the city, of the revenue it would bring in. Think how the city could grow and prosper once the center of town had been cleared of the blighted neighborhoods.”

At his rallies, he’d address wildly supporting crowds.

“Put Dan Rossi back in office, and Dan Rossi will put Woodside Heights back to work!”

“Dan Rossi means he’ll put Woodside Heights back to work for him,” Athen had responded. “Ask him where he was when all those jobs were leaving Woodside Heights.”

“Ask Athen Moran what she’s done for this city in the past two years,” Rossi taunted.

“Ask Rossi what he accomplished in the previous eight,” she replied calmly, then added, “I think getting a commitment from the Bradford Foundation to fund not only a badly needed medical center but a true community center and the shelter envisioned by Evelyn Wallace is a pretty big accomplishment. Not only jobs for the city, but doctors. A trauma center. Neonatal and pediatric specialists …”

“She’s a novice,” Rossi sputtered upon hearing Athen’s remark. “An amateur. The hardworking taxpayers of Woodside Heights want to see this city soar, want to see this city become a mecca here in the northernmost part of the state.”

“If that’s what the citizens of this city truly want, that’s what they’ll vote for on Election Day,” Athen
told the reporter from the
Herald
. “They will choose. All this harping from Mr. Rossi is a smoke screen. For eight years he sat back in his chair and smoked his big cigars and watched this city fall apart. For the first time, someone is offering Woodside Heights a choice, and the choice is greater than him or me. It’s an opportunity to decide the direction in which this city will grow. Until the first Tuesday in May, no one will know for certain what that choice will be. We’ll all just have to wait, and we’ll find out together.”

“MORE WINE, MAYOR MORAN?” THE
waiter offered solicitously.

“No thank you.” She shook her head. “Quentin, don’t you think this is odd? The entire room is deserted.”

Athen surveyed their surroundings, clearly puzzled. They were, as she observed, the only diners in the small, elegantly appointed side room of Étienne’s, the lavish restaurant that just months ago had opened in a lovely old mansion on a hill that overlooked the city. “Where do you suppose everyone is?”

“Probably at the polls doing their civic duty.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, this is a Tuesday night, and the night of the hottest election this city has ever seen. I’m sure people will begin to filter in later.”

“Maybe we ought to get back.” She shifted nervously in her seat. “Maybe we ought to check the returns.”

“Sweetheart, the polls don’t close for another hour.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “Just sit back and relax a little. We’ve plenty of time.”

“I didn’t expect to be this nervous,” she confided. “I never thought a day could be as long as this one has been.”

“Well, it’s almost over and we’ll know soon enough,” he reminded her. “I think I’d like some coffee. How about
you?” He signaled for the waiter.

“Quentin, I have had about ten cups past my limit.” She sighed. “I’m positively wired.”

“Two decafs,” Quentin told the waiter.

“Quentin, I feel like I should be back at headquarters, waiting with everyone else.”

“Nonsense.” He moved his chair closer to hers and massaged one of her tired shoulders with his right hand. “It’s going to be a long evening, and after the past few months, I think you’ve earned the right to relax and have a peaceful hour or two.”

He leaned back as the waiter placed their cups on the table, then moved Athen’s cup slightly to the side and placed a large goblet filled with raspberries and whipped cream before her.

She frowned. “I didn’t order dessert.”

“Étienne made it special for you, madame.” The waiter beamed.

Athen managed a smile. After the waiter left the room, she told Quentin, “If I eat another bite, I’ll be sick.”

She passed the goblet to him. He passed it back.

“Of course you won’t be sick.” He smiled. “Eat your dessert. Raspberries are good for you. Superfoods, and all that. I read about it in a health magazine.”

“Quentin, I don’t want …” She protested as he lifted the spoon to her mouth. “Oh, honestly, Quentin …”

“Athen, you don’t want to offend Étienne,” He leaned forward. “He’s the best chef in town.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll eat some of it.” She shrugged. “But you have to finish it.”

“Sure.”

He watched closely as she dipped her spoon into the frothy cloud of whipped cream, playing with it, unconsciously raising small peaks here and there.

“You know, it’s funny.” She put the spoon down on the plate beneath the goblet. “The last election was just an exercise. I hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on, nor did I really much care, and I won so easily. Of course, that time I was unopposed and had Rossi’s backing. This time, when it means something, when there’s really something at stake, it’s so difficult. I want so badly to win, Quentin. Not just to beat Dan, but for Ms. Evelyn.”

“She’s very proud of you, just as I am,” he said. “Everyone who loves you is proud of you. Not just for taking on Dan, but for the way you’ve conducted yourself all through this. And Dan should thank you for not throwing Mary Jo Dolan in his face.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“Weren’t you even tempted, just a tiny bit?” he teased.

“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But that would make me just as bad as he is.”

“You are an amazing woman.” He leaned over and kissed her ear. “Now, finish that little confection and let’s get going.”

“Quentin, I feel like a whale,” she moaned.

“Well, you haven’t been eating regularly these past few weeks. At least polish off the whipped cream.” He held out the spoon.

“I can see you won’t be satisfied until I explode.” She grimaced, taking the spoon. “Maybe if I just move it around a bit it will look as if I’ve eaten more than …”

She stopped in midsentence, her attention on the bowl of the spoon, her mouth half opened in surprise.

“May I clean that up a bit for you?” he asked softly.

Her eyes filled with tears as they moved from the spoon to his face.

She passed the spoon to him and he dipped it into his water glass, then retrieved the sparkling ring from the bottom of the glass and dried the diamond with his napkin.

“I guess having gone this far, I should go the whole nine yards.” He smiled and pushed back his chair.

Her eyes never left his face, even when he dropped before her on one knee.

“Athena Stavros Moran, will you marry me?”

Still stunned and speechless, Athen sat wide-eyed, barely blinking.

He cleared his throat.

“Athen, this is no time to go mute,” he told her in a mock stage whisper. “This is supposed to be a big moment.”

She nodded her head slowly.

“Was that an affirmative yes, you know it’s a big moment, or yes, you will marry me?’ His rested an elbow on his raised knee, his eyes twinkling.

“Both.” Her voice came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat and repeated, “Both.”

He took her hands in his and slipped the ring on her finger. She hardly seemed to notice.

“Don’t you want to see it? It’s almost three karats, Athen—at least look at the damned thing,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s gorgeous.” She leaned over to hold his face in her hands, and he kissed the trail of tears that streaked down her face. “Are you sure you want to do this? If I get elected, things could be pretty hectic.”

“Nothing could be more hectic than the last few
weeks have been, and yes, I’m sure I want to marry you. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you more than I thought it could be possible to love anyone. Your future is my future. Whatever happens tonight, we’ll celebrate together or we’ll lick our wounds together. Whatever the future brings, we’ll deal with it together.”

She leaned over and kissed him again, the election forgotten for a few long moments. Finally, she tugged at his lapels.

“You can get up now.” She laughed when she realized he was still kneeling on the carpeted floor.

“So, do you have any thoughts on when you might like to tie the knot?” He moved his chair close to hers and draped an arm around her shoulders.

“I always wanted to be a June bride,” she said wistfully.

“June it is.”

“That’s barely a month away.” Her eyes widened at the thought.

“Then I suggest we enlist my mother,” he said. “She’s a whiz at putting together big parties.”

“What do you think the kids will say?” she wondered aloud.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” Quentin signaled for the waiter to bring their check. “By the way, you’re thirty-seven votes behind with three more precincts to be counted.”

“How do you now that?” Her jaw dropped.

“Diana’s been texting me all night, and I’ve been checking every time you turned your head.”

QUENTIN PULLED INTO THE DRIVE
at the carriage house on the Chapman estate that had been converted into Athen’s
campaign headquarters and turned off the car lights. They sat in the dark for a few moments, savoring the last few minutes of calm they’d have for the next few days. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, and she rested her back against his shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Quentin, I just want you to know that, whatever the final outcome is, I will never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done. I don’t mean just the material you wrote or the money you raised. You always made me feel that this was as important to you as it was to me. That you believed in me.”

“I do.” He kissed the side of her face. “Now and always. Win or lose.”

“Let’s go see which it is.” She took a deep breath and unfastened her seat belt, then opened her door.

They could hear the shouts before they reached the door. Mayhem greeted them as they walked into the carriage house and her jubilant supporters welcomed her wildly. The tally from the final precincts had just been announced.

Athena Moran had defeated Dan Rossi by one thousand fifty-three votes.

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