Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice (48 page)

   "She could have been a poster child for the Republican ideals of my childhood. She grew up in a poor, uneducated family and decided she wanted something better. She worked hard and made sacrifices. By the time I met her, she was a successful professional. I started thinking again. Behind all the corruption, maybe there was something to the Republican carrot-and-stick idea. But there was a problem with my theory. She wasn't a Republican. She was a damn Democrat, and it didn't take me long to find out why.

   "There are other people like her where she came from, ambitious people who are willing to work hard, but they didn't have what she had, a scholarship. They aren't professionals now. They're working dead-end jobs if they can find them, or they're in prison or selling drugs or on the streets. Smart, hard-working people, who could have had a chance if someone had offered them a helping hand." He held out his hand to the audience and then abruptly clenched it into a fist.

   "So I have some ambitious ideas here. A safety net so nobody goes hungry or lacks for medical care. Programs so people with the drive and ability can get ahead. Most armchair politicians would stop there and declare it their position. But I was raised on the Republican catechism according to Joe Westing." His voice lowered into a passable imitation of his father's southern accent. "Those damn Democrats are full of ideas, but they don't know how to pay for them. They're fiscally irresponsible. They'll drive this country to ruin." He dropped the accent. "So when I thought about my wish list of programs, I had to think about where the money would come from, because I'm not a damn Democrat. Everybody knows that." There were chuckles from around the room.

   Cassie didn't know whether to hide under the table from embarrassment or to be infuriated at being called a Republican poster child. But Calder's intent was obvious. He was deliberately fanning the flames. This wasn't a speech about why he was a Democrat. It was designed in every particular to infuriate Joe Westing.

   "Now, some people like to think about how they'd coach the Red Sox if they had a chance. I'm Joe Westing's son, so I make up government budgets in my head for fun. My father used to give me figures from the Senate Budget Committee to practice my math on. Now I had another math problem to solve. What programs was I going to cut to find the billions of dollars I'd need to fund my projects?

   "Repairing the infrastructure and building the information highway? No, can't cut there, not if we want to move forward. Protection of the environment? Can't cut there, either, or there'll be no future to move forward to. Business incentives, so our economy can grow? Well, I'd better not answer that one here. I was raised Republican and I'm not letting go of everything." More laughter. "So I had to look harder. How about pork barrel projects? Cut." He slapped his hand on the podium to emphasize his point. "Tax breaks for people like me, who already have more money than they know what to do with? Cut. Wars nobody wants that will never accomplish anything? Cut." The applause was loud and sustained.

   Calder managed a look of embarrassed pride. "There were only two problems with my budget. One was that it was hypothetical. The other is that I'm Joe Westing's son, and this was the budget of a damn Democrat." His voice rose on the last words to demonstrate his shock and dismay and was greeted by laughter.

   He placed both hands on the podium and leaned forward, making eye contact around the room. "You know where I come from. Son of Senator Joseph Westing, Republican of Virginia. Grandson of Governor Stephen Calder Westing, Republican of Virginia. Nephew of VicePresident Matthew Westing, Republican of Virginia. Brother of Congressman Tom Westing, Republican of Virginia. And you should know who I am, because I've told you often enough tonight that I'm Joe Westing's son." He paused dramatically. "But you can call me Calder Westing, Democrat of Massachusetts." Applause. "I'll see you at the polls—and the victory party."

   Calder left the podium to loud applause, waving his hand to the audience as if he did this every day. Cassie watched in utter bewilderment as he appeared to bask in the public eye.

   Calder slid into the seat beside her and whispered in her ear, "I feel sick." Then he took a deep breath and turned to the couple beside them, accepting their congratulations on his speech with a gracious smile.

   So this was what his mother had taught him. She had done it well. Cassie would never have seen through Calder's veneer. It didn't break for a second as wellwishers stopped by the table to shake his hand.

   A reporter from the
Boston Globe
was one of the first. "That was quite a speech, Mr. Westing. Are you considering entering into the political arena yourself?"

"I'm a writer, not a politician."

"Writers can become politicians, can't they?"

   Calder rested his elbow on the table, looking completely comfortable. "Well, let's just say I have no
immediate
plans to run for office."

   The reporter's eyes brightened with the prospect of a scoop. "But you wouldn't rule it out for the future?"

   "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

   The reporter scribbled something down. "So that isn't a denial, Mr. Westing?"

   Cassie couldn't believe it. Calder hinting at running for office as a Democrat? Joe was going to go berserk. Ecuador might not be far enough away. Maybe Mars. She hoped Calder knew what he was doing. He certainly looked as if he did.

   The congressman who made the first speech drew up a chair next to Calder. "Does your father know about this speech?"

   Calder laughed. "No. Would you like to tell him? Be my guest."

   "No, thanks. I want to make sure I'm several states away when he finds out."

   Calder clapped him on the shoulder. "Good plan. The Westing family Thanksgiving dinner is going to be exciting this year. I expect I'll be carved up in place of the turkey."

   "You sound like him, you know. You have his ability to hold an audience, more than your brother does."

   "Thank you. That's quite a compliment. I may disagree with my father, but I admire his skill as a politician."

   The representative eyed him. "We should talk more another time."

   "I'd be delighted." Calder handed him a business card. "This is my private number."

   Cassie didn't recognize the smooth operator inhabiting her husband's body, but she wanted the old Calder back. He was going to have some explaining to do later.

Cassie gave him a sidelong glance as she guided the car out of the hotel parking lot. "You're good at that." It sounded more accusing than she meant it to.

   Calder leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "Of course I'm good at it. I spent the first twenty years of my life learning how to do it."

   It was a relief to hear him sounding like himself again. "It's not a side of you I've seen before."

   "But it's still there, whether I like it or not. And that's the important thing."

   "What's your father going to do when he hears about it?"

   "He's going to have a fit to end all fits. Then, when he tells me never to do it again, I'll agree, as long as he leaves Ryan alone. If he doesn't, I'll fight him at his own game. I'll be at every Democratic event I can find. I'll stick so close to the next Democratic presidential nominee, he'll think I've used superglue. That speech will be refined by the best speechwriters in the country, and he knows I can deliver a killer speech. He taught me how. He won't risk it."

   Cassie found herself near tears, and she had to force herself to concentrate on the road. "But you'd hate that."

   "Compared to losing you, it would be easy. Don't you know that?"

   She didn't answer. How could she admit she'd never have dreamed he would do something like that for her? It made her feel warm inside, warmer than she'd been for a long time.

Cassie expected the answering machine to be in flames when they arrived home, but it was ominously empty. Other friends called on the weekend, and Calder's answering service was full of requests for interviews, but only silence from Virginia. "Maybe he hasn't heard yet," she said.

Calder shook his head. "He knows."

CASSIE WISHED SHE DIDN'T have to go to work on Monday. She remembered how Joe had appeared at her apartment in Haverford, and she was afraid he might try the same trick with Calder while she was at the lab. Of course, the Cape was farther from Washington than Haverford was, so perhaps that would keep him away. But the worry stayed with her. Sooner or later the explosion was bound to come.

   At least work was a distraction. She was examining microscopic specimens when she heard a voice that was too familiar greeting her.

   She should have remembered he would do the unexpected. "Joe, what a
pleasant
surprise. I hadn't realized you were in town."

   Joe's presence dominated the lab. "I'm full of surprises. Just like Calder."

   "Yes, he's been surprising me lately, too." She switched off the microscope lamp and stood. At least the lab door was still open. If Joe really went after her, Chris would go for help. She hoped.

   "When I said you'd make something of him, this wasn't what I had in mind." He paced around the lab, inspecting her desk.

   Cassie realized Chris was trying to make his sixfoot form disappear in the corner. This wasn't the place for one of her fights with Joe. That was probably why he chose to come here. He knew she'd have to play by the rules, and he wouldn't. She made an effort to remove the barbs from her voice. "Can I show you around the lab, Joe? Or is there something else I can do for you?"

   He picked up a gel frame and examined it. "You can tell me what Calder's planning."

   Her palms were damp. "That depends on you. I imagine he'd be perfectly happy to stay home and write."

   "Or is his ambition finally showing itself? Is this just an excuse to throw his hat into the ring?" He peered into the microscope.

   "To go into politics? I'd be surprised." Cassie reached over to switch the lamp on for him and lowered the magnification. "If you're interested, those are microscopic organisms from salt marsh peat. High anaerobe content—bacteria that can survive without the presence of oxygen."

   Joe adjusted the focus. So he knew his way around a microscope, creationist or not. Or maybe the creationism was just a public stance. "It's an intriguing strategy. He could go farther as a Democrat running against the family heritage than he could as a Republican."

   Cassie couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. "I don't think that crossed his mind."

   Joe looked up from the microscope, his hands resting on the edge of the lab bench. "You don't know him as well as you think, then. I guarantee he's thought of it."

   She couldn't understand his reaction. Joe had never hesitated to show his anger in the past, but he seemed untroubled by Calder's foray into Democratic politics. Was it an act? An attempt to lure her into giving him information?

   Suddenly it hit her. They had completely misgauged his response. Joe was
pleased.
Apparently the positions he espoused with such passion meant less to him than the idea of another Westing in politics. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

   She had to say something. "Perhaps you're right. He hasn't filled me in on his plans."

   Joe wandered to the bench where Chris was working on Petri dishes. "What's this?" he asked.

   Cassie squeezed past him to stand protectively by her assistant. "That's Chris's research project. He's looking into bacterial contamination in shellfish beds."