Mirror Image

Jack tossed his folded newspaper aside. “Make another appointment with this doctor.”

“What about it, Carole?” Tate asked.

“You know how hard this one was to come by. I probably wouldn’t be able to get another one for weeks. Even if I could, I don’t believe it would be in Mandy’s best interest to postpone.”

Tate watched his brother, father, and campaign manager exchange telling glances. They wanted him to make a speech to this influential crowd of Rotarians, and they were right. These conservatives, staunch Dekker supporters, needed to be convinced that he was a viable candidate and not a hotheaded upstart. When he looked down at his wife, however, he could feel the strength behind her calm gaze. He would be damned either way he went. “Christ.”

“I could go to the psychologist’s office with Carole,” Zee offered. “Tate, you make your speech. We can fill you in later on what the doctor has to say about Mandy.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mom, but she’s my daughter.”

“And this could mean the election,” Eddy argued, raising his voice.

Jack stood and hiked up the waistband of his pants, as though he was about to engage in a fistfight. “I agree with Eddy one hundred percent.”

“One speech isn’t going to cost the election. Dad?”

“I think your mother had the most workable solution. You know I don’t put much stock in shrinks, so I wouldn’t mind a bit going to hear what this one has to say about my granddaughter.”

“Carole?”

She had let the dispute revolve around her without contributing anything to it, which was uncharacteristic. As long as Tate had known her, she had never failed to express her opinion.

“They’re both terribly important, Tate,” she said. “It has to be your decision.”

Eddy swore beneath his breath and shot her a glance of supreme annoyance. He would rather her rant and rave and fight to get her way. Tate felt the same. It had been much easier to say no to Carole when she was being obstreperous and inflexible. Lately, she used her dark, eloquent eyes to express herself more than she used a strident voice.

Whatever his choice, it would be met with disapproval. The deciding factor was Mandy herself. He looked down into her solemn little face. Even though she couldn’t have understood what the controversy was about, she seemed to be apologizing to him for causing such a fuss.

“Call them back, Eddy, and graciously decline.” Carole’s posture relaxed, as though she’d been holding herself in breathless anticipation of his answer. “Tell them Mrs. Rutledge and I have a previous engagement.”

“But—”

Tate held up his hand to ward off a barrage of protests. He gave his friend a hard, decisive stare. “My first obligation is to my family. I was guaranteed your understanding, remember?”

Eddy gave him a hard, exasperated stare, then stormed out. Tate couldn’t blame him for being pissed. He didn’t have a child. He was responsible to no one but himself. How could he possibly understand divided loyalties?

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Tate.” Nelson stood and reached for Zee’s hand. “Let’s go try to calm down our frustrated campaign manager.” They left together.

Jack was just as agitated as Eddy. He glared at Carole. “Satisfied?”

“Enough, Jack,” Tate said testily.

His brother aimed an accusing finger at her. “She’s manipulating you with this good-mother routine.”

“What goes on between Carole and me is none of your damned business.”

“Ordinarily, no. But since you’re running for public office, your private life is everybody’s business. Whatever affects the campaign is my business. I’ve devoted years to getting you elected.”

“And I appreciate everything you’ve done. But today I’m taking an hour off for my daughter’s sake. I don’t think that’s asking too much, and even if it is, don’t give me an argument about it.”

After casting another hostile glance at Carole, Jack left the suite, slamming the door behind him.

She came to her feet. “Is that what you think, Tate? That this is just a good-mother routine?”

The hell of it was that he didn’t know what to think. Since his first sexual conquest at age fifteen, Tate had exercised control over all his relationship with women. Women liked him. He liked them in return. He also respected them. Unlike most men to whom romantic encounters came easily, his friends among the female sex numbered as many as his lovers, although many in the first category secretly lamented that they’d never joined the ranks of the second.

His most serious involvement had been with a San Antonio divorcée. She sold commercial real estate, very successfully. Tate had lauded her success, but didn’t love her enough to compete with it for her time and attention. She had also made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want children. After a two-year courtship, they had parted as friends.