Mirror Image

“What do they look like?”

They were due to leave for a fund-raising barbecue dinner being hosted by a wealthy rancher outside the city. Tate had been dressed and waiting for half an hour. She was running late.

“Big silver loops.” Tate gave the room a cursory once-over. “You won’t find them lying on the surface,” she had told him with exasperation. “I haven’t worn them yet. I brought them specifically for this outfit.”

“Can’t you substitute something else?”

“I guess I’ll have to.” She made a selection from the pile of jewelry she’d spilled onto the dresser. By then she was so flustered, she had had difficulty fitting the post into the back. Three attempts proved to be misses. “Shit!”

“Carole, for heaven’s sake, calm down,” Tate said, raising his voice. Up till then he’d been infuriatingly calm. “You forgot a pair of earrings. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I didn’t forget them.” Drawing a deep breath, she faced him. “This isn’t the first time something has mysteriously disappeared.”

“You should have told me. I’ll call hotel security right away.”

She caught his arm before he could reach for the telephone. “Not just here. At home, too. Somebody’s been sneaking into my room and going through my things.”

His reaction was what she had expected. “That’s ridiculous. Are you crazy?”

“No. And I’m not imagining it, either. I’m missing several things—small, insignificant things. Like this pair of earrings that I know damn good and well I packed. I checked and double-checked my accessories before I put them in the suitcases.”

Sensitive to any criticism of his family, he folded his arms across his chest. “Who are you accusing of stealing?”

“I don’t mind the missing objects so much as the violation of my privacy.”

Just then a knock had sounded on their door—the perfect culmination for a frazzling day. “Case in point,” she had said irritably. “Why can’t we ever finish a private conversation before we’re interrupted?”

“Keep your voice down. Eddy’ll hear you.”

“To hell with Eddy,” she had said, meaning it.

Tate pulled the door open and Eddy came striding in. “Ready, guys?”

By way of explanation for their being late, Tate said, “Carole lost her earrings.”

She shot him a look that clearly stated she had not lost them.

“Well, wear some others or go without, but we’ve got to get downstairs.” Eddy held the door open. “Jack’s waiting with the car. It’s an hour’s drive.”

They rushed for the elevator. Thankfully, another hotel guest saw them coming and politely held it for them. Jack was pacing the length of the limo parked in the porte cochere.

For the duration of the drive they discussed polls and campaign strategy. She could have been invisible, for all the attention she was given. Once, when she offered an unsolicited opinion, it was met with three impassive stares, then summarily ignored.

Surprisingly, the party had been fun. No press was allowed. Since she didn’t have to concentrate on dodging Van’s camera, she relaxed and enjoyed herself. There was a plethora of good Texana food, friendly people who likened Tate to a young John Kennedy, and live music. She even got to dance with Tate. Eddy had pressured him into it.

“Come on. It’ll look good to the crowd.”

For the time Tate held her in his arms and twirled her around the dance floor, she pretended it had been his idea. Heads thrown back, they had smiled at each other as their feet kept time to the lively tune. She believed he was actually enjoying himself. As the music reached a crescendo, he lifted her against him and whirled her around to the exuberant applause of everyone watching. Then he had bent down and kissed her c

heek.

When he pulled back, there was an odd expression on his face. He appeared surprised by his own spontaneity.

On the return trip into the city, however, she sat in the corner of the limousine’s backseat, staring through the dark patch of tinted window while he, Jack, and Eddy analyzed how well the day had gone and assessed what effect it might have on the outcome of the election.

She had gone to bed feeling exhausted and glum. She’d had difficulty falling asleep. The nightmare—and she could count on one hand the others she had had in her lifetime—was the product of a physically and emotionally taxing day.

She treasured this uninterrupted moment with Tate. They were continually surrounded by other people. Even in their own suite, they were rarely alone.