think.”
“J.D.”
Jameson sighed.
“She’s a friend.” Dana raised her brow again. “Okay, I like her.”
“You like Senator
Fletcher?”
“No, I like Candace,”
Jameson replied dryly.
“As a friend?”
Jameson turned back to the mirror and sighed. “That’s what I thought. So, why
don’t you do something about it?”
Jameson shrugged. “I
don’t know.”
“J.D., I’ve known
Candy as long as I’ve known you…well, almost. Trust me, she feels the same
way.” Jameson turned back to face her friend. Dana was surprised to see fear
and hopefulness in Jameson’s eyes. She smiled knowingly. “You’re in love with
her.” Jameson did not respond. “Are you?” Jameson plopped down beside Dana and
nodded. Dana put a comforting arm around her friend. “Can’t say I saw that one
coming.”
“Neither did I.”
Dana patted Jameson’s
knee. “Want my advice?”
“Not really ,” Jameson said.
“Good,” Dana replied.
“Wait; what?” she asked. Jameson snickered.
Dana pinched the
architect’s knee. “Ow!”
“Just take her in
your arms and kiss her senseless,” Dana said.
Jameson laughed.
“Just walk up to Candace, pull her to me and kiss her; that’s your solution?”
“Pretty much,” Dana
said.
“And, she thinks I am
crazy?” Jameson asked.
“Hey, if she kisses
you back; you’ll know.”
“Somehow, Dana…I
think that plan might be flawed.”
“Worked for Steve.”
“Happy for you both,”
Jameson replied.
“Seriously, J.D.; no
matter what she says or does; you will know.”
Jameson gave her
friend an uncomfortable smile. “I guess, we’ll see.”
***
Candace stretched out
on the bed. A quick afternoon nap before all the festivities would begin seemed
deserved. She’d been hosting this Christmas party for twelve years. This event
had become a sought-after invitation in
the halls of the Washington D.C. power structure. Some years, even the president
had attended. Candace Fletcher was the perfect host. She had learned that skill
from her mother. Her parties were always elegant and ornate. That was not what
drew the elite. It was Candace’s style and candor that courted her harshest
critics and prompted even her political adversaries to seek an invitation.
Candace was a rare breed in Washington. Her demeanor, her wit, and her ability
to put politics aside for even an evening, harkened back to a different time in
the U.S. Senate. The most senior government officials in Washington had
nicknamed her The Charming Maverick. She was not afraid to go against the
grain, and with just a few words she could charm her most cantankerous opponents.
Candace looked
forward to this event every year. It reminded her of holidays past in her
granddad’s home. The New York social circuit would be abuzz every year about
Governor Stratton’s Christmas party. Businessmen, politicians, the aristocratic
element of the great Empire State all clamored for invitations. Governor and Mrs.
Stratton always invited entire families. The children were entertained by an appearance from Santa Claus, games, and
inevitably an old fashioned sleigh ride through the large fields that abutted
the governor’s home. There were no sleigh rides to offer here in Arlington,
Virginia. Candace’s townhome was a fraction the size of the house in New York.
Still, she strived to capture the feeling she remembered as a child.
Invitations were sent to families. Santa
would attend, and Candace would delight as much in the sound of children’s
laughter, and the nervousness of watchful parents, as she did in observing the political
jockeying that always entertained her. This year, there seemed to be only one
guest that she was truly anxious to see.
She reached for her phone.
“Senator,” the voice
greeted her.
“You made it in
safely.”
“I did. You do
realize that Steven is driving to this shindig of yours?”
“That certainly does
have risk factors,” Candace laughed.
“You sound tired,”
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