A Billionaire's Redemption - By Cindy Dees Page 0,40
took the reporter by the arm and gestured for the cameraman to come along. She kept up a steady stream of commentary about the Ladies’ Auxiliary and their charity work, and gave the reporter no chance to get a word in edgewise. It was a tactic straight out of her father’s playbook. Before Ms. Craddock knew what was happening, Willa had handed her off to Jackie Carver, who would no doubt talk the reporter’s ear off.
Willa turned away from the camera and flummoxed journalist in relief. And there was Gabe, only a few feet away, waiting watchfully.
“Shall we be on our way again?” he asked.
“Let’s.”
This time when they went back outside, the picketers weren’t as loud or aggressive with their sign waving. Willa stopped in front of a woman whose poster showed a very sick little girl lying in what looked like a hospital bed.
“Tell me about your daughter,” Willa asked gently.
The woman told a tale of respiratory problems and mystery symptoms, and a frustrating failure by doctors to find a source of the girl’s serious illness. Willa pressed her business card into the woman’s surprised hand. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll have my staff help you get access to medical research specialists. If fracking is making your daughter sick, I want to know.”
The crowd nearby went silent, apparently stunned that she gave a darn.
“Do you have a leader or representative of some kind?” Willa raised her voice to ask the group at large.
An imposing man in a black suit coat, jeans and black cowboy boots stepped forward. “That would be me, I suppose.”
She gave him a card, as well. “Call me. I want to hear more about what all of you are experiencing.”
“Uhh, okay. Sure,” the man replied, obviously more than a little suspicious. But the crowd’s ire seemed diffused and they called farewells to her as Gabe handed her into the SUV.
The Escalade pulled away from the curb before he asked, “Are you really going to talk to those people?”
“Yes. The way I understand government to work, I’m the representative of the people. It’s hard to represent them if I don’t know what worries them.”
“A noble—and naive—sentiment. If you were to hold your father’s office for more than a few weeks, the lobbyists and political-action committees would change your mind soon enough, I expect.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” she replied. “I read a number of my father’s notes, and I have no lofty illusions about how deals get done in Washington. In my mind, the key to being a decent congresswoman is to plan on serving only one term in congress and spending that entire time voting the will of one’s constituents and one’s conscience.”
Gabe laughed. “If only.”
She sighed. “It’s not like I’m going to get a chance to make a difference in the few months I’ve got in this job.”
“You’ve still got the power to endorse a candidate and make a few statements and press releases. The question is, what things matter to you? What do you want to tackle in the time you have?”
She studied him with interest. That was an excellent question. And no one had ever asked it of her before. What did matter to her? For her entire life, John Merris had dictated what was important to her and her mother. He’d coached them in how to answer any political or opinion questions to mirror his platforms. It had always been about him.
“I don’t even know which political party I would support if I had the choice,” she said in wonder.
Gabe glanced over at her in surprise. “Well, then, you’ve got some homework to do, kiddo. Your father’s political party expects you to endorse their replacement candidate for him by next week.”
She sighed. “I should be teaching a bunch of kids their numbers and letters and colors this week. Instead, I’m embroiled in politics and my father’s murder, people breaking into my house and a criminal investigation against James Ward. And if the women at the ball were correct, I’ve apparently sprouted horns and a forked tail, too.”
“You don’t actually care what those bleached-blonde bitches think, do you?” Gabe asked scornfully.
If only she had his tough hide. But no one had ever turned on her like that before, and it had been hurtful and humiliating. And her mother...
“Someone must have given my mother uppers to get her to that ball. She’s been nearly catatonic since my father died.”
“It sounded like someone fed her a bunch of lies, too. You do know not to