but time and again the town’s founding family had failed to extend a measurable political influence beyond the confines of their valley.
The closest they’d come was the 1928 gubernatorial race when the elder Sal’s own father had come within four hundred votes of getting the Democratic nomination. It was something of an enigma to those long-lived enough to have a clear perspective on the matter, who had watched the money change hands over promises of political appointments that never materialized, nominations that fell short of the necessary votes. It was a crushing legacy for one of the oldest lines in America—a line that might have claimed a more obvious place in the history books alongside Washington and Jefferson. But as with most families with sufficient resources, the Baxters had learned the fine art of wielding influence behind the scenes. The elder Sal’s grandfather had been instrumental in Calvin Coolidge’s nomination to the Republican ticket, and lobbyists sympathetic to the family interests had ensured the passage or blockage of many a bill that impacted Baxter business holdings. But while these machinations had allowed the Baxters to prosper, they had failed to scratch the itch passed down through the generations—the lusting for electoral validation.
Graham’s election to the state senate had come as a surprise to everyone. His opponent was a strong incumbent, and Graham had only run against him because Adelia’s current mayor, a three-term Republican, after bringing in the last of the county’s two prisons and providing almost four hundred jobs, had been even more firmly entrenched in his administrative cocoon than was Graham’s eventual adversary for the senate seat. Nothing about the campaign signaled a win for the newcomer; every poll had Senator William Paisley ahead by a comfortable margin, and the Baxters, for all their money and lengthy presence in the political arena, lacked the recent expertise necessary to mount a cogent fight. Even so, when the votes were counted, it was Graham whom the TV cameras shot giving his wife and two kids victory kisses. It was another of those things that local historians couldn’t explain, except to assume that the quiet influence of Adelia’s oldest family had finally greased the right palms.
Now two years into Graham’s first term, and with the sponsorship of three successful bills and a committee chairmanship under his belt, the winds had favored a run at a position with national influence. Sal Sr., who saw in his grandson the family’s best chance to finally achieve the stature they’d long coveted, could not shake the suspicion that Graham’s rising political star might have had more to do with the lessening of the standards people currently held for their elected officials than any claim Graham might have to consummate statesmanship. Still, and despite the fact that he suspected something would go wrong, something that would prevent Graham from winning the election, he was proud of his grandson, and only regretted that he would not live to see how the whole thing played out.
Graham, who had been watching this progression of thought on Sal’s face as if the man’s skin were a movie screen, could see the pleasure in the old man’s eyes. But it lasted for only a few seconds before his brow furrowed. He gestured for Graham, and did not say a word until his grandson had leaned down, his ear close to the old man’s mouth. When Sal spoke, it was clear that his words were for Graham alone.
“Don’t let Weidman take them away,” Sal said.
Once the words had passed Sal’s lips, Graham straightened but only pulled far enough back to look Sal in the eyes. After a few moments, the target of Sal Sr.’s last instruction as head of the Baxter household gave a slight nod.
“I won’t,” was all he said.
When death finally came for Sal, on the heels of his grandson’s response, it came quickly. It was almost a surprise to the old man, who had forgotten about the lingering specter while enjoying the brief flash of clarity these last minutes had given him. He almost felt his heart beat its last, his chest lock down. But there was no pain. And as the room slipped away, he thought to wonder if the shrewdest of his relatives was speaking the truth.
When Sal had been dead for a full minute, George released the breath he’d been holding and leaned back against Sal’s dresser, his body shifting the dresser and causing the single framed photo on top of it to topple over. Graham