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‘It’s just a dinner, David. If it was the Republican convention, or if you had started on the campaign trail yourself or something, then fair enough.’
‘Just a dinner,’ he said sarcastically.
‘Well it is, honey. It’s not as if you and your family don’t know these people already. It’s not as if you are turning down the invitation.’
Brooke took hold of his arm. It felt tense in her hand. ‘Please don’t be like this. I know the dinner is important to you, but this is important to me too. Eileen’s my author and she needs me. You have your family to be there and back you up every step of the way, but Eileen has no one. She’s twenty–six, bringing up three kids, trying to make life better for those children. I really feel can help someone.’
‘Fine,’ he said, walking towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘For a walk.’
‘David, you’re obviously upset, let’s talk about it some more.’
He didn’t even turn to look at her. ‘I’ll see you downstairs at seven,’ he said, closing the door.
If Brooke could have left Cliffpoint right then, she would have. Instead she had to walk alone into the throng of Billingtons, all congregated in the drawing room. At least David’s cousin Lily was there; her co–opted bridesmaid was not her favourite person in the world, but when she saw Lily’s lean blonde form at the bottom of the stairs, Brooke almost leapt with joy. Conversation about Lily’s Zac Posen bridesmaid dress easily took up the time until dinner was announced. Brooke was only faintly aware of David glowering at her from across the room and, when they sat next to each other at the enormous formal dinner table, no one seemed to notice that Brooke and David were speaking to everybody except each other.
The meal was exquisite; a starter of rare roast beef salad served with green beans and horseradish cream, and then cold lobster and aspic, served with the finest wines Brooke had ever tasted.
‘So. How is the speech coming along for Houston fundraiser?’ asked Wendell, sticking his fork into a delicate walnut tart. ‘There’s a couple of good guys we can draft in to help with that; Ted is particularly good. Used to work with Condoleeza.’
‘It’s under control,’ smiled David, taking a sip of Château Pétrus.
Rose was sitting opposite her future daughter–in–law. ‘Brooke, I’ve got a few events planned in Houston for us both. I have a wonderful girlfriend who has invited us for lunch. There will be no finer guide to Houston. The shopping there is surprisingly good.’
Brooke took a breath and put her goblet of wine down on the table. ‘I’m probably not going to be able to make the dinner,’ she said, not meeting Rose’s eye directly.
Wendell looked across the table at her. ‘Really?’ he said, trying to mask his disapproval with surprise.
‘A business meeting to LA has come up. It’s very important and can’t be rescheduled.’
‘I can’t recall hearing of a meeting that can’t be rescheduled,’ he said with an overly enthusiastic smile. ‘Some of the party’s biggest donors are going to be at the dinner. Men who got both Bushes into the White House. Regardless of this family, they are going to be sizing David up. Checking him out, particularly with all those Florida Keys heroics still being talked about.’ He wiped the edge of his mouth with a napkin. ‘And of course everyone wants to meet you, Brooke. David, I think you should persuade her to attend,’ he said, moving his gaze from Brooke to his son.
Brooke didn’t dare look at her fiancé.
‘Brooke’s meeting is very important, and while she is going to try and move it, you know what these Hollywood lot are like,’ David told him. ‘Look like you aren’t interested and you’ve missed your window of opportunity. Her career is important too.’
Wendell returned silently to his walnut tart, his mouth in a firm, tight
line, and Brooke dropped her arm to her side, reaching over to touch David’s leg gratefully.
‘Coffee in the library,’ announced Rose.
As David was caught talking to his two cousins from Boston, Brooke went outside to get some fresh air. It was a relief to be alone; the tension in the dining room had almost choked her.
Walking to the edge of the terrace, she stood at the top of the stairs that led to the lawns, listening to the distant roar of angry waves on the rocks and the rustle of a breeze in the trees.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Robert Billington standing there, backlit by the glow coming from the house.
‘Brandy?’ He handed her a crystal balloon glass a third full of amber liquid.
Brooke observed him suspiciously. He was wearing a navy blazer with gold buttons that made him look about ten years older than thirty–five and an arrogant half–smile. Brooke had never liked Robert. As a student at Yale, he had been in a terrible car accident when he vehicle had exploded into a fireball. Robert had been lucky to escape alive, but he still had burns all over his torso which crept up above the neck of his shirt like snake tongues. People whispered that his accident was why Robert worked for his father, instead of pursuing a political career, but in Brooke’s opinion he was simply an unpleasant character devoid of the charm and smarts needed for Capitol Hill.
‘How are the wedding plans coming along? Florida Keys was an unusual choice.’
‘Not really, for a winter wedding. Plus we really wanted something with a family connection. Jewel Key is my uncle’s house. It will be private. I know security has been a bit of a concern for you.’
