Part 5 (1/2)
For the first few weeks after they'd met in the senator's office, Vince had called her that.
”Is the senator in, Mrs. Fletcher? ”
”He is, Private DaCosta, but I'm afraida”
”Vince.” 'a”his schedule is completely full again today.”
”I'll-wait.”
She was sympathetic but firm. ”He can't see you today.”
”I'll wait. Maybe something will open up.”
”Privatea” ”
”My name is Vince.”
She gave him that look. Exasperated and disapproving and yet laced with something else. Something that made him more determined than ever to stay. ”Go home, Private DaCosta. Leave me your phone number, and I'll call you if something opens up anda”
”I'll wait, thanks. Mrs. Fletcher.”
”It's Mrs. DaCosta now,” Charlie told the interviewer.
”Of course,” he said. ”You were twenty-two when he died.”
”Life goes on.”
”It does,” Bradley agreed. ”You do the best you can with the hand you've been dealt.”
And fate had dealt her Vince DaCosta. No doubt about that. He'd made it impossible for her to shut herself away from life, to spend the rest of her days as Jim Fletcher's grieving widow.
Or had he? Hearing her talk about her first husband now gave him pause.
All these years, and he'd never dared to sit down with her, to look into her eyes, and to ask her, ”Do you still miss him?”
He'd never dared, because deep inside, he was afraid that the answer was yes.
So he'd worked his b.u.t.t off to be the best d.a.m.n second choice she'd ever had. He'd made her smile, he'd made her laugh, he'd given her a home and a family. He'd loved her completely, unequivocably, unconditionally.
But he'd never given her a chance to put Fletcher properly and permanently to rest.
”Vince.”
He looked up to find Charlie off the set and halfway to the door to the parking lot, looking back at him with that same exasperated look that he'd come to know so well.
”I said, we're done,” she told him. ”We can go now.”
”Sorry,” he said, digging into his pocket for the car keys.
”You didn't hear me,” she said.
Not this again. She thought he needed a hearing aid, of all the ridiculous ideas. It was true he had to turn up the TV a little bit louder when the ball game was on, but that was just part of turning eighty. Hearing aids were expensive, and they had better things to do with their hard-earned money. ”I wasn't listening. I was woolgathering.” He held the door for her. Changed the subject. ”You were great.”
She looked anxious. ”You think? I wasn't sure what they wanted, and then... Did you hear me say a.s.s?”
”Loud and clear.”
”Oh, dear. That'll make it into the program, guaranteed. Did Joanie call?”
Vince checked the messages on his cell phone for any sign that his granddaughter had phoned. ”No, but remember she said she probably wouldn't have time to get in touch until tomorrow.”
”I know. I'm just anxious to see her.”
”She also said she'll be in town for about four weeks. We'll get a chance to spend some time with her.”
”I'm afraid that she doesn't realize just how bad Donny's gotten,” Charlie said as Vince unlocked their car from twenty feet away.
Best invention since the PC, this keyless entry. Vince loved technology. Couldn't wait to see what they'd come up with next.
”She knows, Charles. She talks to him on the phone.” Vince opened the car door for her.
”That's not the same as visiting.”
”Well, she's here, she'll visit. And maybe she'll get him to stop being such an a.s.s and start taking his meds again.” He made sure her coat wouldn't get caught before he shut the car door, then went around to the other side.
”It's all your fault, you know,” Charlie said with a laugh as Vince got behind the wheel. Her smile still killed him. ”Before I met you, I wouldn't have dreamed of uttering the word a.s.s in public, let alone on national television.” She paused. ”Think they'll use that part of the tape?”
He looked at her over the top of his sungla.s.ses. More than fifty years of marriage, and he really didn't have to say anything. She knew darn well what he was thinking. And he could predict exactly what she'd say next.
”Well, too bad,” she said. ”It was the truth. They asked, and I answered.”
He started the car. ”Well, good.”
”I'm not worrying about it,” she said, a slight frown furrowing her brow.
This was the moment right here where it absolutely wouldn't do either of them any good if he laughed. Even a smile could be dangerous and could segue into either ”Vince, Don't Laugh, This Is a Serious Thing,” or ”I Know You Think Otherwise, Vincent, but I Am Not Really Worrying When I Bring Up a Subject and Talk about It to Death.”
They'd been having variations of those two conversations on a pretty regular basis for nearly six decades.
Neither was even remotely possible for him to win.
Which was all right with Vince, because his goal with Charlie was nota”and had never beena”to win. It was part of her nature to worry things to death. He knew that about her before he'd asked her to marry him.
For some reason she seemed to believe that worrying was a bad thing, and she was therefore determined to try as often as possible to convince both of them that she honestly wasn't worrying.
It hadn't taken Vince more than a decade to figure out that the trick was to let her go ahead and talk a subject to death if she wanted. Because the real trouble came when she held her worries inside.