Mirror Image

Houston. Its members have lots of money, even in these depressed times. Here,” he said, thrusting several sheets of paper at Tate, “this was a hell of a speech you gave in Amarillo last month. Glance over it. And for God’s sake, get out of that chambray and denim and put on a conservative suit.”
    “This crowd sounds more like Dekker people.”
    “They are. That’s why it’s important that you go. Dekker’s made you out to be a kid with his head in the clouds, at best, or a wacko liberal, at worst. Show them you’ve got both feet on the ground and that you don’t have horns and a pointed tail.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re invited, too, Carole. Look your charming best. The women—”
    “I can’t be there.”
    Everyone’s attention abruptly shifted from Eddy to her, where she still sat on the floor with Mandy, holding a selection of crayons in her hand and a picture of Donald Duck in her lap. “Mandy’s appointment with Dr. Webster is at one o’clock today.”
    “Crap.” Tate plowed his hand through his hair. “That’s right. I’d forgotten.”
    Eddy divided his disbelieving gaze between them. “You can’t even consider throwing away this opportunity. We’re up one point in the polls this week, Tate, but we’re still trailing by a dismal margin. This speech could mean a lot of campaign dollars—dollars we need to buy TV commercial time.”
    Jack tossed his folded newspaper aside. “Make another appointment with this doctor.”
    “What about it, Carole?” Tate asked.
    “You know how hard this one was to come by. I probably wouldn’t be able to get another one for weeks. Even if I could, I don’t believe it would be in Mandy’s best interest to postpone.”
    Tate watched his brother, father, and campaign manager exchange telling glances. They wanted him to make a speech to this influential crowd of Rotarians, and they were right. These conservatives, staunch Dekker supporters, needed to be convinced that he was a viable candidate and not a hotheaded upstart. When he looked down at his wife, however, he could feel the strength behind her calm gaze. He would be damned either way he went. “Christ.”
    “I could go to the psychologist’s office with Carole,” Zee offered. “Tate, you make your speech. We can fill you in later on what the doctor has to say about Mandy.”
    “I appreciate the offer, Mom, but she’s my daughter.”
    “And this could mean the election,” Eddy argued, raising his voice.
    Jack stood and hiked up the waistband of his pants, as though he was about to engage in a fistfight. “I agree with Eddy one hundred percent.”
    “One speech isn’t going to cost the election. Dad?”
    “I think your mother had the most workable solution. You know I don’t put much stock in shrinks, so I wouldn’t mind a bit going to hear what this one has to say about my granddaughter.”
    “Carole?”
    She had let the dispute revolve around her without contributing anything to it, which was uncharacteristic. As long as Tate had known her, she had never failed to express her opinion.
    “They’re both terribly important, Tate,” she said. “It has to be your decision.”
    Eddy swore beneath his breath and shot her a glance of supreme annoyance. He would rather her rant and rave and fight to get her way. Tate felt the same. It had been much easier to say no to Carole when she was being obstreperous and inflexible. Lately, she used her dark, eloquent eyes to express herself more than she used a strident voice.
    Whatever his choice, it would be met with disapproval. The deciding factor was Mandy herself. He looked down into her solemn little face. Even though she couldn’t have understood what the controversy was about, she seemed to be apologizing to him for causing such a fuss.
    “Call them back, Eddy, and graciously decline.” Carole’s posture relaxed, as though she’d been holding herself in breathless anticipation of his answer. “Tell them Mrs. Rutledge and I have a previous engagement.”
    “But—”
    Tate held up his hand to ward off a barrage of protests. He gave his friend a hard, decisive stare. “My first obligation is to my family. I was guaranteed your understanding, remember?”
    Eddy gave him a hard, exasperated stare, then stormed out. Tate couldn’t blame him for being pissed. He didn’t have a child. He was responsible to no one but himself. How could he possibly understand divided loyalties?
    “I hope you know what you’re