Metsy Hingle - Deadline

“He’s not happy about it, but he’s accepted it,” Tess replied. And she hoped that was true. Her grandfather had been furious with her over her decision to end things with Jonathan. If there was one thing she’d learned in the years since she’d come to D.C. as a four-year-old to live with him and her grandmother, it was that her grandfather did not like it when things didn’t go according to his plan—be it on Capitol Hill or in his family. Her turning down Jonathan’s proposal was not part of his plan. But marrying the man was not part of her own plan.

“So no more schemes by the senator to throw you and Johnny together?”

“I made it clear to my grandfather that I’m not going to change my mind,” Tess informed her. The final straw had occurred ten days ago when she’d arrived for her weekly dinner with her grandparents and had been advised that Jonathan would be joining them. Her grandmother had been clearly distressed by the senator’s announcement, but Tess had been furious with him for, once again, trying to run her life. As a result, she had left the restaurant, leaving him to explain her absence to Jonathan.

“I can imagine how that went over. I got the impression at that charity dinner last month that the senator had earmarked Johnny boy as his future grandson-in-law.”

“He may have, but it wasn’t his decision to make. It was mine, which is what I told him.” The day after the scene in the restaurant, she’d threatened to sever all contact with her grandfather if he continued to interfere in her personal life.

Ronnie arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “And what was the senator’s response to that?”

“Let’s just say, he wasn’t thrilled with my decision.” The truth was, she and her grandfather had barely spoken since that night. “And I’d really like to drop the subject.”

“Sure,” Ronnie told her as she slathered butter on another cracker. She paused, looked up at Tess. “So if it’s not the senator or Johnny causing you to lose your beauty sleep, what or who is?”

“Ronnie,” Tess said, making no attempt to hide her exasperation.

“Two chicken specials,” the waitress declared and Tess was grateful for the interruption. After the young woman removed the salad plate, she placed the plate of grilled chicken with a rice pilaf in front of Ronnie. She paused at the sight of Tess’s soup, which had barely been touched. “Something wrong with the soup?”

“No. It’s fine, but I’ve had enough. You can take it,” Tess told her.

She added the soup plate and cup to her tray and promptly served Tess her own plate of chicken. “You ladies let me know if you need anything else,” the woman declared and hustled off in the direction of the kitchen.

“This looks good,” Tess said as she picked up her fork.

“If that’s your subtle way of ignoring my question, you should know me well enough by now to realize that I’m not going to stop hounding you until you tell me what’s wrong.” When she said nothing, Ronnie asked, “Is it work, Tess? I know sticking you with Kip on that last assignment wasn’t fair, but I didn’t have a choice. The jerk’s uncle wields a lot of power around here.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with work. It’s personal.”

Ronnie paused, and a concerned look came into her hazel eyes. “All right, Tess. I’ll back off. But as your friend, I have to tell you that I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before—not even when all that crap was going on about your father’s suicide. Just so you know, if you need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Ronnie. I appreciate it.” Yet Tess wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share with anyone the thoughts that had been running through her head since she’d received that phone call. But mostly, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to voice aloud what had been really troubling her—the idea that perhaps someone other than Jody Burns might have been responsible for her mother’s murder.

“I’m so glad you called,” Elizabeth Abbott said that Saturday morning when she greeted Tess at the front door of the elder Abbotts’ town house. “I do hate it so when you and your grandfather are at odds.”

“I know, Grams,” Tess said as she returned her hug. She drew back a fraction. “And I’m sorry that you’re the one who always gets caught in the cross fire.”

Her grandmother reached up and brushed the hair back from Tess’s face. “Don’t worry about me, dear. I’m a lot stronger than you think.”

“I’ve never doubted your strength,” Tess told her and she meant it. Her grandmother was a strong woman in her own way, having handled the loss of her only child, battled breast cancer and remained married to a strong-willed man like Senator Theodore Abbott for more than fifty years. “But sometimes I don’t understand how you can put up with Grandfather when he gets in one of his moods.”

“By one of his moods, I take you mean his being out of sorts because things haven’t gone as he planned?” her grandmother asked, a twinkle in her blue eyes as the two of them headed toward the breakfast room.

“Yes,” Tess replied. In truth, out of sorts was a mild description. Her grandfather was dictatorial and often nasty when he failed to get his way. She took a seat at the glass-and-rattan table where colorful place mats had been laid out with coffee cups and sterling.

“It’s called marriage, dear. When you marry someone you take them—warts and all.” She poured Tess a cup of coffee. “He’s a good man, Tess. He’s done some remarkable things in his life. And he only wants what’s best for you.”

“I know, Grams. But that doesn’t give him the right to try to manipulate me and decide who I should marry.”

Her grandmother took a seat at the table next to her. “He just doesn’t want you to make a mistake.”

“You mean the way my mother did?” Tess asked. “Maybe marrying Jody Burns was a mistake in Grandfather’s eyes. But it was her choice. Not his. And whomever I marry, it’s going to be my choice, not grandfather’s.”

“You’re so stubborn and righteous. Even more so than your mother was.” Her grandmother sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder if things would have turned out differently if you and your mother had taken after me more instead of your grandfather.”

With the morning light spilling in from the window across her grandmother’s face, Tess noted the lines bracketing her eyes. The tasteful short coif of hair that had once been blond had given way to a lovely silver. Despite her seventy-plus years, Elizabeth Abbott’s skin remained smooth, her face lovely. “You’re stubborn in your own quiet way, Grams.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” she conceded. She reached over and patted Tess’s hand. “So, are you going to tell me why you needed to talk to your grandfather and me?”

Tess was tempted to tell her grandmother, to confide in her all the questions that had been running through her head since receiving that phone call and the decision she’d finally reached. “I think maybe it’ll be better if I talk to the two of you together. When will Grandfather be home?”

“He had an early golf game with Senator Wilke. I expect him home any minute now.”

Any minute turned out to be nearly an hour later. And when her grandfather entered the breakfast room, the entire house seemed more alive. “Tess, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” her grandfather said gruffly, and Tess knew from his tone that he was still miffed at her over walking out on him at dinner more than a week ago.

“Tess called after you left this morning and asked if she could come by, Theo,” her grandmother explained as she poured her husband a cup of coffee before resuming her own seat.