back and watch her mother interact with him and see if perhaps it all explained itself.
But to do that, she had to get the party started. To that end, she mustered up the fake sincere smile that her years on the political party circuit had honed to perfection and turned to face him. “Hello,” she said, deciding to take the upper hand. It remained to be seen how long she held it. “I’m Lauren.” She put her hand out to avoid any potential awkward attempt at hugging, as well as to establish that while she was going to be polite, she wasn’t going to be insincere and say she was happy to meet him. Best to be as up front as possible with the man, no matter what her mother might be hoping for.
“Arlen,” he said, thankfully dispensing with any formal or titular introductions.
Neither of which would have surprised her after reading a few of his speeches. In fact, when he stepped closer to take her offered hand, she duly noted the automatic “kissing babies stump speeching” smile she was certain came as easily to him as breathing, but was surprised to also notice that he appeared almost a little nervous. There was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead even though the temperature in the room was quite moderate. Could he really be so worried about whether or not his wife’s new daughter gave them her blessing? From what she’d gleaned about the man, that wouldn’t likely be the case. So…why the telltale flopsweat?
“It’s a true pleasure to finally be making your acquaintance,” he said, still sounding like he was stumping for votes. Some politicians were like that, she’d learned, adopting a fixed-smile social persona that they became so entrenched in, they found themselves unable to flip the switch to truly sincere when the moment—and the company—dictated it. Like, you know…with family.
Others, like Senator Fordham, were comfortable and easily and sincerely themselves in any circumstance, private and social. A shame Arlen didn’t fall into her former boss’s category. But then, if he had, she’d have understood more why her mother had fallen for the man and they wouldn’t be having this awkward dinner meeting in the first place.
“Please, have a seat,” he added, all fixed smile and perfect, dentist-enhanced teeth. And…nervous. Up close it was even more obvious. “I hope you don’t mind the private room; I thought you and your mother would appreciate the privacy. I—”
“We do,” she said, feeling oddly compelled to put him at ease. It threw her off a little, his slight lack of composure. She’d been certain he would ooze the same rather smarmy charm she’d noted in the few taped speeches she’d been able to scrounge up during her search. And the smarmy charm was definitely there on the surface; his plastered-on enthusiasm hadn’t changed a flicker since she’d entered the room, but the underlying nerves didn’t seem to match up right.
She wanted to believe it was just about a man wanting to please his new wife. But he hadn’t so much as glanced at her since Lauren had entered the room, much less shown any kind of united front by standing next to her. Which left the other, less flattering, but far more plausible option, given what she knew. That his nerves stemmed from him wanting to make a good impression on her for personal reasons. In her case, she could only surmise that would be because of her connections to the power players in Washington. Though what good he thought that would do him as mayor of a small Colorado mountain town, she had no idea.
“Why don’t we all have a seat.” Her mother, ever the hostess, directed them to the table with a smile. “The wine steward should be here with our request momentarily. I hope you don’t mind, Lauren, dear, but we ordered a lovely bottle of pinot noir, grown locally, in fact. We’ll be more than happy to get something else—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lauren said, allowing the mayor to pull her seat back
But to do that, she had to get the party started. To that end, she mustered up the fake sincere smile that her years on the political party circuit had honed to perfection and turned to face him. “Hello,” she said, deciding to take the upper hand. It remained to be seen how long she held it. “I’m Lauren.” She put her hand out to avoid any potential awkward attempt at hugging, as well as to establish that while she was going to be polite, she wasn’t going to be insincere and say she was happy to meet him. Best to be as up front as possible with the man, no matter what her mother might be hoping for.
“Arlen,” he said, thankfully dispensing with any formal or titular introductions.
Neither of which would have surprised her after reading a few of his speeches. In fact, when he stepped closer to take her offered hand, she duly noted the automatic “kissing babies stump speeching” smile she was certain came as easily to him as breathing, but was surprised to also notice that he appeared almost a little nervous. There was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead even though the temperature in the room was quite moderate. Could he really be so worried about whether or not his wife’s new daughter gave them her blessing? From what she’d gleaned about the man, that wouldn’t likely be the case. So…why the telltale flopsweat?
“It’s a true pleasure to finally be making your acquaintance,” he said, still sounding like he was stumping for votes. Some politicians were like that, she’d learned, adopting a fixed-smile social persona that they became so entrenched in, they found themselves unable to flip the switch to truly sincere when the moment—and the company—dictated it. Like, you know…with family.
Others, like Senator Fordham, were comfortable and easily and sincerely themselves in any circumstance, private and social. A shame Arlen didn’t fall into her former boss’s category. But then, if he had, she’d have understood more why her mother had fallen for the man and they wouldn’t be having this awkward dinner meeting in the first place.
“Please, have a seat,” he added, all fixed smile and perfect, dentist-enhanced teeth. And…nervous. Up close it was even more obvious. “I hope you don’t mind the private room; I thought you and your mother would appreciate the privacy. I—”
“We do,” she said, feeling oddly compelled to put him at ease. It threw her off a little, his slight lack of composure. She’d been certain he would ooze the same rather smarmy charm she’d noted in the few taped speeches she’d been able to scrounge up during her search. And the smarmy charm was definitely there on the surface; his plastered-on enthusiasm hadn’t changed a flicker since she’d entered the room, but the underlying nerves didn’t seem to match up right.
She wanted to believe it was just about a man wanting to please his new wife. But he hadn’t so much as glanced at her since Lauren had entered the room, much less shown any kind of united front by standing next to her. Which left the other, less flattering, but far more plausible option, given what she knew. That his nerves stemmed from him wanting to make a good impression on her for personal reasons. In her case, she could only surmise that would be because of her connections to the power players in Washington. Though what good he thought that would do him as mayor of a small Colorado mountain town, she had no idea.
“Why don’t we all have a seat.” Her mother, ever the hostess, directed them to the table with a smile. “The wine steward should be here with our request momentarily. I hope you don’t mind, Lauren, dear, but we ordered a lovely bottle of pinot noir, grown locally, in fact. We’ll be more than happy to get something else—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lauren said, allowing the mayor to pull her seat back
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