“Oh,” Caitlin said, with a sort of brightness that sounded more studied than sincere. “Are you coming to the event?”
He let out a chuckle. “Not exactly. I’m with PCA. Positive Community Action.”
“I think I’ve heard of you,” Caitlin said distantly.
“I’m not surprised. Though we’ve been playing opposite ends of the field, it seems like.”
He crouched down next to Caitlin. Michelle could see him better now. His face was all planes joined at sharp angles. She hadn’t thought he was handsome at first glance, but his eyes were nice, she thought: big, dark and expressive. Now they were focused on Caitlin.
“I’d really like to talk to you about your efforts here in California. I’ve heard a lot of what you have to say, and I think we want the same things. We just have different ideas of how to go about it.”
“Very different ideas, from what I understand.”
Caitlin’s body language-sitting back in her chair, arms crossed-was clear. She wanted nothing to do with him.
He shifted on his haunches, like something was hurting him, and then he held very still.
“Mrs. O’Connor… I’ve lost people too.”
They stared at each other. Michelle had the oddest feeling just then, that she’d somehow intruded on a private moment.
“All right,” Caitlin said abruptly, uncrossing her arms. Still watchful. “There’s no reason we can’t talk. Michelle, would you make sure to get Mr. Stone’s contact information? We’ll set up a time.”
“Now, in the months coming up, you’re gonna hear a lot of talk.”
Matthew Moss stood at the podium. He’d been talking for a while. In her seat at Table #1, Michelle was close enough to see him sweat.
“You’re gonna hear talk about how pot is harmless. You’re gonna hear talk about how we’re sending too many people to prison. You know what they aren’t gonna talk about?”
He paused. Put both his hands on the podium. Leaned forward.
“How since we got tougher on crime, crime rates in the US have gone down. Way down.”
Michelle watched a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, getting caught on his eyebrow.
“What we’ve done is made America safer. And anyone who tells you otherwise? Is either deluded, a criminal… Or a poverty pimp.”
If that was one of his catchphrases, he really ought to practice saying it in front of a microphone without popping his Ps, Michelle thought.
“There are people out there who profit from keeping poor people down. From keeping them dependent on big government. On handouts from Uncle Sugar. Poverty pimps.” He laughed. “You know what they don’t want? They don’t want people helping themselves. Working their way up. Taking responsibility for their own actions. Because if that happened? They’d all be out of a job!”
Polite laughter.
Did the people in this crowd really buy any of this? Michelle wondered. They seemed to be willing to write big, fat checks for it.
“All this talk about how we need to put fewer people in jail, well, I do agree with that. But I disagree with how we make that happen. We don’t let criminals go free.” He slapped the podium. The low, hollow thud echoed through the ballroom. “We demand people take responsibility for their own actions. We examine cultural dysfunctions, honestly, without letting special interests and politically correct garbage get in the way.” He slapped the podium again. “Why aren’t we talking about black-on-black violence? Why isn’t anyone willing to look honestly at that?”
Next to her, Caitlin sighed. She leaned over to Michelle. “Honey, can you pass me some of that wine?”
Michelle really didn’t want to. If she’d counted correctly, Caitlin had polished off four glasses already. And as usual, she hadn’t eaten much, though the dinner was several cuts above the usual banquet fare-the poached Skuna Bay salmon with red quinoa and ratatouille from local vegetables wasn’t half-bad, Michelle had thought.
“You don’t agree?” Michelle asked. “With what he’s saying?”
“Well, there’s some of truth to it, of course,” Caitlin said quickly. “It’s just that… I’ve heard it so many times before.” A slight hesitation. “Let’s just say I think he oversimplifies. And frankly?” She leaned in closer. “He’s such an asshole.”
Michelle couldn’t entirely repress a snort.
“Now how about that wine? Just a half a glass. I promise.” Caitlin grinned. “And you can drag me to another yoga class in the morning.”
“You don’t want to go to jail?” Another podium slap. “Don’t break the law. It’s that simple.”
“Well, let’s get this over with.” Caitlin pushed her Swiss Black Forest cake aside, braced her hands on the edge of the table and stood. She hadn’t been announced yet, but it was time for her to take her position by the podium for her introduction. Perry Aisles, the bundler who was the official “host” of the event, had already risen from his seat, and he was the one introducing Caitlin.
Was she okay? Michelle wasn’t sure. She had that frail, faded look that Michelle had seen before.
Michelle stood too. “I’ll walk you up.”
“Oh, you don’t need to come,” Caitlin said, with her usual wave. “Sit down and enjoy your dessert.”
“I don’t really eat dessert.”
Caitlin laughed. “Of course you don’t.”
“It’s better if I come with you. I might need to, to take notes.”
Her stomach was in knots, and she wasn’t sure why.
Nothing was going to happen here, was it?
Caitlin laid a hand on Michelle’s arm. “You’re sweet. Come if you’d like, but I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t even begin to express how much I admire this woman…”
Aisles was a TV producer who had made his bones on police procedurals dealing with serial killers. Sixty-ish, close-cropped hair, thin and as tanned as leather, looking like an aging surfer in a designer suit.
“… whose bravery, courage and commitment is why we’re all here tonight.”
Wasn’t that redundant? Michelle thought.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Caitlin O’Connor.”
Caitlin looked so small up on the podium.
People applauded. She glanced at them briefly and smiled. Took a moment to adjust the microphone. Then picked up a couple pages of notes and appeared to study them.
She put the notes on the lectern and looked up.
“I’m going to keep this short. I know y’all support what we’re doing. You’re here, aren’t you? And I so deeply appreciate that.”
She wasn’t looking at the audience. She seemed to look past them, somewhere just behind them and above their heads.
“Lately I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what a Safer America really means. What it might look like. And I can’t really see it quite clearly yet.”
Now her head tilted down. Focused. First on a table in the front. Then on one next to it, and one behind.
“But what I want y’all to know is, I’m going to keep looking. We’re going to keep looking.”
It was a neat trick, Michelle thought. Caitlin really was good at this. You could feel the connection she was making, the way she drew people in.
“We’re committed to finding real solutions to America’s problems. We’re not going to be hemmed in by any partisan straightjackets. We’re going to look for answers everywhere, regardless of party, regardless of ideology.”
Funny, Michelle thought. You couldn’t stop watching her. She was mostly so still, awash in all that cream and beige, and it was as if every small gesture she made had some special significance.
“Y’all have seen what we’ve managed to accomplish so far. So I’m asking you to have a little faith. I promise you that every dollar you contribute is going to be spent carefully and thoughtfully.”
Now Caitlin smiled. Tilted her head and her eyes up. There was something private about the smile. Something that made you want to weep.