tomorrow.”
The waiter returned with their drinks and they gave their orders.
Buchanan worked on a glass of Scotch and water while Ward nuzzled a
bourbon, neat.
“So how’s your better half? Faith burning the midnight oil for another
client looking to ravage us poor, defenseless elected officials?”
“Actually, right now I believe she’s out of town. Personal reasons.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
Buchanan shrugged. “Jury’s still out on that. I’m sure she’ll pull
through.” But where was Faith? he wondered once more.
“I guess were all survivors. I don’t know how much longer this tired
old carcass of mine will hold out, though.”
Buchanan raised his drink. “Outlive us all, word of Danny Buchanan.”
“God, I hope not.” Ward looked at him keenly. “It’s hard to believe
that it’s been forty years since we left Bryn Mawr. You know,
sometimes I envy you having grown up in that apartment over our
garage.”
Buchanan smiled. “Funny, I was jealous of you for growing up in the
mansion with all that money while my family waited on yours. Now which
of us sounds drunk?”
“You’re the best friend I ever had.”
“And you know that sentiment is reciprocated, Senator.”
“It’s even more remarkable that you’ve never asked me for a damn thing.
You damn well know I sit on a couple committees that could help your
causes.”
“I like to avoid the appearance of impropriety.”
“You must be the only one in this town.” Ward chuckled.
“Let’s just say our friendship is more important to me than even that.”
Ward spoke softly. “I never told you, but what you said at my mother’s
funeral touched me deeply. I swear, I think you knew the woman better
than I did.”
“She was a class act. Taught me all I ever needed to know about
everything. She deserved a grand sen doff. What I said didn’t come
close by half.”
Ward stared into his glass. “If my stepfather could have only lived
off my family’s inheritance and not tried to play businessman we might
have kept the estate, and he wouldn’t have taken his head off with a
shotgun. But then maybe I wouldn’t have gotten to play senator all
these years if {I’d had a trust fund to blow.”
“If more people played the game the way you do, Rusty, the country
would be far better off.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I appreciate you saying it.”
Buchanan drummed his fingers against the table. “I drove out to the
old place a couple weeks ago.”
Ward looked up, surprised. “Why?”
Buchanan shrugged. “Not really sure. I was close by, I had some time.
It hasn’t changed much. Still beautiful.”
“I haven’t been there since I left for college. Don’t even know who
owns it now.”
“A young couple. I saw the wife and kids through the gate, playing on
the front lawn. Investment banker or Internet mogul, probably. An
idea and ten bucks in his pocket yesterday, a red-hot company and a
hundred million in stock today.”
Ward lifted his glass. “God bless America.”
“If I had had the money back then, your mother wouldn’t have lost that
house.”
“I know that, Danny.”
“But everything happens for a reason, Rusty. Like you said, you might
not have gone into politics. You’ve had a grand career. You’re a
Believer.”
Ward smiled. “Your little classification system has always intrigued
me. You have it all written down somewhere? I’d like to compare it
with my own conclusions about my distinguished colleagues.”
Buchanan tapped his forehead. “It’s all up here.”
“All that gold, stored in one man’s brain. What a pity.”
“You know everything about everybody in this town too.” Buchanan
paused and then added quietly, “So what do you know about me?”
Ward seemed surprised by the question.
“Don’t tell me the world’s greatest lobbyist is having self-doubt? I
thought the book on Daniel J. Buchanan was unshakable confidence,
encyclopedic mind and a keen insight into the psychology of windbag
politicians and their innate weaknesses, which could fill the Pacific,
by the way.”
“Everybody has doubts, Rusty, even people like you and me. That’s why
we last so long. One inch from the edge. Death at any minute if you