Newport - Summer of '22 Book III - 4. Golf & Nuptials

Before the window was entirely down, Paul wedged himself partway through the opening. “Jesus Fucking Christ. What the hell are you wearing?” David had stopped in front of The Chanler and popped the rear hatch for CJ and Owen.

CJ grinned and looked at his feet. “They’re called sliders. I’ve got shoes in the bag.” The clubs rattled when he picked up the aforementioned case and headed for the open back.

“God, you’re a dick.” Paul stuck his head back inside the SUV when CJ walked past him. “That’s not what I was asking about!”

Owen climbed in the rear seat while CJ wrangled his bag in the vehicle. “G’day, mate.” He bumped fists with the brothers. “I’ll assume you’re talking about my husband’s choice of pants.”

“Damn right I am. You allow him out of the house dressed like that?” Paul rolled his eyes when CJ joined Owen and slammed the door closed.

“He’s a grown man.” Owen sounded resigned to living with CJ’s antics. “He can wear whatever he wants.”

“Yeah… You better say that. Unless you want me to give you shit for wearing a skirt tonight.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “You’re wearing a kilt to the wedding?”

“I brought the kilt and also brought pants. Haven’t decided yet what I’m wearing.” Owen glanced at CJ and raised the middle finger of his right hand. “And how are you going to give me shit exactly? If I recall correctly, you’ve loved wearing yours.”

David spoke for the first time. “Go with the kilt. I mean, everyone’s gonna be looking at you guys anyway.”

“The kilt’s fine, but I’d rather talk about CJ’s pants.” Paul unclipped his seat belt, turned, and knelt on the seat facing the back. “Donuts? You have embroidered donuts all over your pants? Glazed donuts, donuts covered in chocolate, donuts covered in sugar, donuts covered in sprinkles… Who’s the designer? Homer Simpson?”

CJ vigorously nodded. “Aren’t they sick? Dave, what do you mean everyone’s gonna be looking at us tonight?”

“Duh! Two nights ago, you bagged a right winger. A good-sized one too. And last night, you annihilated our liberal sister. Two for two’s a pretty darn good batting average.”

“Hey! I was nice to your sister.”

“Yes, you were, but you spoke to her like we’re unable to. She would have stormed off if we said even a fraction of what you did. I can’t believe she sat there and took it.”

“It’s his charming personality. He weaves a spell, and people are enthralled.”

“Fuck you, Oz. You ain’t getting any tonight.”

The four men cracked up.

Turning around, Paul sat properly and secured his seat belt. “So, the reason we called and said we’d pick you up’s ’cause Dad asked us to. He didn’t want you guys to be surprised.”

“Surprised how?” Owen sounded as wary as CJ felt.

“About the threesomes at the golf course.” Paul stretched and gave CJ a sympathetic look. “Sorry, CJ. You’re stuck playing with Dad and his friend, Lloyd.”

“The fuck?” CJ was shocked. “No way, man. I don’t mind embarrassing myself in front of you, but your dad and a buddy of his? Nope. Not happening. Does he know I only started playing this year? I’ve been on a course less than a dozen times, and last one was in Mexico before that shit went down. This is a joke. Right? You’re pulling my leg.” Pausing, he realized everyone was staring at him. Even David, thanks to the red light. “What?”

Owen shrugged. “I was just waiting for you to run out of steam so I could ask Paul the obvious question.”

“Oh yeah? And what might that question be, Einstein?”

Owen stuck his tongue out at CJ. “Why, Paul? Why does your dad want CJ to play with him?”

“That’s easy.” David was the one to reply. “But let me calm CJ first. The tournament this morning’s only nine holes, and we’re playing best ball. If your shots suck, it won’t matter. As for Dad’s reason? He wants Lloyd to meet you.”

“Why? And who’s Lloyd?”

“Lloyd Austin. You may have heard of him?”

“The Secretary of Defense?” CJ pulled the brim of the Hoyas bucket hat over his eyes and shrank into the seat. “Fuck me. I’m gonna have to behave.”

 

“Nice slacks, Mr. Abelló.” A grinning Lloyd Austin shook CJ’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Secretary.” CJ turned to face the other member of the threesome. “Sam, did your sons explain I don’t know how to play this game?”

“They mentioned you’re a rookie. When was the last time you played?”

“Mid-May.”

“In Mexico?

“Yep.” CJ had no idea why that mattered.

“Decent course?”

“Yeah. Owen and I were guests at a friend’s country club.”

Secretary Austin raised a finger to interrupt Sam’s next comment. “Someone from the embassy? Maybe I know them.”

“Not our embassy, sir. We were guests of the British ambassador and his wife.”

Austin appeared impressed and glanced at a grinning Sam. “You may be right.”

CJ had had enough. “Okay, gentlemen, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but what’s going on?"

Sam grinned. “Why don’t we tee off before we fill you in? We can talk once we move away from the others. Lloyd? Would you start us off?”

While the Secretary of Defense teed off, Sam stood at CJ’s side. “How did you meet the ambassador? Was it at an embassy function?”

“Nope. Owen played in an ex-pat rugby league while we were down there. A teammate and his wife invited us to dinner at their home, and Sir Kent and Lady Dorothy were there. That was before he was knighted and became ambassador.”

“Interesting. Go ahead and hit.”

Although CJ’s ball traveled down the middle of the fairway, it landed short of Secretary Austin’s.

He nodded when CJ returned to his side, and Sam took a driver out of his bag. “Did I hear you met the British Ambassador at a dinner party?”

“Yes, sir. A small gathering. Sir Kent and I hit it off when we both objected to another guest’s claim competition in sports should not take precedence over simple participation.”

“I would have disagreed with that individual too. Was that when the Brit invited you to play golf?”

“No, sir. That happened later. We were at an Australia Day celebration at the Aussie embassy when he suggested I take lessons and offered to put me in touch with the pro at his club.”

“I think I beat both of you. Let’s get moving.” Sam stuck the club in his bag and sat behind the wheel of the four-person cart.

In the front passenger seat, Secretary Austin turned to look at CJ. “Sam called me yesterday and asked if I knew you. I told him I didn’t. He mentioned a few salient points, including your recent visit to the White House, so I called Ron Klein to inquire about you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah… I’m getting used to people talking about me behind my back.” The comment elicited chuckles from Sam and Secretary Austin.

Sam slowed sufficiently for CJ and Lloyd to lean out and retrieve their balls when he drove past them. He came to a stop next to his. “Let’s hit. Since we’re the first threesome, I don’t want to hold everyone else up.”

CJ and Secretary Austin dropped their balls next to Sam’s. Once all three had hit again, their conversation resumed while Sam repeated the process of collecting the short ones.

“I’ve only met the Chief of Staff once; not sure how much he could have told you, Mr. Secretary.”

“Plenty. You and your husband charmed Mexico City’s elite by spearheading a charitable project. The two of you were instrumental in a Russian spy defecting. And your daughter’s rescue proved you’re more than a paper pusher. He sent me links to articles, and I read on the flight over.” Lloyd’s smile was mischievous. “Whoever handles your public relations’ doing a bang-up job.”

“Yeah, well, luck’s played a huge part in anything I may have accomplished.”

“Keep telling yourself that, CJ.” A chuckling, Sam slowed down and stopped next to the ball closest to the first green. “We may not break par, but we’re doing well so far. Go for it, CJ.”

While preparing to hit his ball, CJ overheard Sam ask the Secretary to share the list Klein had sent in case he had missed reading something. “He’s been at it for a while, Lloyd. The stuff in Mexico’s simply the latest. Did you read how he wound up an Oscar winner?”

On the way to the green, CJ gave the Secretary a bullet-point summary of the documentary he had been a producer for. Secretary Austin apologized for not having seen it, and CJ promised to send him a copy.

Putting was one area of his game CJ was not ashamed of. The fact he frequently practiced on carpeting helped, but he knew he had to learn how to read greens better.

“You asked us what was going on earlier, CJ. Before Sam discusses that, let me tell you Klein spoke highly of you. He also mentioned your plans to return to school for an advanced degree, but that you could have your pick of government agency positions and private sector jobs.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. But as I told President Biden and Mr. Klein, based on my age and experience, most of those positions would be entry-level. I’d like to have a stronger resumé so I don’t wind up approving or rejecting visa applications again.”

CJ pulled his second tee shot, and the ball landed in shrubbery along the fairway. They did not bother to look for it. “Not worth wasting time searching,” Sam said. “Let me ask you something. What do you know about Parker Electronics?”

“Not much. I’m aware it’s privately held, and you manufacture components for military applications and electric vehicles.”

“That’s good enough for now. The reason I wanted you to meet Lloyd, and why he inquired about you, is I want to discuss some things with you that, although not secret, are not entirely public knowledge.”

The conversation flowed and ebbed with every stop over the subsequent holes. Sam did most of the talking, and CJ received a sketch on how vital Parker Electronics’ components were to missile guidance systems.

“We’re confident Congress will pass a bill supporting investment in semiconductor manufacturing this summer,” Sam spoke while Lloyd putted. “Aside from the importance to military contractors like us, giving us capacity for increased production, the hope’s to reduce the country’s reliance on China for those silicon wafers. They’re already mumbling about us trying to cut them out of the EV supply chain.”

“Are we?”

‘I sure as fuck hope so. Although Russia’s unpredictable, the Chinese pose as big a threat. They might be even more dangerous.” Secretary Austin’s colorful language made CJ grin. “We’re talking national security, CJ.”

“I understand, Mr. Secretary. But I’m still wondering why I’m having this conversation with the two of you.”

“Because I want to offer you a job.” Sam turned to see CJ’s reaction and found his mouth and eyes wide open. “Close your mouth unless you want to catch bugs.”

Lloyd’s laughter was a rich baritone. “That’s one way to surprise anyone, Sam. Maybe explain a bit more?”

“I know you want to go back to school, and we would not have a problem with that. Dave told you he’s moving to D.C., where he’ll eventually head up our government relations department. I think you’d be ideal to work with him. You’re obviously intelligent. You’re also personable, outgoing, and well-spoken. The fact the British ambassador took an interest in you, a greenhorn, tells me he also saw something in you. And based on Lloyd’s digging, we’re both sure getting you the necessary clearance would be easy.”

CJ hesitated. He knew what he wanted to do, so the decision would not be difficult. But he was flattered. “I’m not sure what to say.”

Sam chuckled. “You should probably not say anything until you talk to Owen. I’ve been told he’s the only one who carries any influence with you.”

“Fake news!” CJ resorted to humor as a way of coping. “Our daughter has more pull.”

“Look, Carlos and Lloyd have been friends of mine for a while. Long before they were appointed to their current positions. I trust them and asked their opinions about your suitability. Were you to accept, you’d end up interacting with military personnel regularly. I had to make sure you’d fit in.” Sam paused momentarily. “If you want to discuss it further, we can talk timing, responsibilities, and compensation.” His tone had shifted from jocular to serious. “I don’t have all the details right now; the job offer’s not something I even thought of until I saw you take down Jay Fanning.”

“That would have been interesting to watch.” Lloyd shrugged. “Not the politics, but what I was told were logical, well-phrased arguments from you.”

“You should have heard him last night, Lloyd. He politely told my daughter she was full of shit and her liberal crap didn’t pass the smell test.”

“Hey! That’s not true. I offered my thoughts to counter what I thought was a lack of clarity in hers.”

Sam cracked up. “See, Lloyd? Even when he calls me a liar, he does it so nicely that he gets away with it.”

CJ smiled, realizing he had indeed called Mr. Parker a liar. Politely, but he had done it.

“Anyway, after Jay’s stupidity in challenging you and the way you reacted, I thought you might fit in with us. I talked to David and Paul and afterward decided to offer you the job. They have no idea that’s why I wanted to play with you.

“There’s minutia to consider, but I could see you spending a short time in Rhode Island to work those details out and familiarize yourself with the company. Then you’d be based out of Washington.”

Their threesome did not win. On the way to the nineteenth hole, Secretary Austin grasped CJ’s arm. “I told Sam I needed to talk to you privately.”

CJ stopped, allowing everyone else to move inside. He assumed his apprehension was visible on his face.

Lloyd smiled. “Nothing too serious. When I called Ron, he sounded a little too happy you and I would be at the same wedding this weekend. I found out why. You’re a popular man, CJ. Sam may want to hire you, but I discovered you’re in the middle of geopolitical events I had no idea you were. Anyway, Ron ended the conversation by asking me to pass a message from President Biden.”

“To me?” A little too late, CJ realized it was a stupid question, but his brain was apparently not working.

“Yeah, you. The president would appreciate it if you’d talk to your CIA friend and listen to what he has to say.”

 

CJ found Owen, recounted the conversation highlights, and both went in search of Jake. They did not give him a chance to decline their invitation to lunch and had the CIA agent ride with them back to The Chanler.

“We were serious when we said we didn’t want to be involved in any of your shit, Jake. Why do you have to drag us into more?”

“Don’t blame me.” Jake grinned and pointed at Owen. “It’s his fault.”

Knowing their conversation might cover delicate matters, CJ asked for an outside table as far away from other diners as possible. They were seated in a corner with empty tables around them and a glorious view of the water. Conveniently, The Café at The Chanler was not overly crowded.

Billing itself as a sophisticated, waterfront, culinary destination, the restaurant overlooked Cliff Walk and offered views of Easton's Bay. According to the blurb CJ read, The Café featured contemporary dishes inspired by European cuisine and sustainable New England ingredients.

“I like you less whenever we spend time together, Spike. Why is it my fault you’re hounding us again?”

Jake chuckled. “Hounding?”

“Yeah…” CJ opened the menu to glance at the offerings. The chitarra—prepared with George’s Bank scallops, truffle, and Meyer lemon—caught his eye. “I’m still wondering how you managed to sic President Biden on us.”

“Not my call, guys. After you declined my offer to meet in D.C. before you left for Cuba, I reported it to my boss. My guess? This is important to higher-ups, and he reached out to the White House. Did Biden call you?”

Owen precluded CJ from replying by speaking up first. “What’s so important, Spike? And why is it my fault you came after us?”

The conversation stopped while the server took their order. Owen ordered The Chanler Burger—it came topped with a bacon-onion marmalade and ale house cheddar—requesting the optional Australian black truffle. Jake went for the Chilled Newport Lobster Salad—chunks of lobster served atop gem lettuce, with applewood bacon, peppers, and a rose vinaigrette.

“It’s your fault because you agreed to the Cuba trip, Ozzie.” Jake sighed and scanned the surrounding tables—they remained empty. “I would have told you all this if you had agreed to a meet in Washington, but I’ve been ordered to come clean this weekend.” A smirk played on the agent’s face when he stared at his companions. “The Cuban government asked the Nature Conservancy to include Ozzie in their delegation. And they suggested that CJ be invited as a guest. Of course, the Conservancy notified the governemnt before they filed the necessary documents for the trip.”

“The fuck?” CJ slammed both hands on the table and rose halfway out of his seat.

Owen placed a hand atop one of CJ’s in an apparent effort to calm him. “Down, Ceej. Spike, care to explain?”

Jake gave him a slight nod. “I’m required to remind you that those papers you previously signed concerning secrecy are still valid. The remainder of this conversation falls under the purview of said documents.”

“That was your official, secret agent voice, Spike.” CJ cracked up, and Owen battled his chuckles.

“Fuck you, CJ. Okay, over the past few months, we’ve heard chatter that leads us to believe the Cuban government’s interested in making changes. Possibly big ones. Hell, their new family law proposal includes legalization of same-sex marriage.”

CJ had not heard about that particular development. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope, they’re putting it to a vote this summer, and they’re lobbying the population hard for it to pass. We’re fairly confident it will. Anyway, following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the noise increased. Some analysts believe the Cubans realize Putin will not win and are considering cutting all remaining ties. Russia will be weakened when this is all over.”

CJ nodded. “I can see that. I mean, even without access to whatever you guys have heard, I can see Cuba, at last, realizing we’re better as imperfect friends than as rabid foes. The Castro aura has dimmed a bit. Russia's on its way to being a second-rate state again, and the Chinese are too damn sneaky. If the Cuban regime doesn’t do something to appease the population, they may face increased demonstrations. So, why do Owen and I feature in their plans?”

Spike leaned back in his chair and slowly nodded. “Not bad, Abelló. Not bad at all. Want me to get you clearance so you can see the underlying—”

“No!” The simultaneous response made Jake throw his arms up in a sign of surrender.

“Okay, back to why the two of you. As far as we can tell, their interest in meeting with the Nature Conservancy’s real. We strongly suspect they’d like to emulate Costa Rica’s success with eco-tourism. Ozzie’s been involved in setting up reserves and conservation easements, is fluent in Spanish, and is conveniently married to a young Cuban-American who has the ear of the president. The fact you guys are gay plays well into their efforts too.”

“Fuck that. I don’t have anyone’s ear.”

“Maybe you don’t, but then again, maybe you do. The way the White House paraded the two of you and Liebe on camera could give people ideas.”

“Fuck me!”

The conversation paused while their meals were delivered, and the server refilled their glasses. All three had ordered homemade lemonade, aware there would be abundant alcohol that evening. Jake resumed when they were alone again.

“We have no proof of this, but we suspect they want to use CJ as a back door channel to get a message to somebody. Either the White House directly or the State Department.”

CJ glanced at Owen and shrugged. “This shit’s starting sooner than I thought it would, Oz.”

“What shit?” Jake looked highly interested in what CJ said.

“The publicity, Jake. The publicity. While in Mexico, we stumbled into media attention without trying to. As I mentioned, I plan to write a book about our experience, and there’s that chance it could be optioned for a movie. We figured there would be frequent interview requests and media appearances, but we hoped to put them off for a bit. Maybe until after the twins are born. Guess we better get our shit together now.”

Jake knowingly nodded. “I think you’re right. And you have some decisions to make right now. Starting with whether you’ll be going to Cuba at all.”

CJ shrugged and stared at Owen. “Your call, Oz. I may not be entirely happy with the developments, but I suspect the Cubans won’t be the last to pull this kind of shit.”

“Fuck it!” Owen grinned and patted CJ’s hand. “We’re going.”

 

The Breakers, built between 1893 and 1895 as a summer residence for Cornelius Vanderbilt II, was a seventy-room Renaissance Revival mansion. Added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1971, it was owned by the Newport Preservation Society and operated as a museum. The society maintained the property and supervised tours and events—weddings were frequent.

“I do.” Paul’s grin matched Molly’s. The two had faced each other, holding hands while reciting their vows.

The two photographers, the ground-based videographer, and the drone operated by another one all converged on the bride and groom, capturing images from multiple angles.

“Then, by the power vested in me and in the name of Jesus Christ, I pronounce you married.” The elderly priest had known Molly since birth and offered the couple a warm smile. “You may kiss your spouse.”

CJ thought the torrid smooch was way more than the priest anticipated. The newlyweds finally pulled apart when the man coughed. Both looked a bit sheepish.

The ceremony, held outdoors under pastel-colored skies before sunset, had been mercifully short. CJ thought the setting was idyllic. Earlier, puffy clouds dotted the azure sky suggesting rain, but they had dissipated. The temperature was comfortable, and he wished they could remain in the gardens.

The reception would span indoor and outdoor spaces, but dinner and dancing would be in the opulent mansion’s great hall.

 

After scanning the premium liquors offered, Owen turned to CJ and shrugged. “No Bombay”—Bombay Sapphire was their preferred gin for martinis—“but they have Aviation.”

“The Ryan Reynolds stuff? Get us a little taste first but let’s try it. I already like the bottle it comes in.” It came in a ridged, clear glass container with obvious Art Deco influences.

“You’re such a wanker.” Owen turned to the bartender and ordered a shot glass with gin and two martinis, straight up, with olives.

An American dry gin distilled in Portland, Oregon; Aviation was partly owned by Canadian-American actor Ryan Reynolds, and his social media posts about it were hilarious. Owen replicated the tasting steps he followed with wine, smacked his lips, and passed the small glass to CJ.

“Well?” CJ’s palate was not as discerning as his husband’s, so he trusted Owen’s opinion.

“Not bad. A bit more juniper-forward than our usual, it comes through strongly on the nose. Along with lavender and earthy spice.”

CJ nodded after smelling it.

“Not as lemony as Bombay, the spice flourishes are more pronounced. The palate hints at cinnamon and cardamom. I like it. Probably good for dirty martinis. The olive juice would balance the floral notes well.”

Wetting his lips with the liquid, CJ again nodded. “We’ll need to add it to Everhope’s bar.” He turned around when someone tapped his shoulder.

“CJ, Owen, the men I was hoping to run into.” Lloyd Austin stood behind them with someone CJ immediately recognized.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Secretary.” CJ grinned while shaking the man’s hand. “We followed your recommendation and spoke to our friend this afternoon.” Turning to Austin’s companion, CJ again extended his hand. “CJ Abelló, Mr. Secretary. And this is my husband, Owen Liston. Oz, this is Secretary of the Air Force, Frank Kendall.”

Kendall appeared shocked. “I’m surprised you know who I am, CJ. Most people wouldn’t have a clue.”

Owen grinned while handing CJ his cocktail. “Most people don’t have an Academy C2C as a brother, Mr. Secretary. CJ read up on you when you were nominated. And I heard all about it.”

Recognition sparked on Secretary Kendall’s face. “Based on what Lloyd mentioned about you when he said he wanted me to meet you, I’ll assume you’re the reason the graduation speaker rotation at the Academy was altered.”

“Oh, no.” CJ vigorously shook his head. “You’re not pinning that one on me. My brother may have mentioned something about it when President Biden called us earlier this month, but I had nothing to do with it.”

While decompressing in Key West after the Mexico City incident, President Biden had called CJ and Owen. When informed CJ’s brother, a cadet at the Air Force Academy, was with them, the President spoke to Ritch and suggested he might be able to address his graduating class. Speakers usually rotated on a four-year cycle with a different one every year.

“Lloyd filled me in on your Mexican adventure. I was impressed with how well you handled the situation. I’m guessing your brother joined you afterward, and that’s when you all spoke with President Biden?”

“We were together for a few days, sir. He’s back in Colorado Springs now. Ritch called us before leaving our place in Vail, all excited because he can, at last, have a car on campus.” Air Force Academy cadets were not allowed to keep vehicles on campus until the beginning of their third year.

The conversation was another subtle pitch for CJ to consider joining Parker Electronics. Secretary Kendall, as Secretaries del Toro and Austin had previously done, extolled the company and stressed how vital the components it manufactured were to the military.

 

CJ and Owen were glad to get away from the somewhat serious conversation and join a group of boisterous Hoya ex-rowers. The younger ones, in particular, remembered CJ from school. He had been involved with the athletic department as a tutor and recruiter. That group, with Carson and Jake in the mix, sat to dinner together and managed to be the most raucous table.

During his toast, Dave Parker pointed them out, disavowed them, and singled out CJ as the ring leader. He revealed the groom’s classmate had absconded with a sailboat the day before, but the attorney showing lots of leg under his skirt had smoothed everything out.

The reference to the stolen boat made the entire table stand, applaud, and holler while CJ bowed and waved. Alcohol consumption among the group had been significant.

“It’s a kilt, you Yank!” Owen shouted at the mention of a skirt. He did stand and twirl.

 

“HEY!” Owen jumped and turned around at the same time he shouted. Someone had lifted the back of his kilt.

“Commando?” Logan Fanning’s grin could not have been larger when he spoke to his wife.

She mirrored his amused expression while shrugging. “Couldn’t see.”

“Try to keep your distance anyway.” When she chuckled, his glance shifted between CJ and Owen. “We want to cut in. And you get me”—he pointed at CJ—“since Erin’s been ogling your husband’s legs all night.”

The cover band was good. The group alternated genres and periods to please the broadest range of tastes. When Logan and Erin cut in, the singer was a verse into All-4-One’s "I Swear."

“Screw it. I may step all over you, but you lead.” Logan and CJ had fumbled around while trying to grasp each other's hands. “Everyone’s probably staring at me right now.”

CJ chuckled while glancing at the other guests on the dance floor. “A fair number are. Welcome to the club. So, what brought this on?”

“You mean aside from the fact every woman in the place’s drooling over your husband? Erin wanted a closer look at Owen, and I wanted to talk to you. Preferably in full view of all the guests, so they realize there’s no animosity between us.”

“I’ll have to remember this trick next time I want to upstage a groom.”

“Hush. From what my sister and brother-in-law mentioned, you attract plenty of attention already. Seriously, CJ, I want to apologize for my dad’s behavior. We’re all sorry you had to put up with his crap.”

“Thanks for the thought, but an apology’s really not needed. Your mom heard the same thing from me yesterday. I mean, your dad was drunk, I’d been warned about his possible antagonism, and I still allowed my temper to flare up. I should be the one apologizing.”

“That’s bullshit. Yes, dad often drinks too much, but that wasn’t alcohol. The incident at the rehearsal dinner was the hair that broke the camel’s back; Mom’s been ready for them to go their separate ways for a while. His behavior cemented her decision.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Man, you can ask anything. In a word, politics. The Fannings, like the Parkers, are part of a dying breed—the moderate New England Republican. I can’t speak for Paul and his family, but we all voted for Trump in 2016. Even though we knew his chances of carrying Rhode Island were minimal.”

“And yet, he won the election.”

Logan nodded and grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that. Paul said you worked for Clinton’s campaign while the two of you were at Georgetown.”

“I did some campaigning for her, received good feedback, and ended up doing more than I would have ever imagined. It was an incredible experience. Did you also support Trump in twenty?”

“Oh, hell no. Most of the family quietly voted for Biden, not wanting to get into arguments with Dad. We didn’t realize it at the time, but his slide had already begun.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father’s brilliant, CJ. Well, maybe was would be a better way of saying that. He was nationally recognized as a criminal defense attorney. But he caught the same illness Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powel, and so many others were infected with. The election denier virus. There was no reasoning with him after Trump lost. We tried to give him space, but it felt as if he ranted and raved twenty-four-seven. Mom moved into a separate bedroom, I barely visited, and Molly ignored him and anything he said.”

Entranced by the conversation, CJ had stopped moving. He and Logan stood still, holding each other, until the change to a fast number brought them back from their private world.

“Wanna get a drink?” Logan glanced at his wife and Owen and shook his head. “She’ll keep him out here as long as she can. I’m not big on dancing, and your husband seems to be pretty good.”

CJ chuckled. “For a white boy, he ain’t bad. Of course, my grandparents did teach him how to move his hips once he got to the U.S. Come on, let’s go get that drink. Your sister mentioned you’re considering running for office, and I want to hear all about it.”