Page 35 of Christmas in Watch Hill
The party was already in full swing when I arrived at the address.
The driver dropped me off in front of a large Italianate mansion with leaded windows and immaculate boxwood bushes. A uniformed security team walked me through the home to the large solarium that doubled as a ballroom. A four-piece band played in the corner, and waiters threaded among the well-connected DC crowd with trays of craft cocktails and caviar dollops on wafers. I stopped for a second at the entrance and surveyed it all. Ambassador Santiago had a reputation for throwing some of the best parties in the city, and I could see why.
“Ian, over here.” Alex raised two fingers to catch my attention over the din of conversation. He stood about twenty feet from the doorway and clapped his hand on my shoulder when I arrived at his side. He nodded at the woman standing close to him. “Isabelle, this is Ian, one of my best employees at the firm. Isabelle is on the staff for Senator Owens.”
We shook hands.
“Glad to meet you.” I slipped with ease into the persona I’d perfected for these events. Senator Owens served as majority whip, and I’d been trying to get on his radar for at least the last six months to discuss his support for the food waste management bill our firm had spent most of the year crafting and refining. “I’ve been exchanging emails with the senator’s scheduler, Janet.”
“She’s with him in Oregon right now,” Isabelle said. “The senator is spending the rest of the holiday there but should be back on the fourth.”
“I’m sure he has a lot of work to do with the new class of lawmakers.”
“Thankfully, this was an off year, with only ten senators up for election.” Isabelle widened her eyes as if I should have an implication just from her expression. “I really don’t want to think of how it’s going to be in two years. One of the most important elections of our lives.”
People in DC always said that about every presidential election year. I ignored the twinge of annoyance that came with hearing that sentiment for the umpteenth time.
“That’s why I’m hopeful we can spend time discussing some of our shared interests, particularly when it comes to the environment,” I said instead.
“I’m sure he will make time. He was strict about us not bothering him while he’s back in Eugene, though. Said he wanted some uninterrupted time with his kids.”
Isabelle sipped her champagne, her attention already darting around the room as if she expected to find someone or something of more importance in the crowd behind me. This was one of the things I’d grown to hate about life in the District, a place that so often lived up to its derisive persona as “Hollywood for Ugly People”. Everyone who lived and worked here always seemed to be on a constant search for something better than whatever they were experiencing in the moment.
“Our bill aligns with his interests,” I added. “His platform is centered on lowering carbon impact on the environment, and we are convinced we can help do this by making a few key changes on how our country consumes food grown in the heartland.”
“Great. Can’t wait to hear more about it.” Isabelle’s tone told me she was anything but. “I’m sure he will want hear all about your proposal for reducing our dependence on fossil fuels.”
“The bill is about food waste.” I blinked at her, stunned. “Not fossil fuels.”
She moved her attention back to me. “Of course. Just make sure to talk with Janet. She’s the gatekeeper for the senator.”
“I will,” I promised, revulsion and frustration building inside of me. What was I doing in this city? What was I doing in this job?What am I doing with my life?Before me stretched an endless loop of nights just like this one, scrambling to make this connection or that one, always in pursuit of a goalpost that would never stop moving no matter what I did or how close I got to it. I could do this for twenty-five years, and what would I have to show for it?
Nothing. I would have nothing.
And no one.
“Excuse me,” I said to Isabelle, although I was sure she’d barely notice when I walked away. “I need to make a phone call.”
I walked away as soon as I finished my sentence, making my way across the room and through the party. No amount of glittering expense could hide it—this event was just like every other one I’d attended in the city, and the many that would cross my path if I stayed on this course.
For the first time in years, my life had an obvious different path. One in Ohio. One with Jessica. And one with the baby she said was on the way.
I took a glass of wine from a passing tray and knocked back a large gulp.Interesting idea.It certainly took me out on a limb. After all, I didn’t know Jessica well, and I didn’t consider Watch Hill home. Not many people would trade life in a global city for life in a small suburb in southwestern Ohio.
But maybe there was merit to it. At least there was something real there, something meaningful. Jessica was a shrewd businesswoman and driven to succeed. From what I’d heard, she had already done a lot with the coffee shop in the short time she’d owned it. She didn’t need rescuing, but she could sure use some allies. And of course, I had more than one reason to be by her side. I weaved through the party, talking with this senator and that representative, those thoughts never far from my mind.
By the time I finished my second glass of wine, I knew what I had to do.
