Director's Cut Read Free

book signing, but after a few episodes of that he decided that he was much happier putting words on a page than signing his name.”
    â€œDon’t get me wrong,” Catherine said. “I enjoy being well known, but it isn’t what drives me. I’m doing the play because I feel like I owe my friends in Santa Rita something and because stage acting is more challenging than movies. When you make a film there is no audience except the crew, and they’re paid to be there. Onstage you can hear the audience and get immediate feedback. There’s nothing like it. Does that make sense?”
    I told her it did, then added, “It’s similar in my world. I hate campaigning. I prefer to be busy with governing rather than running for office. Still, it’s the price I pay for my passion.”
    â€œWe all pay a price,” she said. “Some days are more expensive than others.”
    That sounded heavy with history. I cut my eyes her way, then returned them to the road. I kept silent to allow her time to elaborate but nothing came. There are awkward times when I don’t know whether to push for more information or back away. To do the former could be construed as prying, the latter as being insensitive. I had been with Catherine less than thirty minutes, and even though she was family we had never been close, certainly never confidantes. It wasn’t time to press.
    She broke the silence. “I’m sorry. That sounded heavier than I meant it to. So tell me about the campaign. How’s it going?”
    I changed lanes again. “Not great,” I said. “The general election is less than a month away, and I’m behind in the polls. Not much, but enough to make sleeping difficult.”
    â€œMy mother told me that you won the primary by a big margin.”
    â€œShe heard that all the way up in Boise, did she?”
    â€œYour mother is proud of you,” Catherine said. “She calls my mom and talks about you, and then my mother talks about me.”
    â€œWhere would we be without mothers?”
    â€œSomeone has to start the fan clubs.”
    I smiled at that. “Well, your mother was right. When they counted the votes, I was the Republican nominee for the vacant house seat, and Robert Till has gone back to being a county supervisor.”
    â€œSo now you’re running against the Democratic contender?”
    â€œGarret Kinsley. He’s a powerhouse. Well funded, heartthrob handsome, educated, and a dynamite speaker. He served as ambassador to Argentina. He’s a well-tanned Adonis with brains and has a political organization some consider the best in Southern California. He demolished Assemblywoman Wilma Easton in the primaries. Her political life is in a coma. I may be next.”
    â€œHow big is the gap in the polls?”
    I was impressed with the question. Catherine was more politically savvy than most people. “The Santa Rita Register did a poll last week. Kinsley leads me by 6 percent.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound like much,” Catherine said.
    â€œIt’s huge this late in the game. My campaign manager thinks the poll is flawed and badly constructed, but I think she’s just trying to keep my spirits up.”
    â€œYou’re not giving in, are you?”
    â€œNo way. I’m committed to the goal. It’s not over until the votes are cast.”
    â€œCan I do anything?”
    I hadn’t expected that. “I appreciate the offer.”
    â€œI’ll do anything I can to help. Does your campaign need funds? I want to contribute. Money’s not a problem.”
    â€œThere are limits on how much an individual can contribute to a candidate, but every little bit helps. We’re having one last fundraiser to raise money for television time and one more direct mail.”
    â€œMaybe I could come to that. Would that help?”
    I paused. “Yes, it might, but I don’t want you to think