For the Record (Record #3)(67)
Liz smiled brightly. It was almost as if she were hearing her own words being spoken back to her. Her feature piece had been on this very subject, and it was encouraging to hear that someone else had similar ideas. “I completely agree,” she said, speaking up. “How do you expect professors to teach students critical thinking when they’ve only been taught memorization and how to take the test? You can’t. We need to be treating these students as more than just machines. They should be learning and experiencing subject matter, not plodding away, only able to recall what they had learned for their last exam. My father is a professor, and he always attempted to explain to me how the subject matter had a practical application, which assisted in cognitive reasoning skills. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“This is exactly the kind of forward thinking we need,” the woman’s husband said, tapping the table enthusiastically.
Brady found her hand under the table and squeezed gently. She smiled back at him softly just as dinner arrived. Brady had prime rib. Liz had decided on a braised chicken. She saw that Chelsea had just ordered a salad and was barely picking at it. They resumed the conversation as people began to eat their meals.
“You know, I recently started following this columnist and I think you would love him,” the woman said, pulling her phone out of her purse.
“Oh, really?” Liz asked enthusiastically. She was always looking for new people to follow.
“Yes! He hasn’t written much, but his pieces really strike a chord in the current debate. I was lucky that I caught his first piece quoted in the Post.”
Liz’s heart leaped into her throat. No . . . that was just a coincidence. Tons of people were quoted in the Post.
“Here we are. Oh, well he doesn’t list his name now that I’m looking for it, but he goes by Dear Congress.”
All of the air whooshed out of Liz’s lungs at once. She felt Brady’s hold on her tighten. He knew about her secret identity and she was sure he was listening very closely now. Neither of them wanted to be found out just yet. It was taxing knowing that she couldn’t reveal herself as this mysterious person, but at the same time exhilarating that her words were making a difference, they were being heard, and she had a voice once again.
“Dear Congress,” Brady said with a chuckle. “Sounds like someone I should start paying closer attention to.”
“You really should. He might help you with that bill you’re working on.”
“I’ll brush up on him—or her—when I get home, Barbara.”
Liz bit her lip and tried to keep from giggling. She knew that she shouldn’t think it funny, but it still was to her. If she was penetrating the reading circles of elite politicians, then it could only mean good things.
The conversation turned to lighter subjects and soon dinner was cleared away. The keynote speaker was a prominent North Carolina activist named Harold Carmine, who gave a charming speech centered around the bipartisan nature of the occasion and advocating compromise in the current divided times.
Carmine finished up his speech, the lights dimmed, and music started playing through the speakers. This was the beginning of the real party, where everyone could mingle and dance. Last time Liz had made it as far as the dessert table for Oreo cheesecake when Brady had swept her into a dance. This time she was looking forward to that dance, even if she still wasn’t that great a dancer.
Brady placed his hand on the small of her back and leaned into her when they stood. “I have to meet with Chelsea for a bit. Will you go with Barbara? She likes you.”
Liz laughed and nodded. “All right. Save me a dance.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You want to dance with me?”
“I think I do every night,” she whispered.
“That is a very different kind of dancing.”
“And I’m much better at it.”
“I’ll have you prove that to me later,” he said, squeezing her arm and then following Chelsea over to a now-empty table.
Liz followed Barbara over to another group of women and listened to them chatter among themselves. It was clear that they had all known one another for some time. Liz was introduced to several of the women and then conversation resumed. After a few pleasantries, the women started talking about some event they had all attended. Since Liz obviously hadn’t been there she found herself tuning the conversation out and just smiling and nodding at the right points.
Her eyes found Brady across the room. He and Chelsea’s postures were incredibly comfortable. She was leaning forward as she spoke animatedly about what Liz could only assume was the environmental policy. Brady had his leg crossed at his ankle and the man managed to make it look damn sexy in a tux. Brady shook his head at whatever she had been saying and splayed his hands out in front of him. She could see him stiffen, as if he were trying to get her to see his point and she was resisting.
There was something about Chelsea that Liz couldn’t put her finger on. Despite the physical differences between the women, Liz thought that Chelsea was a lot like Heather: always working, headstrong, and ambitious. Chelsea might be short, thin, and have a sort of reserved elegance in her features, but she still seemed just as hard and calculated as Heather.
Liz shook her head and turned her attention back to the conversation at hand. The women were discussing charity work, which she had always had an interest in.