The Longer The Fall by Aviva Gat (tharntype novel english .TXT) 📕

in Madeline’s life, Brandon was the first person she consulted. They made decisions together; it was one of the most important things in their partnership, one of the things that made their marriage work.

When they first met, it was as though they were destined to be together, betrothed by their elders, brought together by forces greater than themselves. Some could say it was almost an arranged marriage, if that sort of thing still happened. Madeline remembered the first time she heard the name Brandon Thomas. She had just been elected Chairman of the New York Young Republican National Federation. She had become involved in the youth organization after graduating from Columbia where she had been president of the College Republican National Committee Club. It was only logical that she would continue her support of the party in the YRNF. Three years out of college and she had won her first election to be the organization’s New York Chairman.

One of the first orders of business as Chairman was a congratulatory dinner with the local GOP leaders. During what was most definitely the most expensive meal she had ever eaten up to that point in her life, she listened to stories from her elders discussing the different conventions to attend and the behind-the-scenes fun in which she would eventually partake. They told her stories of doing keg stands with George W. at the White House and about the affairs between senators that surely helped them pass the most controversial bills. Madeline joked around with the table of older, white men, who had all remained respectively flirty throughout the night. Then out of nowhere, one of the men said, “You know who Madeline has to meet?” The question was addressed more to the table than to Madeline herself. The table quieted and looked at the man who had asked the question. “Brandon Thomas!” His exclamation was met with enthusiastic confirmations all around. How did I not think of that? What a great idea! How is it possible you haven’t met yet!? They must meet as soon as possible! You two would just get along perfectly! Should I call his parents? Get him on a flight over here now? Madeline had tried to ask who Brandon Thomas was and why it suddenly seemed imperative that she meet him. All she got was that he was her counterpart in California, leading the YRNF on the country’s other coast. Surely Madeline had many counterparts she should meet. In fact there were at least 49 other state chairmen for the YRNF, but none of the others were mentioned. The only important one was Brandon, leading a YRNF chapter in one of the country’s most democratic states. After that dinner, Brandon did not take a flight straight over to New York to meet Madeline, but his name kept popping up wherever Madeline would go.

At a fundraiser to help New York Republicans running for Congress—a lost cause that still received wide support mostly due to Madeline’s planning of an extravagant event—someone mentioned that her idea for tax reform reminded them very much of what Brandon Thomas had told them at a different event earlier that year. And Brandon Thomas certainly understands tax reform, he recently founded that new software company that will revolutionize the way corporations secure their financials. Such a smart young man! At a networking event for young Republicans on Wall Street, someone mentioned drinking wine at the Thomas vineyard with young Brandon. He’s so articulate and ambitious, much like yourself! The following year, when Madeline had shown up without a date to the YRNF Christmas party, someone had asked her why she still hadn’t met Brandon Thomas. You two would be an unstoppable force! A power couple that could accomplish even the impossible. She nodded politely, not mentioning that she wasn’t looking for the other half of her power couple.

At that point, Madeline had begun getting sick of the name Brandon Thomas. Everyone seemed to know who he was and everyone had something good to say about him. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was a prophet from above, rather than the California Chairman of the YRNF. Whenever his name was mentioned, she just smiled and tried to stop her eyes from rolling before quickly changing the conversation.

That all changed when she finally met Brandon Thomas. The next year at the National Convention of Young Republicans she came face to face with the spirit who had seemed to follow her everywhere over the last couple of years. It happened at the opening cocktail hour, when many of the convention guests were still arriving, but those with stamina and ambition were already there, working the floor. She saw Brandon Thomas across the room and knew it was him without ever having seen a picture. He was tall, with broad open shoulders that looked inviting and strong. His lips were permanently curved up, as though his natural expression included a warm smile. His brown hair was perfect styled, parted on the side and brushed back. He held a glass in his right hand, which he periodically brought to his lips, taking the tiniest sips, to give the illusion that he was drinking while he nursed the same cocktail throughout the night. Madeline recognized this trick, as it was something she too would do at these events. No one likes to mingle with someone who doesn’t drink, but in the presence of people who could make or crush her career, Madeline would never get drunk.

Brandon had caught her staring at him and his already curved lips arched a little more. As he walked over to her, Madeline took a fake sip of her own drink—a gin and tonic that was already watered down from the melted ice.

“Brandon Thomas,” he introduced himself, sticking his hand out to shake Madeline’s. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Madeline Clark,” she responded, giving his hand a firm shake.

“You’re Madeline Clark?” He gasped.