The Fundraiser
Braedon Ramsey pulled onto a side street near the home of the O’Brien’s and parked his Camry within a line of cars, which butted up along the curb. He was wearing a dark blue suit and tie, along with a pair of brown shoes that he’d shined up for the occasion. With his camera gear in hand, he followed a group of attendees to the entrance of the mansion.
Within minutes, Braedon was on the outside deck of the O’Brien home surrounded by Kinnaird supporters at his fundraiser. He spotted the governor, who seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with a stocky, bald man in a black suit, the mayor. Time to get the party started.
“Greetings, my name’s Braedon Ramsey and I’m with the press. Would you mind if I photographed you two for publicity purposes?”
“Not at all,” the governor responded with a warm smile. His slicked-back wavy red hair and Scottish complexion reflected against the setting sun as he towered over the mayor next to him. Both smiled as they adjusted their suits and ties for Braedon’s camera.
Braedon snapped a few photos before shaking their hands.
“Thank you, Governor Kinnaird and Mayor Blackburn. I appreciate this opportunity.” He said as he turned away. Glancing around the room, Braedon looked for other photo opportunities. And Catherine. Still no sight of the latter.
The attendees at the event had each paid $10,000 for a seat at one of the many tables in the deck areas and living areas of the opulent home. They appeared to be wealthy as they mingled with one another in their Armani suits and designer dresses, which far exceeded the price point of his own slightly tattered suit. Braedon assumed many to be the usual sorts of business people who typically funded the governor’s political party.
The governor’s platform was focused on reducing taxes through fewer governmental regulations and oversight. He’d promised to put more money in the hands of the working folks in the population by reducing the expenditures to the entitled and the “handouts” to the impoverished. This stance appealed to Braedon and to Catherine, for different reasons. Braedon was focused on fewer governmental regulations and oversight, while he figured that Catherine was focused on reducing taxes to the wealthy.
The governor wouldn’t get his vote, however. Convicted felons couldn’t vote in Florida without going through an extensive application process. Braedon had no time for that.
He considered the governor’s position as he moved through the home capturing photos of the party guests, whom he assumed were in the highest tax brackets, the uber rich. That’s when he saw Catherine. She was talking to one of the caterers in her kitchen, and she looked radiant in the cream suit and skirt that she wore, which was draped in a stylish black and cream silk scarf. Her matching cream-colored high-heals perfectly accented her outfit, which exuded wealth. As he watched her, he waited for an opportunity to re-introduce himself.
Her son appeared out of the hallway and walked right up to him. Or one could say that he charged him; he appeared to be on a mission.
“Hi, I’m Nick O’Brien. We met before at the luncheon.”
“Well, hi Nick. Yes, I recall meeting you with your mom. This is quite an event,” Braedon said as he noticed Nick looking at his ring finger. Had he seen the ring at the luncheon?
“Yes, it is. My mom likes it that way. So, you support the governor?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Well, my mom and I differ on that one. But that’s okay. I support my mom.”
“Yes, I support your mom as well. I’m glad that she’s hosting this event. Quite a turnout. Should be a boon to the party. And you support his opponent?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I consider myself an independent. I have my causes, which don’t always align with those of either party,” Nick responded.
“I see. Well, it was nice talking to you,” Braedon said as he moved himself away.
“Yeah,” the son said halfheartedly as he moved closer to his mom in the kitchen.
Braedon noticed that Nick was now blocking his access to his mom. And that seemed intentional. It was clear that he must have seen the wedding band at the luncheon. He’d need to buy some time before approaching her again, after his son had moved on.
He turned around and circulated around the party, making small talk with many of the guests and taking numerous photos. The photos were primarily of the governor with his wife and a variety of his constituents, along with photos of people he didn’t know and those who appeared to be in the know. Then it was back to Catherine, who was now standing on the veranda.
“What’s with the kid?” Nick was again in front of him.
“Hi, Nick.”
“Hi.”
“You know, I understand why you consider yourself an independent. I should probably tell you why I support the governor and his party. My late wife always supported him and it’s my little way of carrying that torch. I’m not really a political junkie. I don’t really follow either party, but I want to show support for my deceased wife. She passed away a couple of years ago after a long battle with cancer. I loved her dearly.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. I’m sure things haven’t been easy for you. You have my prayers.”
“Thank you.” Braedon said as he watched Nick walk into another room. The obstacle was now gone.
“Hi, Catherine,” he said as he held out his hand to shake Catherine’s.
“Well, hello. Are you enjoying the fundraiser? We’ve far exceeded estimates. At least half of the crowd more than doubled the $10,000 required for a seat at a table.”
“That’s very impressive indeed! I’ve taken some excellent photos. Would you be interested in meeting with me tomorrow over lunch so that I can show them to you, for your approval prior to publication?”
“Sure, that sounds like a fine plan. Where would you like to meet?”
“How about the Bayfront Restaurant at noon?”
“Done. I’ll add it to my calendar. By some good fortune, I have nothing else on my calendar tomorrow. See you then,” she said as she smiled before turning her attention to one of the caterers.
Braedon smiled back. He’d done what he intended to do, so he packed up his camera and exited the party.