Chapter 29
In late May, Dot and Fletcher headed to Milwaukee for the annual Wisconsin Democrats state convention.
As the election neared, it was clear that Wisconsin was the must-win state for both sides.
Its ten electoral votes could literally be the difference maker for the presidency.
There was a lot on the line, and Kitty Bell wanted For the Win to be up front and center at this meeting.
Since the convention started early on the Saturday morning, Fletcher suggested they go the Friday night before and visit one of the restaurants his parents had told him about.
Dot had never spent time in Milwaukee, so she agreed.
In an instant, she envisioned them together at their table sharing a bottle of wine, her head thrown back in laughter, him looking sharp in open collar and blazer.
“Snap out of it!” she told herself. This is a work dinner, not a date dinner. But still, the image stuck in her mind.
“You’re going to spend the night with Fletcher in Milwaukee?” Mary teased. “You should do something I would do . . . have some fun. He’s gorgeous!”
“I’m not spending the night with him, Mary. We’re going to a work function and leaving the night before because it starts early. That’s all,” she said.
“Oh, okay. Keep telling yourself that.” She threw a piece of popcorn Dot’s way.
Exasperated and blushing, Dot took her beige Madewell trench out of the closet.
“Tell her she’s crazy, Pippi,” Dot said to the dog sitting in Harper’s lap. No owner had ever come forward to claim the little dog, so Harper had kept her. She named her after her favorite character from her childhood bookshelf.
“Pippi,” she said, whenever a passerby asked her name. “As in Longstocking.” Harper had become very attached to the little dog, despite being allergic. She told Mary and Dot that she was getting used to it, but she’d succumbed to taking a heavy dose of Zyrtec every day.
“Mary’s definitely crazy, Dot. How can you leave me here alone with her for two days? We’ll probably end up in jail.”
“That’s the spirit, Harper. It’s about time you got into trouble,” Mary said, raising her Stanley to toast the moment.
“Well, Mary wants to get into trouble so she can have a reason to call Hot Cop Jake,” Dot said.
“Sometimes you have to break the law,” Mary said, looking out the big kitchen window and thinking about it.
A horn honked outside.
“That’ll be Fletcher. Okay, be good girls. See you Sunday.” Dot hugged them both, grabbed her wheelie bag, her backpack, and her light blue Tory Burch tote and headed for the door.
Next stop, Milwaukee.
IN THE CAR, Fletcher and Dot talked shop for a little about how the contest was coming down to the governor of Kentucky versus the young state senator from Georgia.
“Those are two very different visions for the party,” he said.
“Which one do you prefer?” she asked.
“I just want to win.”
Fair enough. So did she. They turned on the Al Franken podcast and listened to the episode about how the Democrats needed to communicate better with younger people.
“How old is Al Franken?” Fletcher said, hitting pause.
Dot searched on her phone for the answer. “Wow, he was on Saturday Night Live when Bill Clinton was president.”
“Exactly. It’s time for some new blood. The older folks need to clear out,” he said.
“I know. Though it seems to be happening more and more. A lot of our candidates are younger this cycle. At least that’s what Kitty said about the House and Senate races this year.”
“Did you see the new Pew poll? Twice as many posts from influencers are still for the Republicans. We’ve got problems.” He started the podcast again without waiting to hear Dot’s opinion.
Dot tried not to be put off by Fletcher’s know-it-all tendencies. The Democrats did need to kick their communications into higher gear, but she believed slow and steady would win the race. She decided to put it out of her mind and just listen as she watched the scenery.
Al Franken kept talking, but Dot’s mind kept drifting to someone else. Danny Dawson.