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 onSaturday Night Livewhen 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.
Chapter 30
The traffic into Milwaukee was heavier than they expected. Fletcher suggested they go straight to the restaurant before checking into the hotel.
“The reservations are hard to get. I don’t want to be late, or my mom would be mad.”
Dot was fine with that, and even thought it was nice that he was close with his parents. And that they could get them reservations to nice places and go to Europe for two-week vacations. It certainly wasn’t the way she grew up. They were more of a “Let’s go to our local place for clam chowder” type of family.
Fletcher’s parents were lawyers and had met during the early days of Facebook. As some of Zuck’s first employees, they had made a lot of money and then invested it well. In his college days, his dad had played basketball for Cal Berkeley, and Fletcher had inherited his dad’s height. His mom was the daughter of Mexican immigrants who’d worked the fields in the San Fernando Valley. He’d inherited her slight build, dark eyes, and high cheekbones.
As Mary said, “He definitely won the genetic lottery.”
At seven, they pulled into DanDan, an award-winning Chinese American restaurant on Erie Street. One of the owners had been onTop Chef.
“Perfect timing,” he said, flashing Dot a smile.
They checked in with the maître d’, and as they sat down, their waiter came over.
“What a beautiful couple,” he said.
“Oh, we’re not...” Dot started to say. But Fletcher put his hand on her knee.
“Thank you! She’ll have a Community Effort, and I’ll try the Freddie’s on Fire.” He returned the cocktail menu to the waiter and then turned back to Dot. “I studied the menu last night, so I’d be ready to go.”
She was surprised he ordered for her rather than asking her what she wanted. But it turns out thatiswhat she would have ordered. So, who was she to complain?
“Right away, sir.”
Fletcher looked sheepishly at Dot.