Page 25 of The Light Year

The Senatorial campaignkicks into high gear in early November, with Election Day coming up on Tuesday the eighth.

Barbie is sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through the pages of the newspaper as her cold coffee sits next to her.

Tight Race Between Candidatessays one headline.Upcoming Vote Expected to Change Course of Housesays another. Barbie’s eyes skim the pages and pause on a black-and-white photo at the bottom of page ten. Two men are shaking hands on the front steps of a stately building. The younger one is beaming directly at the camera.

“Theodore Mackey, son of Senator George Mackey, prepares to take the helm as he goes into the family business,” reads the caption. Barbie looks back and forth between the image of her father and brother and the words beneath the photo.Take the helm, she thinks.Family business.

The short column that goes with the photo is a quick read, and details her father’s years of service in the Senate, his stance on the Vietnam war (in favor), his passion for the Space Race, and the fact that he’d been married to Marion Mackey andproduced two children—an unnamed daughter, and the son he’s pinned all his hopes on, young Theodore.

Barbie closes the paper and slaps the front cover of it violently, causing her coffee to slosh around in its cup. Huck’s worried face appears in the doorway to the kitchen, a firetruck clutched in his hand as he looks at his mother.

“Oh, honey,” Barbie says, noticing him. “Mommy is fine. Go play.”

With one more glance at his mother, Huck vanishes back to the tangle of trucks and cars he’s been sorting through in the front room.

Barbie stands and walks over to the phone on the wall, unclipping her earring as she picks up the receiver. Carrie answers on the third ring.

“Hi,” Barbie says without preamble. “I was wondering what you thought about me establishing a foundation.”

“A foundation for what?” There is laughter in Carrie’s voice. “You building a house, Barb?”

Barbie doesn’t even crack a smile; she’s all business. “No. I want to establish a foundation that meets needs.”

Carrie’s frown is almost audible over the phone line. “Okay,” she says, clearly trying to puzzle out what her friend is saying. “I’m listening.”

“I’m turning thirty in two weeks,” Barbie says seriously. “And I’ve always known that, when I turn thirty, I have access to a trust fund that my mother left for me.”

Carrie’s laugh is one of disbelief. “You have a trust fund?”

Barbie has forgotten for a moment that she’s not in Connecticut anymore; her friends here don’t come from families with trust funds and houses at the shore and family trees that they can trace directly back to the Mayflower. To Carrie, a trust fund undoubtedly sounds ridiculous. Spoiled. Out of touch.

Barbie forges ahead. “I do. My mother had set one up for me and another for my brother, and when she died, she’d already set the terms. Ted is three years older than me, so he’s already gotten his, but now it’s my turn. I have no idea how much is in the fund, but I want to use it for something good.”

Carrie hums softly as they sit on the line. “Okay,” she says. “A foundation.”

“Yep.”

“Well, I think it’s worth talking to Todd about, if you haven’t already. Because, not to be nosy, but most of us could use an inheritance to pay for our houses or to put away for our kids’ futures, you know? He might not want you to sink all of it into a foundation or to give it away, even for a great cause.”

Barbie stands next to the phone, slipping her foot in and out of her shoe as she thinks about this. The sound of Huck makingvroom-vroomnoises on the living room rug is in the background.

“It’s my money,” Barbie decides. In her heart, she knows Todd will agree with her about this. They’ve been together for nearly half their lives, and if she knows anyone, she knows him. “Todd will support my decision.”

Carrie gives a low whistle. “Well, then I think you know what you’re going to do, and hey—it’s pretty exciting. Not everyone would take a chunk of money and spend it on starting a foundation, Barbie. That’s very generous.”

Barbie shrugs this away, though Carrie can’t see her. “I never really thought of it as mine anyway,” she admits. “And even though my mom would have adored my boys and would have wanted to spoil them like crazy, she would also have loved seeing me do something for others. I know that.”

“Your mom sounds like she was a really wonderful lady, Barb.”

The surprise wash of tears that sneak up on her when she thinks and talks about her mother is there again, and Barbie smiles against the urge to cry as she turns to face the sliding door to her backyard. “She was,” Barbie says simply. “She absolutely was.”

Her next phone call hadn’t gone quite as smoothly, but Barbie never really expected it to.

“You want to dowhat?” Senator George Mackey’s voice had boomed over the phone line. So excited was Barbie that she hadn’t even bothered to worry about the long-distance telephone charges, nor had she considered whether her father would be free to talk. In the run-up to the election, he’d been fairly busy steering Ted towards the Senate seat, but Barbie knew if she called his office, his secretary would put her through.

“I want to use my inheritance to start a foundation to serve my new community.”

“That’s insane,” Senator Mackey said. “I will not allow it.”

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