Page 31 of The Light Year

Barbie sighs and sits in one of the seats vacated by her nieces. "Well," she says, wondering what the evening will entail (a pre-set menu? Toasts from Todd and her friends and her father?)--she can't even guess. "Thanks for coming all the way down here."

"Wouldn't miss it," Ted says, sitting in his chair and leaning back as he puts one ankle on the opposite knee. He looks like he's in charge of a meeting.

"I'm going to get another drink," Christina says, standing up and looking, at least to Barbie's eyes, a little wobbly on her feet.

Olives & Oysters is a nice restaurant, and one that Barbie and Todd have come to on a couple of occasions, but they've turned a separate room into a space for their party. The tables are all covered with white linens, and there are pink and gold balloons in all four corners of the room. The bar is at one end of the space, and a pink-frosted cake sits on a table near the bar.

Barbie lets her eyes drift around the room as people circulate with drinks in hand, talking and smiling. It's a bit overwhelming for someone who’d thought she was just having dinner with her husband and children.

She turns back to her father. "I can't believe you're here."

"I thought it was wise, given the circumstances." George Mackey reaches for his tumbler on the table and swirls the liquidaround. "Family should always meet face-to-face to discuss family matters."

Barbie's gaze goes to Ted; he's looking deeply into his own glass.

"Wait--you flew down here not for my birthday, but to discuss the foundation?"

George gives an amused chuckle. "Well. It's not really a foundation yet, Barbara. It's more of a concept--an idea--at this point."

Barbie makes a move to stand up; she’s already had enough of this discussion. “This is my birthday party,” she says evenly, putting her fingertips on the table as she stands there, watching her brother take a swig of his whiskey. “I think family discussions about money can take place at a different time and place.”

“Now, Barbara.” George Mackey runs a hand over his knee as he sits there with one leg crossed over the other. “I think what you’d like to do with your mother’s money is a lovely gesture. I just think you can do it in a manner where you’re not throwing good money to the wind. There’s a strategic and a right way to do things, and I think we can come up with that if we put our heads together.”

“Barbie,” Ted says, speaking for the first time. He leans forward in his chair and puts his elbows on the table, steepling his hands as he looks at his younger sister. “Dad and I only have your best interests at heart here. You don’t necessarily have a mind for money, and that’s okay—no one expects you to. But we do, and we have some vested interest here.”

Across the room, Vance Majors slaps Todd on the back, and the two men talk as Jude and Carrie stand nearby, watching over the group of children. Barbie drags her eyes back to her brother. “What vested interest? It’s my money to spend as I wish.”

“Well, that right there, Barb,” Ted says, trying to sound brotherly, but instead just coming across as bossy. “It is your money, and Mom would have wanted you to do something for yourself with it. She might have been less pleased to know you were just giving it away to poor people who can’t be bothered to do an honest day’s work for themselves.”

Outrage grows in Barbie’s chest and she blinks a few times, ready to say the things that are roiling inside of her. Instead of yelling and making a scene at her own surprise party, Barbie lowers her voice, venom dripping from each word. “Neither of you knew her at all,” she says, hot tears stinging her eyes. “She would have been completely behind my decision, and I know that for a fact.”

George pulls a cigar and a lighter from the breast pocket of his jacket and holds them in his hands, preparing to light the cigar. “Go compose yourself,” he says to Barbie, sticking the end of the stogie in his mouth and glancing around for an ashtray. As if on cue, a waiter appears with one, setting it on the table.

“Here you are, Senator,” the waiter says genially, then vanishes.

Barbie stands. Her father isn’t wrong about the fact that she needs to compose herself, because she’s on the verge of losing her temper right here in front of everyone she knows.

“I’ll be back,” she says tersely, turning to make her way to the bathroom. As she walks through the restaurant, Barbie spots her boys and smiles at them. Todd is still engrossed in conversation, and everyone looks to be having a good time. Servers in white shirts and black pants are ferrying covered trays from the kitchen, and Barbie realizes that they’re all going into the room that’s been set aside for her party.A buffet, she thinks.That’s good. Informal.

The expense of things is always on her mind, and she doesn’t want to be wasteful. It never occurs to Barbie that her fathermight pay for this entire event, and instead she imagines Todd has put it all together, which makes her feel warm inside. He’s always been so good to Barbie—even when they were teenagers—so thoughtful and kind. Of course Todd would have arranged a surprise party for her, and paid for a buffet dinner for her friends and family. That would be so like him, and even though this is nothing she would have dreamed up for herself, she’s committed to having a fabulous time in order to thank her husband for the effort.

But when she returns to the party room a few minutes later, it’s clear that Todd is not the master of ceremonies at all. The moment she walks back in, George Mackey stands, setting his cigar in the ashtray and holding a fork to tap against his glass. The room quiets down.

It feels like slow motion to Barbie as the pieces fall together, and later she will think how stupid she was for not realizing before now how the evening was going to play out.

“Ah, Barbara,” her father says, holding out a hand in her direction. Barbie pauses in the doorway like a deer in headlights. Every head in the room turns to her. “The woman of the hour.” George Mackey pauses as a smattering of applause fills the room. “Happy birthday to my little girl, who is turning thirty and joining the rest of us at the grown-up table.” Polite applause comes from every table as the senator speaks in his booming voice. “Barbara, you make me so proud, and your brother and I are more than happy to be here to celebrate a momentous occasion like this with you.”

As Barbie stands there, unsure what to do with her hands, a waiter approaches and offers her a glass of champagne. She glances around and sees that everyone else in the room already has one, and that even the children have small glasses of juice in front of them. Barbie smiles stiffly.

“Barbara Jean,” Senator Mackey says, “you have brought us all so much joy, and if your mother were here today, I know she would be just as proud of you as I am.” He lifts his glass higher. “And she would be absolutely pleased to hear that you are going to be heading up the day-to-day operations of a new foundation that we’re forming in her honor.”

Barbie’s smile—already false and cautious—slips further.

“It is my pleasure to announce to you all right here, for the very first time, that the Mackey Family Foundation, in support of young people who wish to go into politics, will open its doors in 1967.”

The applause is more underwhelming this time, though Barbie hears a few people congratulating her, and she can’t help but nod as though this has been the plan all along. A foundation to assist young politicians? What is this? What is her father even saying? Barbie can scarcely fathom where he’s come up with this, but she’s wholly unable to stop this train that apparently left the station while she was in the ladies’ room.

“To Barbara, our Head of Operations,” George says, lifting his glass in the air. Everyone in the room follows suit. “Happy birthday, darling, and here’s to a successful foundation launch, and to our future generations of young politicians. Hey, some of them might even be here in this room with us right now.” Senator Mackey nods toward several children in the room, including his own grandkids. People clap again as soon as they’ve taken their sip of champagne.

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