“Catledge was a politician through and through. He had a good-sounding set of goals, he had a good campaign manager, and he’d done some worthwhile things. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and given Catledge’s six-foot-four frame, that wasn’t an inch. I just enjoyed Catledge for what he was. “Hey, good lookin‘!” he cried. “If your husband would just turn his back a minute, I’d give you a kiss to curl your toes, you beautiful thing!” “This beautiful thing would rather have a glass o...f wine, Catledge,” I said, smiling. “Besides, I don’t think you can bend down far enough.” I’m four-eleven. “Honey, I’d amputate my legs for the chance,” Catledge said dramatically, and I laughed. “Ellen might not care for that,” I said, handing him my coat. Martin reached past me to shake hands, and in a moment the men were deep in conversation about some yahoo’s chance in the Georgia governor’s race. I expected a flushed and harried Ellen to rush from the kitchen, but instead I saw her strolling through the garage door holding a brown paper bag containing, from its shape, a bottle of wine.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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