27
Marilyn would be driving from New Jersey to Key West the following week and said she and her fiancé would be happy to stop in DC for the day to visit. “Dan won’t mind.”
“The campaign is short on money still,” I warned her.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Marilyn said. Then she lowered her voice. “My mother said Larry is being a real piece of work too. How are you situated? You know I’ll help if you need it.”
Of course my own mother had told Marilyn’s mother what was going on. The two of them spoke nearly every day. And there were no secrets. When Marilyn went crashing through a stained-glass window while making out with the rabbi’s son during Shabbat services a couple of years earlier, I heard all the gory details. So I was sure she knew exactly what I saw when I walked into Larry’s office that day.
“I’m okay,” I said lightly. I had gotten my first paycheck for my work with Michael, even though I had gone digging for receipts when Stuart stepped out for lunch, and I confirmed I was making significantly less than he was. But that was a problem for another day. Besides, my credit was still good at the grocer, and my paycheck would cover frills for now. And my lawyer had assured me Larry would have to pay for necessities. So no, I didn’t want to take my cousin’s money—even if she had come into a massive family fortune. “But thank you.”
“Don’t be offended,” Marilyn said. “If you need anything, you just call me.”
I thanked her and assured her I would see her the following week. I was five years older than Marilyn, and it was strange to suddenly be in the position of supplicant. But family was family. I may not have been able to count on Larry, but I knew I could count on my blood relations.
I spent the rest of the week following up with people who had been at the women’s luncheon. I had tasked Charlie with getting names as people walked in, and now we had a comprehensive list of people whom we could call, both to remind to vote and to gently ask for money. I started with the former and worked my way around to the latter, amassing nearly two thousand dollars by the close of business on July 3.
“I’m heading home,” I called to Michael and Stuart, having let the interns cut out early to begin celebrating the holiday.
“I think we’re wrapping up here too,” Michael said.
“Not me yet,” Stuart said. “I want to get that press release out to the Montgomery Sentinel first.”
Michael nodded. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he said to Stuart, before picking up his briefcase and turning to me. “I’ll walk you out.” He held out an elbow and, in another life, I would have taken it. But when he saw me debating the etiquette of holding my boss’s arm, he returned it to his side smoothly, then held the door for me.
We reached the street, and Michael asked where I was parked. “I don’t actually have a car,” I said.
He looked taken aback by this. “No car?”
“Well, Larry took ours, of course. He didn’t exactly think I’d find a job. And I borrow my mother’s sometimes. But I don’t like her watching the kids without a car in case of emergencies. So I take the bus to work.”
“The bus?” he echoed, at a loss. “But we work late sometimes.”
“I assure you, the bus is quite safe. No ogres or boogeymen to be seen.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
I looked at him. “What happened to respecting women instead of protecting them?”
The left side of his mouth twisted up in a wry smile. “I respect you too much to make you sit on a dirty bus in that dress. How’s that?”
“It is a lovely dress.”
“It is. And I can assure you that it’s the dress I’m protecting.”
I laughed. “I’m only saying yes because it’s hot outside.” Which was completely true. July in the DC area was sweltering and usually best spent at the beach, three hours away, or by a pool. In a nonelection year, I would be doing a combination of the two. If Larry hadn’t chosen to upend our lives, that is.
“I respect that too,” he said. “Come on, it’s just around the corner.”
Safely ensconced in Michael’s car, which I was thrilled to see had an under-dash air-conditioning unit, I directed him to East-West Highway toward Chevy Chase.
“Is that where you grew up?”
“It is.”
“Funny,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Kind of. We grew up four miles apart. But in different worlds.”
I looked over at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Country clubs and private schools and a congressman father.”
“I went to public school,” I said. He glanced at me. “Papa was—is—a big believer in public education and civil service.”
“That’s true,” Michael said. “They don’t make them like your father anymore.”
I shook my head. Papa was still grumbling over his replacement. Mama told him he shouldn’t have retired if he still wanted to have a say in what happened in the House, to which he replied that she was trying to kill him. But there was a lot of backseat politicking going on. Or at least there had been. I needed to spend more time with him. I was stopping by once a week after work to stock his refrigerator and cupboards, but he was lonely without Mama. “That they don’t.”
“I’d love to talk to him sometime.”
This time the look I gave him was far sharper. “Is that why you took a chance on me?”
He appeared confused by my tone, which was admittedly harsher than I’d intended. “No. I mean, it was part of it—I knew you’d been around politics. If you had just been Larry’s wife, I don’t think that would have been as convincing. But I’m not looking for an endorsement if that’s what you’re asking. I just admire him.”
I turned to look out the window, unnerved by how perceptive he was. He couldn’t have known my suspicion that my father was the entire reason Larry had married me. And yet—
“Besides,” Michael continued quietly, “with you raising all that money this week, I think it’s your endorsement that carries more weight.”
“It’s a good thing you went into politics,” I said, turning back toward the windshield, but not quite looking at him. “You’re certainly a smooth enough talker for it.”
Michael laughed, a real laugh. “It wasn’t a line.”
“Mmhmm. Turn left up there.”
He put on his blinker and did as he was told, and I directed him to my street and then my house.
“This is it,” I said. “Home sweet home.”
Michael craned his neck at the windshield to get the full view. “I see why you didn’t want to leave,” he said. “What did Greg say?”
“That Larry has to pay to support me—as long as I don’t go wild with the spending.”
“But the house is safe?”
“It is—but I’m not quitting yet.”
Michael looked back at me, and for a split second I felt like I was at the end of a date, sitting in the driveway, not wanting to go inside yet. “Good,” he said lightly, his eyes locking on mine. He shifted his body slightly toward me and then froze briefly before turning back to look straight ahead. “I—uh—what are you doing for the Fourth of July? Anything special?”
I smoothed my dress. “The club does a barbecue every year. And then fireworks.” I glanced over, but he was still looking straight ahead. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Is anyone else in the car?”
He grinned ruefully. “No. Not unless Stuart is hiding in the trunk.”
“A disturbing image.”
Michael chuckled. “I don’t have anything planned.”
I pictured him in a bachelor’s apartment with a TV dinner. It was no way to spend a holiday. “Well, that won’t do at all. You should come to the club with me and the kids.”
It took him a moment to reply. “Is that ... smart?”
“Couldn’t be smarter,” I said. “The ladies get to see you’re a real person, and you can meet the husbands too.”
“I meant—”
I didn’t let him finish that sentence. “Bring a bathing suit if you want to swim. They have towels there. And casual—slacks and a short-sleeved shirt. No suits at a barbecue.”
He debated internally for a moment before nodding. “What time?”
“Three? Unless you want to just show up for dinner and fireworks.”
“What does my junior campaign manager suggest?”
It was my turn to smile. “Pick us up at three.”
“I’ll be here,” he said.
“Good,” I said, opening my car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow—boss.”
Michael laughed again. “Good night, Beverly.”
I went up the walkway, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder to see if he was watching me. When I reached the door, I turned back and waved, but he waited until I opened it to begin backing up.
I didn’t immediately call to my mother and the children though. Instead, I shut the door quietly behind me and leaned on it. I had clearly been imagining that moment in the car. Besides, I was a soon-to-be divorcée with two kids. Flirting was a thing of the past for me. And even if it wasn’t, I was in no position to become an adulterer as well.
No. I needed to focus on Michael’s career. And I had been telling the truth: going to the club as a person, not a politician, was a wise move.
As I lay in bed that night though, I mentally went through my wardrobe for the perfect dress for the next day to avoid thinking about the way he had looked at me. That line of thought went nowhere good.