50
The phones were ringing constantly when I came back into the office, but Michael told me he would help Stuart and Charlie, who had shown up when his classes ended for the day, and to go sit in the relative quiet of his office to work on my letter.
I sat in Michael’s chair, picked up a pen, and got to work writing. Claire could type it when I finished—if I tried, it would be another week before it ran.
But the words weren’t coming. I couldn’t go in too angry. Angry women were seen as too emotional to be trusted. Nor could I be a doormat. But finding the right balance was difficult, because the truth was that I was angry that I was in this position. Angry that I had to write this letter. Angry that Larry couldn’t just own what he had done and let me go. Angry that I had so readily put myself in this situation. But also angry that if I didn’t do something, Larry and Sam would win everything at our expense.
When Michael poked his head back in an hour later, a dozen balled-up pages sat around the legal pad on the desk. “What do you need?” I asked him.
He took in the crumpled pages. “Um—I’d normally hate to interrupt but ...”
“Interrupt away,” I said, leaning back from the desk.
“There’s a woman here to see you, and uh ... she said you offered her a job?”
I looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then jumped out of my chair. “Linda?”
Michael looked uncertain. “Maybe? Blonde. Said she came from Sam’s office, and you said she could be my secretary?”
I hurried past him to find Stuart glaring at Linda at the front of the office as she stood in a cheap knockoff Jackie Kennedy suit and dented hat. Her shoulders sagged in relief when she saw me. “Linda,” I said warmly. “Welcome.”
“What is this?” Stuart asked, looking from me to her and back to me.
“This is Larry’s sec—” I looked at Linda. “Former?” She nodded. “Larry’s former secretary, Linda Fleming. I told her we could use a new secretary, with the interns back in school.”
Stuart took my arm and forcibly tugged me toward the back of the office. “We just need a minute,” he said over his shoulder to Linda.
“Let me go,” I said, taking my arm back. “You can just say, ‘Hi, Bev, can we talk in private?’ No need to manhandle me.”
“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. “But what are you doing?”
“Winning my divorce,” I said. “If she’s here, it means she’s willing to testify.” He blinked twice rapidly and then a third time, then looked over my shoulder at Linda as he processed who that meant she was.
“Oh,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I went to see her after we got the motel book. She was scared that if she testified, she would lose her job.”
“Does she have any . . . qualifications other than . . . you know . . . ?”
Men, I thought. “No formal secretarial training, but she’s been on Larry’s staff for”—I called over to her. “Linda, how long did you work for Larry?”
“A little over four years,” she said.
“I’d argue there’s a lot you can learn in four years on the job that you can’t in secretarial school.”
Stuart studied her for a few seconds, then turned back to me. “And you trust her?”
Not around Michael, but as a secretary, I thought. But what came out of my mouth was “I do.” And I was surprised to find that was the truth. The fact that she quit and came here told me what I needed to know about her character.
“Then I guess she’s hired,” Stuart said.
I gave Linda a wink, then left Stuart to go to her. “So this means ...?”
She nodded. “I’ll testify.”
I fought the urge to whoop. “Thank you. Really.”
“Listen,” she said. “That article—they shouldn’t have done that. That’s why I’m here.” I looked at her quizzically. “Larry knew full well you weren’t cheating on him. He laughed when Sam suggested hiring a PI. And he wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do with the kids. I heard him telling Sam that too.” She looked down at her hands. “I—I knew they fought dirty. That whole Tom Stanton thing. I thought that was what all campaigns did. But that’s not true, is it?”
“It’s not. A lot do, but not all.”
“And this one?”
“Clean as a whistle,” I said. Then I realized what she had said. “Wait. What do you know about the Tom Stanton thing? You weren’t working for Larry then. You had to still be in school.”
She didn’t reply, but looked guilty.
“Linda,” I said. “What do you know?”
“You—you won’t let them know I told you?” I mimed crossing my heart. “My sister was the one who said she was pregnant.”
I stared at her. “Your ... sister?”
Linda nodded. “My daddy was sick—he’s gone now—but we needed the money for treatment. And Betty met Sam when she was waiting tables at Mrs. K’s Toll House.” Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the ground. “He took her out and helped a lot. He was married, but ...” She shrugged.
“Wait, Tom Stanton took her out?”
Linda looked up. “No, Sam did. Came to the house to pick her up and everything.”
“Sam had an affair with your sister?”
She nodded again. “But then he talked her into saying she’d been with Tom Stanton. He said he’d pay Daddy’s medical bills and then give me a job when I finished school.”
I stared at her. “And—and the baby?”
“There never was a baby. They paid her to say that so Sam would win.”
“Michael!” I yelled. “Stuart! Get over here!”
Linda backed away, but I reached out and took her wrist as the two men advanced on us. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said. “But I’m going to need you to tell them EXACTLY what you just told me.” I turned to Michael and Stuart. “I think we just won the election.”