Chapter 29
Cole
As I walk to the door to let Tom in, I mentally kick myself for what just transpired. I should’ve told Ashley about marrying Lydia weeks ago. I kept putting it off because I didn’t want to have to see her annoyingly smug expression when she found out. I knew she would assume my quickie marriage was in response to what she said to me after I proposed. I wish I could tell her the truth about Lydia’s unplanned pregnancy, but that wouldn’t be good for my campaign. As far as the public is concerned, this baby was conceived in love.
I roll my neck, trying to shake my frustrations off. What do I care what Ashley thinks? I picture Lydia’s expression when she asked about me having breakfast with Ashley. That’s the second time I’ve thought she might be jealous of Ashley. The thought cheers me up, but then my imagination goes rogue and dread fills me as I think about how Lydia will feel if she ever finds out what Ashley said to me after I proposed .
“I just don’t think you’re ready for marriage.” I hear Ashley’s words from that day. “You work too much. Honestly, if we didn’t work together, I’m not even sure when I’d see you. And sure, I work a lot now too, but I want to have a family someday and once I do, I plan on slowing down. Can you say the same?”
All of the irritation I felt that day starts to flare up inside me again as I recall what she said in response to my noncommittal silence. “That’s what I thought.” The heavy sigh she let out at this point echoes inside my mind. “I don’t know, Cole, this might sound crazy, but it’s almost like I want you to have a practice marriage first, and then, when that fails and you’ve learned some things, then we can get married.”
Come to think of it, no wonder I bounced back from that relationship so fast.
The doorbell rings again, and I hurry the rest of the way forward, tabling this line of thought for now.
“Hi, Tom,” I greet him, “thanks for coming over.”
Tom glances up from his phone and offers me a brief smile. “That is what I’m paid to do.”
“Right.” I refrain from pointing out that he seemed to have forgotten that fact last night and lead him towards the kitchen where Lydia is busy putting Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.
“Tom,” Lydia leans her hip against the island and studies him as she opens a Pop-Tart package, “how nice to see you again. Would you like one of the Pop-Tarts Cole bought me to keep me in check?” She slides a Pop-Tart from its silver lining then holds the remaining one out to him. I grimace at her words.
“I already ate.” Tom eyes the package disdainfully, then turns to me. “Now, Cole, you said in your text that you had something big to share with me, so let’s get down to it because I really think we need to be addressing Arnold’s smartboard initiative.”
“Right.” I drum my fingers along the island, excitement bubbling out of me. “Funny you should mention that, because what I have to tell you actually pertains to Arnold’s smartboard initiative.”
“Oh.” One of Tom’s eyebrows slides up. “Let’s hear it.”
“Alright.” I rub my hands together warming up for my story. “Last night, I mentioned to Lydia that Arnold had just managed to procure the funds to purchase smartboards for the school district. She in turn told me that the school district had only just purchased smartboards two years ago.” As I say this last part, I see Tom lean forward—I’ve caught his interest.
“We both thought this seemed odd, so I decided to do a little investigating.” I cross the kitchen and retrieve the folder of articles I printed last night off the far counter. “As you’ll soon see,” I slide the folder to Tom, “I found out a number of incriminating things, starting with the fact that the CEO of TeachBoard, the company the schools would be purchasing their smartboards from, is engaged to Arnold’s daughter.” I jab the top article, a clipping of the pair’s engagement announcement. “That on its own looks a bit shady, but when you couple it with the fact that,” I pull the next article from the pile, “the new president of the school board was Arnold’s college roommate and doubles partner on the tennis team,” I point to the picture of the two of them holding a tennis trophy, “and the treasurer,” I remove the last article, “is on the social committee of the Bayshore Golf Club with,” I move my finger down to a photo I printed off the club’s website, “Ferris Arnold’s wife, then you start to see the beginning of a political scandal.”
“Holy cow,” Lydia breathes, and I realize she’s come up behind me and is peering over my shoulder at the articles. A whiff of vanilla hits me. “They just went ahead and orchestrated a sweetheart deal right under everybody’s noses.”
“Essentially,” I nod, taken aback that she knows this terminology. Then I remember she was pre-law in undergrad.
“A sweetheart deal, what’s that?” Tom asks.
“It’s a special arrangement made between a private corporation and a government entity that allows the corporation to benefit rather than the general public. And in this scenario the government entity is also benefiting, seeing as this will help him in his bid for reelection.” I pause, then add, “Of course, this arrangement is well hidden, since most people would assume if the school board approved purchasing new smartboards, the district must need them. Not to mention,” I pick up the last paper in the folder on which is printed an article comprised only of a single paragraph, “when I looked up the original purchase of the smartboards, which was initiated by the city’s previous mayor, Jim Dartmouth, I only found a tiny blurb from the Sentinel’s education section. For some reason, the purchase wasn’t very publicized.”
Tom scans the short article for far longer than it takes to actually read it, and I start to feel a hint of nerves. Why isn’t he excited about this?
“Tom,” I pick back up, “don’t you see, this has the makings of a major political scandal. Arnold and the school board are misusing funds .” I stress the last two words, hoping for a reaction, but Tom just sets the article down and leans back in his seat.
“It’s a non-starter,” he states. “We can’t expose this.”
“What?” Lydia gasps before I can get the word out myself. “You can’t be serious, Tom.”
“I’m completely serious.” Tom looks from her to me. “Tell me, what do you two think will happen if we try and put Arnold in the middle of a political scandal? You think he’ll just take it lying down? Arnold is a fighter, a competitor. We expose this, he exposes the two of you and your torrid little one-night stand turned accidental pregnancy.”
“Torrid little one-night stand?” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Please, you can’t really tell me that voters will care more about the fact that Cole got someone pregnant out of wedlock, than that an elected government official is misusing taxpayer funds.”
“In your opinion he’s misusing them,” Tom retorts, “but others might not view it that way. After all, he is getting the schools new smartboards and the board did approve the expenditure.”
“Oh c’mon!” Lydia throws up her hands. “How could any parent be okay with their school district throwing away what amounts to almost a million dollars? Think of the things the schools could use that money for!”
“Be that as it may,” Tom’s tone is even, but his eyes are hard, “I know the demographics of this city’s voters, and they have traditional family values. They also place a high value on education, so anything done to better the schools will be looked on favorably. Many of them will say, if we have the funds to replace the smartboards, then why not do it? Honestly, all of these articles Cole found basically amount to a compilation of the relationships in Arnold’s life, they hold no real clout nor do they contain anything that could get Arnold convicted of wrongdoing.”
Lydia glowers at him. “I don’t think this is about getting Arnold convicted of anything, it’s about bringing to light that Arnold is abusing his power. Right, Cole?” She looks to me. For a second, I’m speechless as I take in her fiery expression. She’s fighting for me and that makes my chest expand with warmth. “Cole?” she prods again, and I jump back to the conversation.
“I agree with Lydia, Tom. I’ve said from day one that I thought we should be upfront with the voters. We’ve been keeping our marriage under wraps, but I think it’s time to announce it and deal with the fall-out. None of this fudging of due dates and what not. Let’s just air our dirty laundry, so we can then air their even dirtier laundry.”
Tom is silent, but I see a vein ticking in his forehead. “No,” he says eventually, “not going to happen.”
“Tom,” I’m stunned, “I’m not sure this is your call to make.”
“I’m your campaign manager,” he stands as if ending the conversation, “so yes, it is my call. And if you can’t accept that, perhaps you should find someone else to work with.” Tom turns and starts to stalk out.
“Wait, Tom—” I begin again, but Lydia interjects.
“Tom,” her icy whisper cuts through the chaos, “tell me you didn’t.”
Tom freezes and his shoulders sag for the briefest second before he turns back to face us.
“He didn’t what?” I turn to Lydia in confusion. Her face has gone white, and her hands are shaking.
“You did, didn’t you? I can’t believe it!” she cries.
“What is going on?” I demand loudly, and Lydia finally turns to me.
“He sent the state the wrong marriage license, didn’t you, Tom?”
Tom doesn’t answer, just stands there with a defensive expression.
Horror grips me as I stare at Tom. “You sent the wrong marriage license?” I repeat in disbelief.
“He did,” Lydia replies evenly. “He sent the marriage license with the fake date on it, so now he can’t risk us exposing Arnold’s corruption since he doesn’t want Arnold’s campaign retaliating by trying to dig up something on you. If they start digging and find the falsified marriage license, we could all end up in prison.” Her voice goes up an octave at the end and she starts pacing. My blood runs cold. Prison.
“Oh my gosh, I’m going to give birth in a prison cell!” Lydia continues speaking, going into stream of consciousness mode as she paces. “Do you think they make those prison jumpsuits in maternity sizes?” She moans. “Oh my goodness, I don’t think I can subsist on gruel. I’m going to have to rewatch Shawshank Redemption . Or maybe read The Count of Monte Cristo so I can learn how to plot revenge against Tom while I’m imprisoned. Do you think they sell shivs on Amazon prime? No, that’s stupid, I obviously can’t bring a shiv in with me, I’ll just have to watch a YouTube video ahead of time so I know how to fashion one out of a toothbrush or—”
“Lydia!” I cut off her stride, taking her by the shoulders. “We are not going to prison.”
“We’re not?” Her eyes plead with me.
“That’s right,” Tom finally speaks. “None of us are going to prison, because no one is ever going to find out about the fraudulent date. This may be hard for you to believe, but this sort of thing happens all the time in politics. I did what I had to do to keep Cole’s reputation in check. Honestly, you should both be thanking me for doing what you didn’t have the nerve to do. You think Cole would have any chance of getting elected as mayor, yet alone as a senator one day, if he got a reputation as a womanizer? His career would be over before it even started.” Tom slices the air with his hand. “Luckily, I took matters into my own hands and did what I had to do. Now Cole is just a lucky guy whose wife got pregnant on their honeymoon. We just have to stay the course, run a clean race, and we can get Cole elected.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Tom has clearly gone off the deep end. Still, I nod along with what he’s saying, desperate to get him out of the house without him knowing I think he’s nuts. Then, once he’s gone, I can handle the situation without him going on the defensive.
“Wait, you can’t actually be agreeing with him right now?” Lydia cries incredulously. “This is insanity!”
“Tom,” I turn to him, “Lydia and I clearly need to have a conversation so I can bring her around to our way of thinking. Would you mind leaving us for now, and I’ll be in touch later about how I can gain some ground back after this smartboard move of Arnold’s.”
Lydia gapes at me, but I ignore her.
“I knew you’d see things my way,” Tom says briskly. “Give me a call if you need help making her see sense.” He eyes Lydia distastefully, and I force myself not to retort. I can’t believe I hired this clown to be my campaign manager.
Lydia is still seething when I get back from walking Tom out, but before she can jump down my throat, I hold a hand up.
“Hold up, Lydia, it’s not what you think. I completely agree with you. I just had to get him out of the house without letting him know that I agree with you.” Her mouth, which she’d opened to lay into me, snaps shut. “I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to strike out against us, so I just pretended to agree with him.”
“Wow.” Relief settles across her features. “You totally had me convinced.” She studies me admiringly. “Who knew you were so wily.”
“I would have thought my dominance in our prank war would have established how wily I am.”
Lydia shakes her head. “Dominance? Please. If you were Wily during our prank war, then I was the Roadrunner, ready and waiting with an anvil.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me, and for a second, we both grin at each other. Then the reality of our situation hits us both again and she groans. “So what are we going to do now? This is really bad.”
“We just have to handle it,” I say wearily.
Lydia scrunches up her nose. “You sound like Tom.”
“Yeah, well, that’s politics for you. Messy situations arise and somebody has to handle them. Unfortunately, in this case, we can’t rely on my campaign manager since he’s the one who caused the messy situation, so I’ll just have to figure out what to do on my own.”
“Or,” Lydia hesitates for a second, then presses on, “I don’t know…I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe you should call your dad.”
“I don’t need my dad.” I instantly bristle.
“Are you sure? Because, unlike us, he’s spent his whole career handling tricky situations like this. And, frankly—”
“Lydia,” I interject more forcefully, “I don’t need my dad.”
“Just like you don’t need God,” she mutters.
“Exactly,” I retort. “I can handle this.”
“Fine, you can handle this.” Lydia holds her hands up in defeat, then reaches for her phone.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “You’re not calling my dad, are you?”
“No, Cole, I’m not calling your dad.” She rolls her eyes. “I heard you when you said you had it handled.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Well, not to show a complete lack of faith in your ability to handle this, but if you must know, I’m researching prison OBGYNs. I want what’s best for our twins, after all.” Her mouth forms a hard line. “Obviously their parents staying out of prison would be ideal, but your pride is clearly more important than our children’s wellbeing.”
I’m silent as I glower back at her, but her defiant expression doesn’t fade. My gaze lowers to her barely-there bump, and I feel something inside me shift. “Fine,” I growl, “I’ll call my dad.” I yank out my phone, but before I dial, I look over at her a question on my lips. “Lydia? ”
“Yes?” She’s got her hand on her hip, waiting for me to make the call.
“You seem to know an awful lot about corporate law for someone who didn’t get into law school.”
Lydia immediately looks away. “Yeah, well I’ve got two lawyers for parents.”
“What did you score on the LSATs,” I demand, suspicion rising in me.
“I don’t remember.”
“I don’t believe you. I know you actually did get into law school and you just lied to your parents and told them you didn’t.”
“What?” Her gaze jerks back to mine. “H-how do you know that?”
“I didn’t know,” I smile triumphantly, “until now.”
“You jerk!” she cries.
“Do you want to explain why you lied to your parents?” I hold my phone out. “I think the call to my dad can wait until you do.”
“You’re insufferable,” she scowls.
“And you’re stalling,” I reply.
“I just…I don’t want to be a lawyer, okay?” She tosses her hair. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not.”
Her eyes soften. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Of course not. You don’t have to be a lawyer just because your parents want you to be.”
“Try telling them that,” she scoffs, but I see the glimmer of a smile on her face at my words. She’s pleased by what I said. “Now enough about me.” She tries to cover her pleasure. “Call your dad!” And without another word she runs out of the room.