Chapter 61
A few days after the Packers game, Dot came home from the office to find a small package waiting for her on the kitchen island.
“What’s this?” she asked Mary, picking up the box. It hardly weighed anything.
“I’m not sure. That cute UPS driver dropped it off around noon.”
“The UPS driver is cute?”
“Oh yes. Super-cute,” Harper said, sitting at the breakfast bar with her laptop. “Great legs.”
“Yeah, he’s really into cycling. Training for the Olympics.” Mary sat in the family room in the deep cushioned chair, her long legs crossed with her feet resting on the ottoman, computer on her lap.
“He grew up in Green Bay but moved here to be closer to his coach,” Harper said. “And he’s single.”
“How do you know so much about this cute single bicycle guy?” Dot asked.
“Research,” Harper said.
“Aha—is that what your book is about—hot delivery cyclists?”
“Nice try.”
“Come on, Harp, when are you going to share this book? We’re dying to read it.”
“I’m superstitious. I’m afraid that if I let you in on it, it’ll fall apart.”
“Whatever it is, definitely work in the hot cyclist somehow,” Mary said. “You know, like, ‘the UPS driver with a very special delivery.’”
“She’s right. That would sell,” Dot weighed in, thinking she needed to see this cyclist for herself.
“I’m not writing a soft porn.” Harper rolled her eyes playfully and grabbed her laptop. “I’m heading up to the loft so I can think straight. Come on, Pip.” Pippi leapt out of her bed and scrambled after Harper.
Dot picked up the package and noticed the postmark was from Vail, Colorado. It was from her sister Anne. She used a knife to slice through the tape and discarded the box in the proper recycling bin.
Inside the small pink box was a gold bangle, and on the inside, it had been engraved with one word: Breathe.
Dot put the bracelet on and sent Anne a text right away. “Wow, thanks for the bracelet. I love it. And I needed that reminder. It’s been a whirlwind.”
“I knew it. You always hold your breath when you’re stressed. Like when you almost passed out in high school during the school play.”
“Don’t remind me. Still embarrassed by that.” She snapped a pic of her wrist and added it to their exchange. “Thanks, sis. I’m already wearing it.”
“Maybe you can visit after the campaign and ski for a few days? We already got a good snow.”
“I’d love that.” She added suitcase and skis emojis and then she put her phone down.
Just thinking about what would come after the campaign was making Dot feel anxious.
Plus, she didn’t have time to concentrate on what was next, because with just a month to Election Day, the race was back to 49–49 in Wisconsin, about 51–48 nationwide.
The Republicans had a slight edge. The Democrats hadn’t been able to break out with a lead for more than a day or two at a time.
And even when they got a small lead in the battleground states, it evaporated quickly.
The pressure at For the Win was mounting.
Kitty was serious about that half-a-million-dollar win bonus she’d be set to get and was still dangling the 20 percent share with her and Fletcher if Lopez won.
Not to mention if there was no Democratic win, there’d be no White House job for Kitty.
Dot and Fletcher did what they could to keep their D.C. boss supplied with data.
“I’m going to bury her with numbers for a few hours,” Fletcher said on a day when Kitty just wouldn’t let up.
“Good. We need some breathing room,” Dot said, taking a minute to pull herself together.
Early that week, Dot had interviewed with the American Progress PAC.
She’d approached the meeting with a mix of curiosity and seriousness, determined to ask them as many questions as they asked her.
She tried to tone down her New York attitude, not wanting to make it seem like she was one of those Manhattan snobs who looked down on Washington.
She wore a white button-down and a gray blazer to show how professional she was.
It’d been ages since she’d interviewed for a job.
Bailey Bickle, the one who’d sent her the original email, was on the video call, along with two other staffers—one in comms and one in operations—to see if they’d be a match.
At the end of a good exchange, they seemed eager to have Dot join them in Washington.
Soon after, they sent signals that they were likely to offer her the job.
And while it was enticing and paid well, she just couldn’t see moving to D.C.
instead of returning to Manhattan. She was a New York girl.
She’d never pictured herself working in the capital city.
That was more for the Kitty Bells of the world—the navy suit and pearl earring types.
At least she’d come to that conclusion during her time in Wisconsin.
Knowing that she didn’t necessarily want to live inside the Beltway was worthwhile, she guessed.
But if she didn’t have any work in New York, would it be better if she just moved to D.C. to check it out? It didn’t have to be forever. Besides, if she was going to work in politics, didn’t she have to live in D.C.?
The biggest complication—and the one she had no idea how to handle—was knowing in her heart that she was in love with Danny Dawson.
And, at his invitation, for the nights she slept over, she’d kept a toothbrush, face oil, and sunscreen in his bathroom.
He loved to make her coffee in the mornings, and she’d sit up in bed reading the headlines until he brought her a coffee, and they’d talk about the next time they’d see each other.
She always stayed for the second cup. He’d been right. That was when the good stuff came out in their conversations.
Still, they hadn’t yet had a talk about their feelings. And while she believed he might feel the same way about her, they both held back. Neither of them brought up the future and both just tried to ignore that the clock to Election Day and her departure was ticking down.
Because there was one thing she knew for sure—come mid-November, Danny was not going to be in Washington, D.C., or New York City. He would be in Cedar Falls. She had to come to terms with that.
And so, Dot held her breath. Her mind was on a loop.
In the kitchen that night, she twisted Anne’s bracelet on her wrist and sighed, ready to mentally move on with her evening.
“Wine?” Dot asked Mary, getting two glasses out of the cupboard.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Dot poured them each a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
They clinked glasses and turned their backs to the kitchen island to look out the big window to the backyard, where the autumn leaves were turning from yellow to gold and orange to copper.
They were beautiful, but they also signaled the end of their season in that house.
“So, counselor, what are we going to do?” Dot asked, leaning her head against Mary’s.
“That’s a good question. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.” Though even Mary didn’t sound as confident as usual. And Dot had her doubts as well.