The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  When she did eat, it was endless Dutch-treat breakfasts and pot-luck dinners. At night before falling into bed she would jot down more facts and figures—picked up in that day’s travels—into the dog-eared black briefing book that was never far from her side. She fell asleep trying to remember names, countless names, of people who would be insulted if she ever forgot the role they had played in her campaign. Richard would return to New York on Sunday night every bit as tired as Florentyna. Never once did he complain or bother his wife with any problems facing the bank or the Baron Group. She smiled up at him as they said goodbye at yet another cold February airport: she noticed he was wearing a pair of the blue leather gloves he had bought for his father in Bloomingdale’s over twenty years before.

  “I still have one more pair to go through, Jessie, before I can start looking for another woman,” he said, and left her smiling.

  Each morning Florentyna rose more determined to win a seat in the Senate. If she was sad about anything, it was how little she saw of William and Annabel. William, now sporting a Fidel Castro mustache, looked set for a summa cum laude, while Annabel brought a different young man home each vacation.

  From past experience, Florentyna had learned to expect a thunderbolt to land sometime during an election campaign, but she had not imagined that a meteorite would accompany it. During the past year, Chicago had been shaken by a series of brutal local murders committed by a man the press had dubbed the Chicago Cutthroat. After the killer had slashed the throat of each of his victims, he carved a heart on their foreheads to leave the police in no doubt who had struck again. More and more in public gatherings Florentyna and Ralph Brooks found that they were being tackled on the question of law and order. At night the streets of Chicago were almost deserted because of the reputation of the killer whom the police were unable to apprehend. To Florentyna’s relief, the murderer was caught one night on the Northwestem University campus after he had been taken by surprise while in the act of attacking a college girl.

  Florentyna made a statement the next morning in praise of the Chicago police force and wrote a personal note to the officer who had made the arrest. She assumed that that would be the end of the matter until she read the morning paper. Ralph Brooks had announced that he was personally going to prosecute the case against the Chicago Cutthroat even if it resulted in his sacrificing the Senate seat. It was a brilliant stroke that even Florentyna had to admire. Papers all across the nation ran pictures of the handsome State’s Attorney next to that of the vicious killer.

  The trial began five weeks before the primary, and Ralph Brooks was on the front page every day, demanding the death penalty in this case and other cases of Murder 1 so that the people of Chicago could once again walk the streets safely at night. Florentyna made press statement after press statement on the energy crisis, airport noise regulations, grain price supports, even Russian troop movements on the Polish border after martial law was instituted, but she couldn’t knock the State’s Attorney off the front page. At a meeting with the editorial board of the Tribune, Florentyna complained good-naturedly to the editor, who was apologetic but pointed out that Ralph Brooks was selling newspapers. Florentyna sat in her Washington office, impotently aware that she had no effective way of countering her opponent.

  In the hope that the clash might give her a chance to shine for a change, she challenged Ralph Brooks to a public debate. But the S.A. informed the press that he could not consider any such confrontation while so grave a public responsibility rested on his shoulders. “If I lose my chance to represent the good people of Illinois because of this decision, so be it,” he repeated again and again. Florentyna watched another percentage point slip away.

  On the day that the Chicago Cutthroat was convicted, the polls showed that Florentyna’s lead had fallen to 52–48. There were two weeks to go.

  Florentyna was planning to spend those last fourteen days stumping through the state when the meteorite landed.

  Richard phoned the Tuesday after the trial had ended to tell her that Annabel’s roommate had called to say Annabel had not returned to Radcliffe on Sunday night and she hadn’t heard from her since. Florentyna flew to New York immediately. Richard informed the police and hired a private detective to find his daughter and then sent Florentyna back to Chicago after the police had assured her that they handled 220,000 missing persons cases every year with only one percent ending in any serious trouble, and most of those involved were children under fifteen. Richard was not convinced by police statistics.

  When Florentyna got back to Chicago she walked around in a daze, phoning Richard every hour, but he had no news for her. With a week to go, the polls showed Florentyna leading only 51 to 49, and Edward tried to make her concentrate on the campaign. But the words of Bob Buchanan kept coming back to her: “This place can only be a poor substitute for your family,” and she began to wonder if only…After a bad weekend during which Florentyna felt she had lots more votes than she had gained, Richard called in excitement to say that Annabel had been found and that she had been in New York the whole time.

  “Thank God,” said Florentyna, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, and resting in Mount Sinai Hospital.”

  “What happened?” asked Florentyna anxiously.

  “She had an abortion.”

  Florentyna flew back to New York that morning to be with her daughter. On the flight she thought she recognized a party worker sitting a few rows back: there was something about his smile. Once she had arrived at the hospital she discovered that Annabel had not even realized she had been reported missing. Edward begged Florentyna to return to Chicago because the media were continually asking where she was. Although he had managed to keep Annabel’s private life out of the newspapers, they were becoming highly suspicious of why Florentyna was in New York rather than Illinois. For the first time, she ignored Edward’s advice.

  Ralph Brooks was quick to leap in and suggest that she had returned to New York because there was a crisis at the Baron Group and that that had always been her first priority. With Edward pulling and Annabel pushing, Florentyna returned to Chicago on Monday night to find every paper in Illinois saying the election was too close to call.

  On Tuesday morning Florentyna read the headline she most dreaded: “Candidate’s Daughter Has Abortion.” The article that followed revealed every detail, even down to the bed Annabel was in. “Keep your head down and pray” was all Edward said as he dragged her through a nerve-racking day.

  Florentyna rose at six o’clock on Election Day and Edward drove her to as many polling places as she could reach in fourteen hours. At every stop, campaign workers waved blue-and-white “Kane for Senate” placards and handed out leaflets on Florentyna’s positions on the major issues. At one stop a voter asked Florentyna for her views on abortion. Florentyna looked at the woman indignantly and said, “I can assure you that my views haven’t changed,” before realizing that the question was totally innocent. Her workers were tireless in their efforts to get out every Kane supporter, and Florentyna didn’t stop working until the polls closed. She prayed that she had held on in the way Carter had against Ford in 1976. Richard flew in that night with news that Annabel had returned to Radcliffe and was now feeling fine.

  When Florentyna returned to the Baron, husband and wife sat alone in their suite. Three television sets were turned to the networks as the returns came in from all over the state deciding if Brooks or she would be chosen to oppose the Republican candidate in November. At eleven o’clock, Florentyna had a 2 percent lead. At twelve o’clock Brooks was one percent ahead. At two o’clock, Florentyna had edged back into the lead by less than one percent. At three o’clock she fell asleep in Richard’s arms. He did not wake her when he knew the outcome because he wanted her to sleep.

  A little later he nodded off himself and woke with a start to find her looking out the window, her fist clenched. The television kept flashing up the result: Ralph Brook
s selected as Democratic candidate for the Senate by 7,118 votes, a margin of less than half a percentage point. On the screen was a picture of Brooks waving and smiling to his supporters.

  Florentyna turned around and stared at the screen once more. Her eyes did not rest on the triumphant State’s Attorney but on a man standing directly behind him. Now she knew where she had seen that smile before.

  Florentyna’s career in politics had come to a halt. She was now out of Congress and would have to wait another two years before she could even hope to re-enter public life. After Annabel’s problems, she wondered if the time had come to return to the Baron Group and a more private existence. Richard didn’t agree.

  “I would be sorry if you gave up after all the time you’ve put into it.”

  “Perhaps that’s the point. If I hadn’t become so involved with my own life and taken a little more interest in Annabel, she might not be facing an identity crisis.”

  “An identity crisis. That’s the sort of garbage I’d expect to hear from one of her sociology professors, not from you. I haven’t noticed William collapsing under the strain of an ‘identity crisis.’ Darling, Annabel has had an affair and was careless; it’s as simple as that. If everyone who took a lover was considered abnormal, there would only be a few of us strange ones left. What she most needs at this moment is to be treated as an equal by you.”

  Florentyna dropped everything and took Annabel to Barbados. During long walks along the beach, she learned of the affair her daughter had had with a man at Vassar. Florentyna still couldn’t get used to the idea of men going to women’s colleges. Annabel wouldn’t name the man and tried to explain that although she still liked him, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him. “Did you marry the first man you went to bed with?” she asked. Florentyna didn’t reply immediately, and then told Annabel about Scott Roberts.

  “What a creep,” said Annabel after she had heard the story. “How lucky you were to find Dad in Bloomingdale’s.”

  “No, Annabel. As your father continually reminds me, he did the finding.”

  Mother and daughter grew closer together in those days than they had been for years. Richard and William joined them in the second week of the holiday and they spent fourteen days together getting plump and brown.

  Richard was delighted to find Annabel and Florentyna so relaxed in each other’s company, and touched when his daughter started referring to William as “my big brother.” Richard and Annabel regularly beat William and Florentyna at golf in the afternoons before spending long evenings chatting over dinner.

  When the holiday came to an end they were all sad to be returning home. Florentyna confessed that she did not feel like throwing herself back into the political fray, until Annabel insisted that the last thing she wanted was a mother who sat home and cooked.

  It felt strange to Florentyna that she would not be fighting a campaign herself that year. During her battle with Brooks for the Senate, the Democrats had selected Hugh Abbots, a capable young Chicago lawyer, to run for her seat in Congress. Some members of the committee admitted that they would have held up the decision if they thought Brooks had had the slightest chance of winning the party’s nomination for the Senate.

  Many voters asked Florentyna to run as an independent candidate, but she knew the party would not approve, especially as they would be looking for another senatorial representative in two years’ time: the other United States senator, David Rodgers, had repeatedly made it clear that he would not be running for re-election in 1984.

  Florentyna flew into Chicago to speak on behalf of Hugh Abbots on several occasions and was delighted when he won the seat, even though he captured it by only 3,223 votes.

  Florentyna faced the fact that she would now have to spend two years in the political wilderness, and it didn’t ease the pain when she read the Chicago Tribune’s headline the day after the election:

  BROOKS ROMPS HOME IN SENATE RACE

  The Future

  1982–1995

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  William first brought Joanna Cabot home at Christmas. Florentyna knew instinctively that they would be married, and not just because her father turned out to be a distant relative of Richard’s. Joanna was dark-haired, slim and graceful and shyly expressive of her obvious feelings for William. For his part, William was attentive and conspicuously proud of the young woman who stood quietly by his side. “I suppose I might have expected you to produce a son who has been educated in New York, lived in Washington and Chicago but ends up returning to Boston to choose his wife,” Florentyna teased Richard.

  “William is your son as well,” he reminded her. “And what makes you think he’ll marry Joanna?”

  Florentyna just laughed. “I predict Boston in the spring.”

  She turned out to be wrong: they had to wait until the summer.

  William was in his final year as an undergraduate and he had taken his business boards and was waiting anxiously to be accepted at the Harvard School of Business.

  “In my day,” said Richard, “you waited until you had finished school and made a little money before you thought about marriage.”

  “That just isn’t true, Richard. You left Harvard early to marry me and for several weeks afterwards I kept you.”

  “You never told me that, Dad,” said William.

  “Your father has what in politics is called a selective memory.”

  William left laughing.

  “I still think—”

  “They’re in love, Richard. Have you grown so old you can’t see what’s staring you in the face?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’re not yet fifty and you’re already acting like an old fuddy-duddy. William is almost the same age as you when you married me. Well, haven’t you anything to say?”

  “No. You’re just like all politicians: you keep interrupting.”

  The Kanes went to stay with the Cabots early in the new year and Richard immediately liked John Cabot, Joanna’s father, and was surprised that, with so many family friends in common, they had not yet met before. Joanna had two little sisters, who spent the weekend running around William.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Richard said that Saturday night in bed. “I think Joanna is just what William needs.”

  Florentyna put on an extreme mid-European accent and asked, “What if Joanna had been a little Polish immigrant who sold gloves in Bloomingdale’s?”

  Richard took Florentyna in his arms and said, “I would have told him not to buy three pairs of gloves because it would work out cheaper just to marry the girl.”

  Preparations for the forthcoming wedding seemed complicated and demanding to Florentyna, who remembered vividly how simply she and Richard had been married and how Bella and Claude had lugged the double bed up the stairs in San Francisco. Luckily Mrs. Cabot wanted to handle all the arrangements herself and whenever something was expected of the Kanes, Annabel was only too happy to leap forward as the family representative.

  In early January, Florentyna returned to Washington to clear out her office. Colleagues stopped and chatted with her as if she hadn’t left the House. Janet was waiting for her with a pile of letters, most of them saying how sorry they were that Florentyna would not be returning to Congress but hoping that she would run for the Senate again in two years’ time.

  Florentyna answered every one of them but couldn’t help wondering if something might go wrong in 1984 as well. If it did, that would finish her political career completely.

  Florentyna left the capital for New York, only to find herself getting in everyone’s way. The Baron Group and Lester’s were being competently run by Richard and Edward. The Group had changed considerably since Richard had implemented the many improvements suggested by McKinsey and Company. She was continually surprised by the new Baron of Beef restaurants that could now be found on every ground floor and thought she would never get used to the computer banks alongside the hairdresser’s in the hote
l lobby. When Florentyna went to see Gianni to check on the progress of the shops, he assumed she had only come in for a new dress.

  During those first few months away from Washington, Florentyna became more restless than she could remember. She traveled to Poland twice and could only feel despair for her countrymen as she looked around at the devastation, wondering where the Russians would strike next. Florentyna took advantage of these journeys to meet European leaders who continually referred to their fear that America was becoming more and more isolationist with each succeeding President.

  When she returned to America, once again the question of whether she should run for the Senate loomed in front of her. Janet, who had remained on Florentyna’s staff, began to discuss tactics with Edward Winchester which included regular trips to Chicago for Florentyna, who accepted any speaking engagements in Illinois that came her way. Florentyna felt relieved when Senator Rodgers called her over the Easter recess to say that he hoped she would run for his seat the following year and added that she could count on his backing.

  As Florentyna checked over the Chicago newspapers that were sent to her each week, she could not help noticing that Ralph Brooks was already making a name for himself in the Senate. He had somehow managed to get on the prestigious Foreign Relations Committee as well as the Agriculture Committee—so important to Illinois farmers. He was also the only freshman senator to be appointed to the Democratic Task Force on Regulatory Reform.

  It made her more determined, not less.

  William and Joanna’s wedding turned out to be one of the happiest days of Florentyna’s life. Her twenty-two-year-old son standing in tails next to his bride brought back to her memories of his father in San Francisco. The silver band hung loosely on his left wrist, and Florentyna smiled as she noticed the little scar on his right hand. Joanna, although she looked shy and demure by William’s side, had already rid her future husband of some of his more eccentric habits, among them several gaudy ties and the Fidel Castro mustache William had been so proud of before he had met her. Grandmother Kane, as everyone now referred to Kate, was looking more and more like a pale-blue battleship at full steam as she plowed through the guests, kissing some and allowing others—those few older than herself—to kiss her. At seventy-six she was still elegant, without a suggestion of a failing faculty. She was also the one member of the family who could remonstrate with Annabel and get away with it.