The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  After a memorable reception at the home of Joanna’s parents on Beacon Hill—it included four hours of dancing to the ageless music of the Lester Lanin orchestra—William and his bride flew off to Europe for their honeymoon and Richard and Florentyna returned to New York. Florentyna knew that the time was fast approaching when she would have to make an announcement about the Senate seat, and she decided to phone the retiring senator and seek his advice on how he would like her to word any statement.

  She called David Rodgers at his office in the Dirksen Building. As she dialed the number, it struck her how odd it was that they now saw so little of each other when only a few months earlier they had spent half of their lives within a two hundred yard radius. The senator wasn’t in, so she left a message to say that she had called. He did not return her call for several days and finally his secretary rang to explain that his schedule had been impossibly tight. Florentyna reflected on the fact that this wasn’t David Rodgers’s style. She hoped that she was just imagining the rebuff until she discussed with Edward what was going on.

  “There’s a rumor going around that he wants his wife to take over the seat,” he told her.

  “Betty Rodgers? But she’s always claimed she couldn’t abide public life. I can’t believe she’d choose to continue his now that David’s retiring.”

  “Well, don’t forget that since her children left home she’s been on the Chicago City Council. That’s been three years. Perhaps it’s given her a taste for higher things.”

  “How serious do you think she is?”

  “I don’t know, but a couple of phone calls and I can find out.”

  Florentyna found out even before Edward because she had a call from one of her ex-staffers in Chicago who said the Cook County party machine was talking about Mrs. Rodgers as if she were already the candidate.

  Edward called her back later the same day to say that he had discovered that the state committee was holding a caucus to consider putting Betty Rodgers’s name forward as the candidate, although the polls indicated that over eighty percent of the registered Democrats supported Florentyna as David Rodgers’s successor. “It doesn’t help,” added Edward, “that Senator Brooks is openly backing Betty Rodgers.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” said Florentyna. “What do you think my next move ought to be?”

  “I don’t think you can do anything at the moment. You have strong support on the committee and the outcome is very much in the balance, so perhaps it might be wise not to become too closely involved. Just go on working in Chicago and appear to remain above it all.”

  “But what if she’s chosen?”

  “Then you will have to run as an independent candidate and beat her.”

  “It’s almost impossible to overcome the party machine, as you reminded me a few months back, Edward.”

  “Truman did.”

  Florentyna heard a few minutes after the meeting was over that the committee had voted by a majority of 6 to 5 to put Betty Rodgers’s name forward as the official Democratic candidate for the Senate at a full caucus meeting later in the month. David Rodgers and Ralph Brooks had both voted against Florentyna.

  She couldn’t believe that only six people could make such an important decision and during the following week she had two unpleasant phone conversations, one with Rodgers and the other with Brooks, who both pleaded with her to put party unity before personal ambition. “The sort of hypocrisy you’d expect from a Democrat,” commented Richard.

  Many of Florentyna’s supporters begged her to fight, but she was not convinced, especially when the state chairman called and asked her to announce formally, for the unity of the party, that she would not be a candidate on this occasion. After all, he pointed out, Betty would probably only do one six-year term.

  That would be enough for Ralph Brooks, Florentyna thought.

  She listened to much advice over the next few days, but on a trip to Washington it was Bob Buchanan who told her to reread Julius Caesar more carefully.

  “The whole play?” asked Florentyna.

  “No, I would concentrate on Mark Antony if I were you, my dear.”

  Florentyna called the Democratic Party chairman and told him she was willing to come to the caucus and state that she was not a candidate but she was unwilling to endorse Betty Rodgers.

  The chairman readily accepted the compromise.

  The meeting was held ten days later at the Democratic State Central Committee in the Bismarck Hotel on West Randolph Street and when Florentyna arrived the hall was already packed. She could sense from the loud applause she received as she entered the room that the meeting might not go as smoothly as the committee had planned.

  Florentyna took her assigned seat on the platform at the end of the second row. The chairman sat in the middle of the front row behind a long table with two senators, Rodgers and Brooks, on his right and left. Betty Rodgers sat next to her husband and didn’t once look at Florentyna. The secretary and treasurer completed the front row. The chairman gave Florentyna a polite nod when she appeared. The other committee members sat in the second row with Florentyna. One of them whispered, “You were crazy not to put up a fight.”

  At eight o’clock the chairman invited David Rodgers to address the meeting. The senator had always been respected as a diligent worker for his constituents, but even his closest aides would not have described him as an orator. He started by thanking them for their support in the past and expressed the hope that they would now pass that loyalty on to his wife. He gave a rambling talk on his work during his twenty-four years as a senator and sat down to what could, at best, be described as polite applause.

  The chairman spoke next, outlining his reasons for proposing Betty Rodgers as the next candidate. “At least it will be easy for the voters to remember her name.” He laughed as did one or two people on the platform but surprisingly few in the body of the hall. He then went on to spend the next ten minutes expounding the virtues of Betty Rodgers and the work she had done as a city councillor. He spoke to a silent hall. And sat down to a smattering of applause. He waited a moment, then, in a perfunctory fashion, introduced Florentyna.

  She had made no notes because she wanted what she had to say to sound off the cuff, even though she had been rehearsing every word for the past ten days. Richard had wanted to accompany her, but she told him not to bother, because everything had been virtually decided upon before the first word was spoken. The truth was that she did not want him there because his support might cast doubt on her apparent innocence.

  When the chairman sat down, Florentyna came forward to the center of the stage and stood directly in front of Ralph Brooks.

  “Mr. Chairman, I have come to Chicago today to announce that I am not a candidate for the United States Senate.”

  She paused and there were cries of “Why not?” and “Who stopped you?”

  She went on as though she had heard nothing. “I have had the privilege of serving my district in Illinois for eight years in the United States House of Representatives and I look forward to working for the best interests of the people in the future. I have always believed in party unity—”

  “But not party fixing,” someone shouted.

  Once again, Florentyna ignored the interruption. “—so I shall be happy to back the candidate you select to be on the Democratic ticket,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

  An uproar started, amid which cries of “Senator Kane, Senator Kane” were clearly audible.

  David Rodgers looked pointedly at Florentyna as she continued. “To my supporters, I say that there may come another time and another place, but it will not be tonight, so let us remember in this key state that it is the Republicans we have to defeat, not ourselves. If Mrs. Rodgers becomes the next senator, I feel certain that she will serve the party with the same ability we have grown to expect from her husband. Should the Republicans capture the seat, you can be assured that I shall devote myself to seeing we win it back in six years’ time. Whatever the out
come, the committee can depend on my support in this crucial state during election year.”

  Florentyna quickly resumed her seat in the second row as her supporters cheered and cheered.

  When the chairman had brought the hall to order, which he tried to do as quickly as possible, he called upon the next United States Senator from Illinois, Mrs. Betty Rodgers, to address the meeting. Until then, Florentyna had kept her head bowed, but she could not resist glancing up at her adversary. Betty Rodgers clearly had not been prepared for any opposition and looked in an agitated state as she fidgeted with her notes. She read a prepared speech, sometimes almost in a whisper, and although it was well researched the delivery made her husband sound like Cicero. Florentyna felt sad and embarrassed for her and almost despised the committee for putting Betty Rodgers through such an ordeal. She began to wonder to what extremes Ralph Brooks would go to keep her out of the Senate. When Betty Rodgers sat down she was shaking like jelly, and Florentyna quietly left the platform and stepped out of a side door so that she would no longer embarrass them. She hailed a cab and asked the driver to take her to O’Hare Airport.

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Kane,” came the quick reply. “I hope you’re going to run for the Senate again. You’ll win the seat easy this time.”

  “No, I shall not be running,” Florentyna said flatly. “The Democratic candidate will be Betty Rodgers.”

  “Who’s she?” asked the taxi driver.

  “Senator Rodgers’s wife.”

  “What’s she know about the job? Her husband wasn’t that hot,” the driver said testily, and drove the rest of the way in silence. It gave Florentyna the opportunity to reflect that she would have to run as an independent candidate if she was ever going to have any chance of winning a seat in the Senate. Her biggest anxiety was splitting the vote with Betty Rodgers and letting a Republican take the seat. The party would never forgive her if that was the eventual outcome. It would spell the end of her political career. Brooks now looked as if he were going to win either way. She cursed herself for not beating him when she had the chance.

  The cab came to a halt outside the terminal building. As she paid the driver he said, “It still doesn’t make sense to me. I’ll tell you, lady, my wife thinks you’re going to be President. I can’t see it myself, because I could never vote for a woman.”

  Florentyna laughed.

  “No offense meant, lady.”

  “No offense taken,” she said, and doubled his tip.

  She checked her watch and made her way to the boarding gate: another thirty minutes before takeoff. She bought copies of Time and Newsweek from the newsstand. Bush on both covers: the first shots of the Presidential campaign were being fired. She looked up at the telemonitor to check the New York gate number: “12C.” It amused her to think of the extremes the officials at O’Hare went to in order to avoid “Gate 13.” She sat down in a red plastic swivel chair and began to read the profile on George Bush. She became so engrossed in the article that she did not hear the loudspeaker. The message was repeated: “Mrs. Florentyna Kane, please go to the nearest white courtesy telephone.”

  Florentyna continued reading about the Zapata Oil Company executive who had gone through the House, the Republican National Committee, the CIA and the U.S. Mission to China to become Vice President. A TWA passenger representative came over and touched her lightly on the shoulder. She looked up.

  “Mrs. Kane, isn’t that for you?” the young man said, pointing at a loudspeaker.

  Florentyna listened. “Yes, it is, thank you.” She walked across the lounge to the nearest phone. At times like this, she always imagined that one of the children had been involved in an accident and even now she had to remind herself that Annabel was over twenty-one and William was married. She picked up the phone.

  Senator Rodgers’s voice came over loud and clear. “Florentyna, is that you?”

  “Yes it is,” she replied.

  “Thank God I caught you. Betty has decided she doesn’t want to run after all. She feels the campaign would be too great a strain on her. Can you come back before this place is torn apart?”

  “What for?” asked Florentyna, her mind in a whirl.

  “Can’t you hear what’s going on here?” said Rodgers. Florentyna listened to cries of “Kane, Kane, Kane,” as clear as Rodgers’s own voice.

  “They want to endorse you as the official candidate and no one is going to leave until you return.”

  Florentyna’s fingers clenched into a fist. “I am not interested, David.”

  “But Florentyna, I thought—”

  “Not unless I have the backing of the committee and you personally propose my name in nomination.”

  “Florentyna, anything you say. Betty always thought you were the right person for the job. It was just that Ralph Brooks pushed her into it.”

  “Ralph Brooks?”

  “Yes, but Betty now realizes that was nothing more than a self-serving exercise. So for God’s sake come back.”

  “I’m on my way.” Florentyna ran down the corridor to the taxi stand. A cab shot up to her side.

  “Where to this time, Mrs. Kane?”

  She smiled. “Back to where we started.”

  “I suppose you know where you’re going, but I can’t understand how an ordinary guy like me is meant to put any faith in politicians. I just don’t know.”

  Florentyna prayed that the driver would be silent on his return journey so that she could compose her thoughts, but this time he treated her to a diatribe: on his wife, whom he ought to leave; his mother-in-law, who wouldn’t leave him; his son, who was on drugs and didn’t work, and his daughter, who was living in a California commune run by a religious cult. “What a frigging country—beg your pardon, Mrs. Kane,” he said as they drew up beside the hall. God, how she had wanted to tell him to shut up. She paid him for the second time that evening.

  “Maybe I will vote for you after all when you run for President,” he said. She smiled. “And I could work on the people who ride this cab—there must be at least three hundred each week.”

  Florentyna shuddered—another lesson learned.

  She tried to collect her thoughts as she entered the building. The audience had risen from their seats and were cheering wildly. Some clapped their hands above their heads while others stood on chairs. The first person to greet her on the platform was Senator Rodgers, and then his wife, who gave Florentyna a smile of relief. The chairman shook her hand heartily. Senator Brooks was nowhere to be seen: sometimes she really hated politics. She turned to face her supporters in the hall and they cheered even louder: sometimes she really loved politics.

  Florentyna stood in the center of the stage, but it was five minutes before the chairman could bring the meeting to order. When there was complete silence, she simply said, “Thomas Jefferson once remarked: ‘I have returned sooner than I expected.’ I am happy to accept your nomination for the United States Senate.”

  She was not allowed to deliver a further word that night as they thronged around her. A little after twelve-thirty she crept into her room at the Chicago Baron. Immediately she picked up the phone and started dialing 212, forgetting that it was one-thirty in New York.

  “Who is it?” said a drowsy voice.

  “Mark Antony.”

  “Who?”

  “I come to bury Betty, not to praise her.”

  “Jessie, have you gone mad?”

  “No, but I’ve been endorsed as the Democratic candidate for the United States Senate.” Florentyna explained how it had come about.

  “George Orwell said a lot of terrible things were going to happen this year, but he made no mention of you waking me up in the middle of the night just to announce you are going to be a senator.”

  “I just thought you would like to be the first to know.”

  “Perhaps you’d better call Edward.”

  “Do you think I ought to? You’ve already reminded me that it’s one-thirty in New York.”

  “I know it i
s, but why should I be the only person you wake up in the middle of the night so that you can misquote Julius Caesar?”

  Senator Rodgers kept his word and backed Florentyna throughout her whole campaign. For the first time in years she was free of pressures from Washington and could devote all her energies to an election. This time there were no thunderbolts or meteorites that could not be contained, although Ralph Brooks’s lukewarm support on one occasion and implied praise of her Republican opponent on another did not help her cause.

  The main interest in the country that year was the Presidential campaign. The major surprise was the choice of the Democratic Presidential candidate, a man who had come from nowhere to beat Walter Mondale and Edward Kennedy in the primaries with his program dubbed the “Fresh Approach.” The candidate visited Illinois on no less than six occasions during the campaign, appearing with Florentyna every time.

  On the day of the election, the Chicago papers said once again that the Senate race was too close to call. The pollsters were wrong and the loquacious cab driver was right, because at eight-thirty Central time, the Republican candidate conceded an overwhelming victory. Later the pollsters tried to explain away their statistical errors by speculating that many men would not admit they were going to vote for a woman as senator. Either way, it didn’t matter, because the new President-elect’s telegram said it all: