by Susan Wiggs
“She just walked in. This way.” Sonnet tried to imagine how this would feel to her mother, meeting a woman with whom she had nothing in common, except that they’d both had Laurence Jeffries’s children.
Angela seemed to revel in her role. She was the ideal wife of a candidate to the last inch of her shadow, in a St. John Knits suit and low-heeled shoes, her hair and makeup flawless. As she approached Angela, Sonnet wished she was wearing something more conservative than the vintage jacket and boots.
“Sonnet, I was hoping I’d see you here. How are you?” Angela gave a warm smile. She was well-mannered and had always treated Sonnet with a peculiar aloof kindness. She took Sonnet’s hand. “And look at your hair. It’s so…short.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“I love it,” Angela scolded her. “It’s a big change for you, that’s all. And Sonnet, I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. If there’s anything I can do—”
“Angela, this is my mom, Nina Bellamy.” Sonnet spoke up quickly, before things got too awkward.
She shouldn’t have worried about awkwardness. Angela Jeffries was the soul of tact, having long experience as a high-ranking officer’s wife. Nina had been in local politics, and her natural warmth and charm served her well.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking hands with Angela. “I hope you’re enjoying Avalon and Willow Lake.”
“Beautiful town,” Angela assured her. “Unfortunately, Laurence’s schedule doesn’t leave much leeway for tourism.”
“Maybe you’ll visit when you’ve got a bit more time.”
“I’d like that.” Angela paused, and took Nina’s hand again. “I mean it. I really would like that.”
“I’m glad we’re finally getting to meet,” Nina said. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality to Sonnet when she was studying abroad.”
Angela sent Sonnet a gracious smile. “It was my pleasure. How lucky that we were stationed at NATO headquarters when she was doing her internship in Germany.”
Sonnet wondered if she really believed she was lucky to have met her husband’s child by another woman. Angela had never been anything but accepting, though she’d kept her barriers up. Sonnet hadn’t minded. Her focus had been to find her way to her father, and the fact that Angela had opened her home meant the world to her.
While Angela and Nina chatted, Sonnet saw a flash of coral in her peripheral vision—Courtney Proctor. Across the room, she was having an animated discussion with a crew member. Several cameras lenses pointed in her direction. Sonnet felt a twist of nausea in her gut.
“Mom—”
“Mrs. Jeffries, it’s time to take a seat,” someone said, ushering Angela away.
She offered Sonnet an apologetic look. “Let’s try to catch up later,” she said.
“Of course.” Sonnet watched her go, knowing neither of them would try very hard.
Taking her mother’s arm, she moved toward the auditorium, hoping the interest from the reporter didn’t amount to anything. How could it, she wondered, when the issues of the day were so pressing? Her father wanted to work on jobs, education, the environment and crime; that was where the focus needed to be.
“So that’s Angela,” Nina mused. “She seems like the ideal candidate’s wife.”
“Somehow I sense that’s not a compliment.”
“I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t get a sense of her as a separate entity from Laurence.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Angela was a hard woman to know, seeming comfortable in her role as an adjunct to her husband’s career. Sometimes Sonnet wondered if Mrs. Jeffries ever wanted anything for herself, something separate from Laurence and their two daughters. The idea of giving herself completely to the career of a husband was a foreign concept to Sonnet.
She found their seats in the auditorium, now swarming with observers and press. “Feeling okay?” she asked her mom.
“I’m fine.”
Sonnet had taken to carrying granola bars wherever she went in case her mom needed something. “Hungry?” she asked, offering a lemon coconut bar to Nina.
“Not right now, thanks.”
Sonnet heard this far too much from her mother. She bit her lip, knowing it was not the time to argue.
The president of the local chapter of the League of Women Voters came up to the center podium to introduce the candidates. Sonnet could not deny a surge of pride as Laurence Jeffries came out, looking larger than life and supremely confident as he took his place at another podium. The moderator read a brief bio that touched on the high points of his career—West Point graduate, theater commander in the first Gulf War, head of security at NATO, Undersecretary General for UN Peacekeeping Operations, advisor to the governor’s economic development council. His opponent, Johnny Delvecchio, came from the world of commerce, having made a fortune in meatpacking and having served in city and then state governments for the past decade. Both men were very different, yet equally determined to capture the Senate seat in the fall.
It felt so strange to Sonnet, having her father in town. Her two worlds had always been entirely separate—Avalon was the home of her heart, small and protected, insulated by its remote location on Willow Lake. The campaign felt weirdly invasive now, as though a boundary had been breached.
The opening statements were fairly bland declarations from both men. Sonnet gave the edge to her father, who had a better stage presence and voice. Delvecchio was a bit of a drone. Nina leaned over to Sonnet. “My eyes are glazing over,” she confessed.
“Pretty boring stuff,” Sonnet agreed.
They sat through discourses on improving the economy and creating jobs, the candidates’ past performance in their respective fields. Then toward the end of the hour, came the question Sonnet had been dreading, the one she’d been praying would not surface.
“General Jeffries,” said Courtney Proctor in her well-modulated voice, “given your stated commitment to conduct in the military, how do you reconcile your personal indiscretions with your current views? I’m referring specifically to the fact that while you were at West Point, you fathered an illegitimate child with a local girl right here in the town of Avalon.”
Sonnet forgot to breathe. Her mother grabbed her hand and held on tight. “Here we go,” she murmured. Sonnet looked around wildly for Orlando but couldn’t see him.
General Jeffries seemed to grow taller at the podium. “It’s disappointing that a private matter that was resolved decades ago would enter into a serious discussion of today’s issues. I would respectfully request that we return the debate to the matters at hand.”
Ms. Proctor seemed unfazed. “It’s not private if the issue speaks to a candidate’s conduct in—”
A squeal of electronic feedback shrieked through the auditorium. Then the sound system failed, leaving the reporter mouthing words no one could hear. There was a scramble of activity around the sound console at the back of the auditorium. Meanwhile, the audience moved restlessly and people started to leave.
“This might be a good time to make our exit,” Sonnet murmured, and led the way out. As they passed the sound console, she noticed a pale flash—Zach, dealing with equipment. What was he doing here? The feedback squealed again as she and her mom moved past. They made their way to the foyer.
“Are you all right?” she asked her mom.
“Fine. What about you?”
“It’s just so…awkward. I’m sorry, Mom. This shouldn’
t have come up.”
Zach appeared, burdened with some video gear. “Guess they’re wrapping up,” he said easily. “Party’s over.”
“What just happened?” Sonnet asked him.
He shrugged, all innocence. “Technical difficulties. It happens. What’re you gonna do?”
“Zach, did you—”
“Ms. Bellamy, do you have any comment on the general’s sex scandal?” asked Courtney Proctor, pushing forward with a microphone angled toward Nina.
“I beg your pardon?” said Nina.
“And Ms. Romano,” the reporter continued, “as the illegitimate child of General Jeffries, do you have any comment?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Zach said with calm intensity. “So back off. Go find some relevant news to report.”
“It’s certainly relevant that General Jeffries has a troubled past. And isn’t it true, Ms. Romano, that you were forced to leave your post at UNESCO due to—”
“Lady, what part of ‘back off’ do you not understand?” Zach took Nina gently by the elbow and steered her toward the exit. Sonnet followed, her face burning, and she clenched her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret.
Nina’s cheeks looked hollowed and pale, and her hands shook visibly. Sonnet was incredibly grateful for Zach. She hadn’t seen him arrive, but as so often was the case, he showed up right when she needed him. He handled the situation with calm aplomb, accompanying them to the parking lot.
Maybe, thought Sonnet, just maybe, they were getting back to the friendship that had faltered because they’d slept together. The idea should have brought a sense of relief, but instead, she caught herself thinking of that night, and wondering if friendship would ever be enough.
Chapter Sixteen
“Sonnet!” Orlando hurried over, for once looking harried, his shirttail out and his briefcase about to spill over. “Wait up.”
“Friend of yours?” Zach asked Sonnet, sizing up Orlando.
“Orlando, this is Zach Alger,” Sonnet said.
Zach greeted him with a brief handshake. “I think the ladies would like to leave right about now.”
“Of course.” Orlando took a breath. “Nina, I’m sorry about that. Live events like this can be pretty unpredictable.”
“I’ll be all right,” Nina said. “Zach, would you mind walking me to my car?”
“Of course.”
“Unpredictable?” Sonnet asked Orlando. “You knew this was going to come up.”
“I was hoping it wouldn’t.” He watched Zach go. “Who the hell is that and how are you his business?”
“He’s my oldest and best friend and…” She stopped, remembering her earlier thoughts about sleeping with Zach. “I don’t really need to explain him to you.”
“You don’t need to, but I want to know all the people in your life. And with all due respect, he didn’t seem all that friendly.”
“We’ve had our ups and downs. Zach and I—”
“Wait a second. Zach Alger. Why do I know that name?”
“You’re looking at me funny. Why are you looking at me funny?”
“Your father mentioned him. Said he was trouble.”
She recalled confessing Zach’s troubles to her father, back when Matthew Alger was arrested and Zach declared himself an emancipated minor. Her dad had seemed sympathetic at the time. “Like I said, I’ve known Zach forever, and I’m sure I’ve spoken to my father about him. He’s a good guy. He’s gone through some rough times and his own father is no prize, but Zach is definitely not trouble. If anything, he made the situation in there a lot more tolerable.” She felt a fresh rush of gratitude for what Zach had done with the sound system.
“What’s he do around here?”
“He’s an award-winning filmmaker.”
“Ah.”
“Why ‘ah’? Why do you say it like that?”
“‘Award-winning filmmaker’ is usually a euphemism for ‘My day job requires me to wear a white paper hat.’”
“Very funny. Zach’s working on the Flick production. He’s actually the chief videographer.”
“So you work with him.”
“Every day. And excuse me for pointing this out, but you’ve changed the subject. My mom and I were just ambushed by some stupid, ignorant political operatives, so I don’t really need the twenty questions right now.”
“I’m sorry about that. I am. I wish that hadn’t happened.”
“But you knew it was going to. Or something like it. Couldn’t you have stopped it, or at least moved the event to another town?”
“That would have made us seem afraid to make an appearance. We needed to prove to the opposition that we don’t have anything to hide. We had to show that your father’s willing to face up to his past mistakes.”
“Ah, that word. Love that, Orlando. Love being called a mistake.”
“It’s not my word. Good God, if you were a mistake, let’s hope people will make more of them.”
She could still picture the expression on her mother’s face, still feel the pounding of her own heart when they were confronted. She was horrified by the encounter and the questions and innuendo. “What’s next?” she asked him. “Should my mom and I brace ourselves for more attacks?”
He touched her shoulder. “I don’t have a crystal ball, but I’m guessing this will blow over. Nina is dealing with cancer. And is expecting a baby to boot. I’m sorry they harassed her, but now we can make them look like the anti-Christ for intruding in her private life.”
“My God, you sound glad my mom’s sick.”
“Come on, Sonnet. What do you take me for?”
“All right, that wasn’t fair. I’m just so creeped out by all of this…attention. I do want my father to reach his goal, but I hate the fact that my mom was thrown under the bus.”
“I’m sorry. Really. Let’s hope we’ve heard the last of it. We’re going to focus on keeping the media on message and getting your father elected. It’s his dream, Sonnet, and it’s a big one, but it could be the start of something amazing, not just for him, but for everyone. He needs our full support.”
“Why do people have to get stepped on in order for him to reach his dream?”
“I didn’t create the system.” He gave her a hug. All around them, crews were rolling up and preparing to leave town. “I have to get going,” he added. “Call you later?”
“Sure, of course.”
“I’d like to talk about us,” he said.
“What about us?”
“Not here, though,” he said. “And not now. But soon. The two of us are really good together, and I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she said quietly, and watched him head toward the campaign bus. She felt a niggling confusion, not knowing if it was Orlando she missed, or their life in the city—the bustle and excitement surrounding her father. For now, though, she belonged here.
* * *
She saw Orlando stop and talk to Shane Gilmore, who was carrying a Delvecchio for Senate sign. He set down his sign and handed something to Orlando. Sonnet felt a chill of premonition. When Gilmore walked away, she hurried over to Orlando.
“What was that about?” she asked him.
He hesitated, just for a second, which wasn’t like him. Orlando never hesitated; he was always decisive. “Some local guy—do you know him?”
“Kind of. He’s the bank president. He once dated my mom, but it didn’t work out. He has a habit of making trouble for people
who trouble him.” And he saw Zach and me the morning after the boathouse. She didn’t say so aloud, but even now, as she stood here with the man she was supposed to be making a future with, she felt a powerful yearning—for Zach. “What did he want?”
“He… Nothing. Just wanted to remind me that your father is slipping in the polls. Don’t worry, it’s nothing. A head game, that’s all.” Orlando checked his watch. “Listen, I can’t stay. I really need to go.”
“You do,” she said, and a very strange sense of clarity swept through her, like the sunlight slicing through the clouds. She thought about the conversation she’d had earlier with Jezebel, and she thought about Orlando’s words. I really need to go.
“Before you take off,” she said, “there’s something I have to say. You’ve been really great, but…you and I…it’s not working.”
He scowled at her. “What’s that supposed to mean? Look, I realize your mom’s illness has been hard on you, and your decision to give up on your career is hard on us, but—”
“There is no ‘us,’” she said, and a wave of regret came over her. “I wanted there to be. I tried my best. But things between us haven’t felt right in a long time. Maybe they were never right, and we just didn’t want to admit it.”
“Oh, come on, Sonnet. Who the hell have you been talking to? Your friend Zach? He looks at you like you’re a lamb chop. Jezebel? What, are you starstruck by a woman under house arrest? Nice, Sonnet.”
She let him fume, resisting her old habit of mollifying him and telling him what he wanted to hear. “I feel as if I don’t even know why we’re together,” she said quietly, though she wasn’t sure he was even listening. “Maybe I never did.” The admission was painful. The most important thing about Orlando had not been her feelings for him. The most important thing about Orlando had been that her father approved of him. “I feel terrible about this, because I thought I knew what I wanted—from myself, and from us, but I didn’t, not until now. I finally know my own mind,” she added. “I know what my heart is telling me to do.”