“I know!” he agreed, grinning even though a part of him was quite annoyed about Sally spotting that part of it. “It does make life a bit more difficult, that's for sure.”
She shook her head and knew it was time to give up the argument.
Sally had spent most of her childhood having these kinds of “discussions” with her father. And while they'd turned her into a serious debater who could hold her own on any legislative floor in the land, they weren't exactly conducive to household peace.
“All right then,” she replied with a sigh, then hoped her father hadn't noticed. “When do you need the finished version?”
“End of the day.” he replied. “I'd like to get it on the floor before the close of session.”
Sally rolled her eyes, another small gesture she hoped her father didn't see. Ever the strategist, she knew there was a method to the way he was timing the bill. Bills introduced late in the day were read by legislators with tired eyes, which meant there was a better chance for provisions like this one to get through without being spotted.
“I can do that,” she said, then gave her father a wry smile. “You're lucky mother isn't around to see this. . .goodness knows what she'd think.”
Harlan snorted derisively. “She'd think it was necessary for the political process,” he fired back. “Your mother understood what she was getting into when she married me, and she understood how things worked as well.”
Once again, he puffed up his chest, which signified to Sally that he was about to go into what she called “orator mode.” “Your mother knew this was the way to do things if you want to get things done,” he concluded, smiling triumphantly.
Exactly, Sally thought to herself. And that was why her mother ended up drinking herself to death.
“Just about done,” Sally said, unwilling to tell her father how uncomfortable she was at having him staring over her shoulder at the typewriter.
“Good!” Harlan said. “This really needs to get out on the floor before the end of session.”
Sally tapped out the last sentence, hating the fact that no one would read this part, the fine print about the farmers. She had to force herself to concentrate so that everything would come out right, and Sally was biting her tongue to keep from giving her father a serious lashing about what they were doing with this land deal.
“There!” she said, feeling her father's breath on the back of her neck and detecting a whiff of whiskey in it. Sally knew that Harlan was prone to taking a nip toward the end of the day, and she'd always strongly suspected that had helped tip her mother into alcoholism.
Sally tugged gently to extract the final version from the typewriter, knowing her father was about to rip it out in total haste and probably tear it in half in the process.
She looked back at her father, seeing the eagerness in his expression and she reminded herself of how much she loved him.
“Want me to take it down to the floor for you?” Sally asked.
“If you don't mind,” he replied, giving her his sweetest smile, the one Harlan used to broker his most advantageous deals. Then he put his hand on her shoulder, and that's when Sally knew there was another request coming, one that made her shiver.
“You can just give it to Jack Haversham,” he said unctuously.
Ugh. Haversham was her father's bright young assistant, and Harlan was grooming him for a spot as a junior legislator. Her father had been trying to make them a couple for months now, an idea that Sally hated with all her heart and soul.
Jack Haversham was a Boston blue blood, a New England import her father had spotted as soon as he moved to Maryland to establish residency for his up-and-coming political career. He was handsome, bright and a brilliant legislator-to-be, and any woman would have been happy to have him as a prospective husband.
Except for Sally.
She'd had several conversations early on with Jack after her father had introduced him, and Sally was convinced he had the soul of a vampire. In other words, he didn't have one.
Moreover, she was convinced he'd eventually become as corrupt as her father, and Sally could already see the seeds of that corruption being planted in their planning and interactions.
“I'll run this right down,” she said, doing her best to try and make her smile look genuine. “Be right back.”
“Oh, take your time!” her father said jovially. “You can even let Jack take you to dinner if you'd like, once you two wrap things up together.”
Sally rolled her eyes, then headed downstairs from her father's office on the third floor to the legislative floor. Hopefully she could manage to avoid Jack and just leave it at his seat, but Sally knew she'd probably have to stick around for a few minutes and explain the changes that had been made from the last version of the bill.
And she definitely wanted to get that done as quickly as possible.
“Sally!” Jack said, just as she thought she was going to be able to slip away unnoticed. “I'm glad I caught you.”
A part of Sally wanted to bolt for the aisle, then sprint up the stairs to get away from him. She knew that would have repercussions, though, so Sally held up and turned to him, giving Jack a smile she hoped look sincere.
“Jack,” she said. “It's good to see you.”
Sally immediately hoped God would forgive her for the little white lie because it was a social nicety, but it had the desired effect. Jack grinned at her, preening slightly, and Sally nearly shook her head at the sight of such raw, naked male ego.
“Is this the bill your father wants passed?” he said, looking at the sheet of paper on his chair.
“The very one,” Sally nodded. “Should be all set and ready to go.”
“Great!” he said, scooping it up and giving the bill a quick scan. “Perfect timing. . .final roll call for the last round of votes starts in about ten minutes or so.”
“Well, that's good,” she replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I'm sure father will be quite pleased if it goes through.”
“Not if, when,” he said, giving her that ingratiating smile he used on his fellow legislators, the one Sally hated so much. “It's all about having confidence.”
And greasing the political wheels, she thought to herself, another expression Harlan used all the time that she hated with all her heart.
“Well, if there's nothing else you need. . .,” Sally said, wanting to get as far from him as she could as she could.
Jack finished looking the bill over, frowning slightly. “Well, if you don't mind,” he began, “How about if you just stick around for a few minutes while I read it over once more to be sure?”
This was a ploy, as sure as Jack Haversham was a political animal. He wanted more time to sweet talk her, which he'd been doing for a while, and Sally knew it was just a matter of moments before the inevitable dinner invitation arrived.
“I suppose I could,” Sally replied, not bothering to hide the flatness in her voice. “But I went through it several times, including once with Harlan before I came down here.”
“Well, it never hurts to do one last double check,” he said, motioning for her to sit and clearly enjoying the control he had over her.
Reluctantly, Sally planted herself in the chair next to Jack's, and she began looking around. She wanted to make it absolutely clear to Jack that she wanted no part of hanging around on the floor with him.
Sally kept thinking he'd take the hint and stop with the dinner invitations, but she also knew how obtuse he was, and the thought of his relentlessness was too depressing for words.
Jack took his time, and the longer he spent reading over the short bill, the more tempted Sally was to just walk out on him.
Finally, he looked up. “OK, this looks good,” he said, motioning to one of her father's flunkies to take the bill and file it with the legislative clerk. “Could use a bit of sharpening up, but it should suit the cause just fine.”
Jack laughed at his own lame joke, and Sally bit her tongue. She knew there was nothing wrong with the bill at
all, and she'd spent the day making sure the writing was as sharp as a tack, at least for legalese. Sally knew Jack would take credit for that, and the thought of it made her blood boil.
“So. . .are you doing anything once the session's over?” Jack said, finally about to deliver the inevitable invitation.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied, trying desperately to make it clear how disinterested she was. “I'm having dinner with father.”
“Huh,” Jack muttered. “He told me he was going to have drinks with Edgar Whitlock, the judge. In fact, Harlan said it was high on his priority list. . .something to do with this land deal that he wouldn't go into.”
Sally felt herself blushing furiously, thinking about her father's endless manipulations and how much she hated them. She tried to speed her mind up at the end of the long day, desperate to get out of this.
“Hmm,” she said, cupping her chin in her hands. “Perhaps it's a misunderstanding. . .I could have sworn he said we were on for dinner. I should go upstairs and double check with him.”
With that, Sally suddenly stood up, sliding into the aisle before Jack had a chance to react. She'd pulled this trick a couple of times before, and she knew how sneaky it was, but unfortunately it was the only way to counter her father's tactics when he and Jack double-teamed her.
“But. . .Sally,” Jack said, obviously flustered by her sudden move. “Wait! I really think we need to sit down and get to know each other!”
Sally suddenly developed a case of selective deafness, walking up the aisle as if she hadn't heard him. She hiked her dress up slightly so she could pick up her pace, gathering speed as she went.
As she continued to walk, Sally reminded herself of her mantra: don't look back. She knew Jack would be upset about what she'd done, and she also knew he'd almost certainly talk to her father about it.
But right at the moment, none of that mattered. Suddenly Sally felt as if she could breathe again, and she knew it had nothing to do with the heavy, dense air on the legislative floor, which was laced with noxious cigar smoke.
Sally kept going, and once she hit the stairs she forced herself to slow down a bit, knowing she'd successfully made her escape.
She had no idea what her evening held—probably holed up for a night of reading the classic books Sally so loved. For the moment, though, Sally knew one thing and one thing only:
She was free.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Sally realized how tired she was. The endless verbal fencing with her father was quite draining, and there were times when it really caught up to her.
And this was one of those times.
Fortunately, though, Sally was about to get a change of pace. She saw a hint of a bustle heading around the corner, and she knew it could only be one person.
Lisa Freeman. Her one and only best friend.
Lisa was definitely a blessing in her life. For starters, she was the only other woman who was doing what Sally did.
They'd met on the legislative floor via a set of circumstances that were sheer happenstance. Sally had noticed one of the legislators leering at Lisa, who was quite fetching, and he quickly went from leering to propositioning her.
Sally had stepped in, grabbing Lisa suddenly by the elbow and dragging her off, telling the man that her father needed to see Lisa about an “urgent legislative matter.”
They immediately bolted from the building and went out for tea together, and that phrase ended up becoming a running joke between them. Lisa said she'd been Sally's “damsel in distress,” forcing Sally to rescue her from the clutches of “that evil, dastardly cad.”
Sally knew she could use a humor booster like that right now, so she forced herself to pick up her pace so she could catch Lisa.
“Got a minute?” Sally asked when she pulled alongside Lisa.
“Sure, absolutely,” Lisa replied, pulling up and slowing down when she realized who it was. She stopped and turned to her, recognizing immediately that Sally had had a rough day when she saw the lines and creases on her face.
“Oh dear,” Lisa said, her voice thick with concern. “I know that look.”
“Yes,” Sally said, shaking her head in resignation. “It's definitely been one of those days.”
“Harlan?” she asked.
“Yes,” Sally replied, looking down at the floor. “Jack Haversham, too.”
“Ugh,” Lisa grunted, and Sally smiled immediately at how out of place the unladylike noise sounded in the hallowed halls of the legislature. “Him again.”
“Indeed,” Sally said, forcing the best smile she could manage. “I could definitely use a sympathetic ear. . .maybe even a shoulder to cry on.”
Lisa grinned. “Well, you know both are always at your disposal,” she said.
“And I definitely need them right now,” Sally affirmed.
Lisa cocked her head. “I'm officially done for the day,” she said.
“Tea?”
“Absolutely!” Sally said, smiling.
As soon as they left the State House, both Sally and Lisa were able to relax. This, too, was another a running joke between the two friends that involved various snide remarks and retorts about the presence of too many ambitious men in too small a place.
“Well, now,” Lisa said, taking a deep breath. “That's much better.”
“Amen to that,” Sally agreed. “Shall we do Lucinda's?”
“Without a doubt,” Lisa said, referring to the small tea shop that had become their meeting place. It was a tiny, but more than welcome alternative to the various bars and restaurants frequented by their male counterparts.
“So how was your day?” Sally asked as they turned the corner to head for Lucinda's. “Were you dodging a hail of libidinous legislators?”
“Not so much,” Lisa giggled. “Not a bad one at all, actually. . .believe it or not I actually got a helpful bill passed today.”
“Really?” Sally asked, more than slightly incredulous. “That is a true cause for celebration.”
“Without a doubt,” Lisa said. “If we were senators, we'd be half in the bag by now.”
“Instead we're going to enjoy a nice cup of tea,” Sally mused. “Quite a contrast.”
“One I continue to savor,” Lisa said, studying Sally as she opened the shop door for her. “So I take it you had a bit of a rough one?”
“Yes and no,” Sally said, walking in and heading straight for their favorite table. “Same nonsense, different day.”
“Jack and Harlan?”
“None other,” Sally replied, nodding. “My infamous tag team hall of horrors.”
“What did they do this time?”
“Took a bunch of farmers out of the legislative loop,” Sally began. “And they'll take their land soon, too. Eminent domain, courtesy of the mill owners.”
She sighed. “Just another day at the office, I suppose.”
“I'm sorry,” Lisa said, reaching across to touch her shoulder as the owner arrived with their usual order of tea. “And the rest of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Lisa said, smirking. “The good ol' legislative press.”
“Ah,” Sally said, nodding and smiling slyly. “Well, it's definitely on.”
“So Jack's still trying to invite you out to dinner?”
“Every day, nearly, without fail,” Sally replied. “And father remains fully in his corner.”
“He's not giving up, is he?” Lisa asked, still concerned.
“Not that I can tell,” Sally said, sighing. “He'll have me marry that man, come you-know-what or high water.”
“I'd probably take either of those compared to spending a lifetime with Jack Haversham,” Lisa mused.
“Me, too,” Sally agreed, toasting her friend with her tea cup.
They looked around, enjoying the cozy intimacy of the tea shop. The relaxed environment had saved them both on a dozen occasions, and neither knew what they'd do without it.
“S
o. . .,” Lisa said after the brief conversational pause. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea,” Sally responded. “I feel as if I'm caught in a vice, watching someone slowly tighten the cursed thing.”
“I know,” Lisa said. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“It's all right,” she said, managing a small smile. “I've gotten used to the fact that there's basically nothing I can do.”
Lisa smiled at her, shaking her head back and forth.
“Not true,” she said.
“Huh?”
Lisa's grin grew. “That's where you're definitely wrong. . .I think I've found an option for you.”
Sally took a sip of tea, then looked around. She felt her heart and spirits lift slightly, and she wondered what it would be like to regain the optimistic perspective she used to have before her father began to drag her into his tight little web of corruption.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“This,” Lisa said, reaching into her purse to pull out what appeared to be a tattered sheaf of papers.
Sally grinned. “More paperwork, huh?” she said slyly. “It never ends, does it?”
“Ha ha ha,” Lisa laughed sarcastically. “Very funny.”
She continued to work at the papers, straightening them to within an inch of their collective lives. Then Lisa reached across the table and handed them to Sally, who studied them for a moment and then looked up at her friend.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A newspaper of sorts,” Lisa said, nodding at the papers. “It's called Frontier Times.”
“I see,” Sally said, even though she really didn't understand at all. “And this has to do with me. . .how?”
“Simple,” Lisa replied. “Give it a quick look, then take a gander at the back page.”
Sally did as her friend requested. She scanned a couple of article titles and realized that Frontier Times was a political paper of sorts, with the emphasis placed firmly on “of sorts.” It wasn't news coverage, exactly, more a mish-mash of opinions based on various writers playing fast and loose with an alleged set of facts.
When she was done, Sally looked up at Lisa, wondering what this was really about.
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