“It’s called politics. You and I both know Preston’s going to promise Thad something else down the road, like a cabinet post if he ever makes it to the White House. That’s the way it’s done.”
“That doesn’t make it right. What kind of leader steals other people’s work?”
“An opportunist,” he replied grimly.
She blew out a breath. “Okay, I’m calm now. I know you’re right. This is how it’s always done.”
“And if it’s okay with Thad, it shouldn’t matter to us.”
Glynn admitted to herself that her real problem was with Marcella, which bothered her because it seemed so . . . emotional. “You’re absolutely right, but I want you to do me a favor. Go have a talk with Thad’s aide and make sure they know this didn’t come from us.”
Roy turned back toward the Dirksen Building while she continued on to her office. As soon as she entered, Tina looked up from her phone.
“Glynn, Sebby’s on line two. He says it isn’t an emergency.” She hurried to her office and retrieved the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her son’s voice put the smile back on her face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I was calling because Mark got tickets for the Hoyas game tomorrow night. He wants me to come, but you have to fax permission.”
“I can do that.” She was mildly hurt that he hadn’t even asked how she was doing, but she reminded herself they had seen each other only yesterday. “I hope it’s a good game.”
“Me too.”
“I wish you were coming with me to Indiana.”
He was silent for a moment. “I gotta go. I have group for the next hour.”
She smiled wistfully. “It was nice to hear your voice. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Call me later in the week, okay?”
“Sure . . . ’bye.”
“’Bye, honey.” He was gone before she ever got the words out.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with a sense of emptiness, and her eyes clouded with tears. It was the same feeling she had yesterday when she left Rawlings, knowing it would be a full week before she saw Sebby again—and another week of hard work for both of them. She had half a mind to track down a ticket to the game just to watch him from across the gym.
Glynn got up and closed the door to her office, then dialed on her personal cell phone—the one whose calls were not automatically logged for public record.
“Hi, it’s Glynn. How are you?”
“Hey, I’m good,” Charlotte answered cheerfully. “Except I’ve been on rotation for a week and can’t find my desk anymore. Hold on just a second.” She covered the phone for a moment to talk to someone. “Sorry. I had someone in my office. I thought you’d be in meetings all day.”
“I mostly am. I just . . .” Glynn’s voice cracked with tension and trailed off. She was suddenly embarrassed for interrupting Charlotte during an obviously busy workday just to grouse in self-pity.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah.” She drew a deep breath. “I just miss my kid, and I wanted to tell somebody.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte answered. “I’m sure it’s hard to have him so close and not with you.”
“Yeah . . . and I know I probably shouldn’t even be calling you about this.”
“No, it’s okay, Glynn. You don’t need a psychiatrist. You need a friend, and I told you I’d be that.”
Glynn sniffed and tried to pull herself together.
“I was going to call you tonight to see if you wanted to meet for dinner or something later this week.”
“I have to go to Indiana on Wednesday. I think that’s part of what’s getting to me. Sebby usually goes with me.”
“Wednesday, huh? No wonder you’re feeling down.”
“Yeah, I won’t see him until I get back on Sunday. We have another family therapy session with Mark at four.”
“Maybe you and Sebby both can use the time to concentrate on the other things you have to do.”
“That’s one way to look at it. My staff has me scheduled down to the last minute.”
“Then the time will fly.”
“But it would be nice to get together. I can do either tonight or tomorrow.”
“Oh . . . sorry. I can’t make either one. I’m seeing a patient tonight, and I just agreed to play racquetball tomorrow.” Charlotte sounded genuinely disappointed. “But I guess I could . . .”
“No, that’s all right. We can have dinner when I get back. How’s that?”
“Sure. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Glynn found herself embarrassed, wishing she had been patient and waited for Charlotte to call. That’s where they had left things on Saturday. “I’m just having a little jealousy spell. Sebby called a minute ago, and he’s going out to a basketball game with Mark tomorrow. If he’s going out somewhere, I want it to be with me.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “I’d be jealous too. But it’s good he’s bonding with Mark, don’t you think?”
“Of course, but can’t I still be childish about this?”
“Absolutely.”
Glynn felt better already, just to have gotten that off her chest.
“How did the family therapy go yesterday?”
“All right, I guess. Mostly, I listened while Sebby talked about his dad. I can’t believe he remembers so many details.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He was telling about how I baked cookies the day his father died. I had forgotten that.”
“I guess kids remember things like cookies.”
“I’ll say. He even remembers that I gave him a few and put the others away. That’s unbelievable.”
“The brain’s a fascinating thing, Glynn.”
“I guess you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. But I bet it’s nowhere near as fascinating as the halls of Congress.”
“I’m not sure fascinating is the word I’d use to describe this place. It isn’t as hallowed as it seems,” Glynn said, her mood still colored by Guy Preston’s request.
“Maybe not, but I have a lot more faith in it now than I did a couple of weeks ago.”
It took Glynn a moment to process that Charlotte was paying her a compliment. “I appreciate that.”
Chapter 10
“You’ve been quiet today, Denise. What should we think about that?” Charlotte flipped back through the pages of her tablet to review the topics the group had discussed. It wasn’t like Denise to keep to herself.
“Eddie called. He wants to see me again.” Charlotte almost chuckled at the incredulous groans of the other four women. “What do you think about that?”
Denise shrugged, but her smile gave her away. “I don’t know.”
“What about the rest of you?” Charlotte asked. “What would you do about Eddie if you were Denise?”
“I’d throw his ass under a bus,” Trudy said emphatically.
All of the women laughed, including both Charlotte and Denise. For the past six weeks, the latter had complained miserably that her boyfriend had left her high and dry when she told him of the attack. To Denise, the trauma of Eddie’s reaction had been almost as bad as the rape.
“What do you want with his sorry ass anyway?” Trudy went on. “You got raped and all he thinks about is what his homeboys are gonna think of him.”
“He says he talked to somebody . . . his preacher or somebody,” Denise answered in what sounded like a half-hearted defense. “And he sent me a box of candy.”
Charlotte eyed the cynical faces of her other patients. “What about the rest of you?”
“I’m with Trudy,” Lynda said. “He wasn’t there when you needed him most. Why do you think he’ll be there next time something is hard?”
The other women simply nodded their agreement.
“Do they have a point, Denise?”
“I didn’t say we were getting married or anything. I just want to hear what he has to s
ay.”
“What do you want him to say?”
“That he’s sorry.” Her expression turned back to the familiar anger of past weeks. “That he has a fucking brain tumor that makes him do stupid shit.”
“Should she hear him out, ladies?”
“I guess you ought to at least listen,” Angie said. “If he doesn’t say all the right things, you can still throw him under a bus.”
Charlotte scribbled a note to herself that would help her write up the session later. “I think I’m hearing they want you to be careful, Denise . . . not to go in with your heart on your sleeve.”
“You’re strong now, girlfriend,” Trudy said.
“Trudy’s right. You might still want Eddie—and if you do, that’s okay—but you don’t need him.” Charlotte looked at her watch. As usual, they were late wrapping up, but it was time well spent. “So do this for me—everyone. I want you to put yourself in Denise’s shoes and think about who has been good for you during this rough time, and who hasn’t. We’ll talk about that next week.”
En masse, the women walked out, Trudy still harping on Eddie, and Denise nodding in resignation. Charlotte followed and picked up her messages, finding on top the one she had dreaded all week.
Julie probably had another fabulous restaurant in mind, another movie or two on DVD, and perhaps another romantic proposition to top it off. She had asked for patience, but Charlotte was awakening to the fact that the reward at the end of her wait might not be all she wanted in a romantic relationship, let alone a partnership. And getting there to find out wasn’t the exciting and passionate experience Charlotte yearned for with a new lover.
“. . . and if he gets to label his beef grass-fed too, it’s an unfair advantage,” the farmer complained. “People see that in the store and think it’s a pasture cow, and it’s not.”
“I see your point, Mr. Simmons. And I think it’s a valid argument.” An argument the Texas cattle rancher’s lobby would probably block at every turn, Glynn knew. “Let me talk with someone I know at Agriculture, and I’ll see what the plan is for future labeling.”
“I appreciate it, Congresswoman. If there’s anybody that can get this fixed, it’s you. My brother lives over in Ohio, and he can’t even get in to see his congressman about it.”
He probably could if he spent a hundred bucks for a plate of barbecue, Glynn thought. She hated these fundraisers, but Randy insisted they were good for everyone. Besides keeping her re-election coffers stocked, they were good forums for learning the concerns of her constituents. Glynn had yet to have a serious challenge in her district, thanks to the conservative rural voter base and Wright family name.
She eyed the buffet line, wishing she could just swing by Tony’s on her way home for a pizza. The idea of barbecue beef almost made her nauseous, but the local ranchers would be offended if she didn’t eat.
Randy moved through the crowd with an elderly woman in tow. “Excuse me, Congresswoman. I want you to meet someone. This is Thelma Rothwell.”
Glynn held out her hand. “So pleased to meet you.” “I taught Bas when he was in the fourth grade. I voted for him every time he ran, and for you ever since.”
“Thank you very much.”
The woman smiled wistfully. “I always knew he’d make something of himself.”
Glynn was used to hearing stories about Bas, especially as class president and football hero in high school. Nearly everyone in the tri-county area knew of Bas through his father, Merriman Wright, a banker who helped many of the local farmers finance equipment and land improvements. His sudden death from a heart attack during Bas’s junior year in high school had prompted an outpouring of love and concern for the Wright family from the whole community. And it was no surprise when they threw their support behind him for his congressional run.
“And I always knew he’d grow up and marry somebody just like him.”
Glynn chuckled. “Bas and I weren’t all that much alike, I’m afraid. He could charm a hornet’s nest. I try my best, but I’ll never manage it like he did.”
“How’s your son? He was Sebastian too, if I remember that right.”
“Yes, we call him Sebby. He’s had a little trouble lately, but he’s better. Thank you for asking.” She wasn’t sure how much the people in Indiana knew about recent events, but she had to assume those who were interested enough to come to a fundraiser would keep up with the news.
Glynn watched her disappear into the small crowd. It was easy to understand why farmers like Mr. Simmons would drop a hundred dollars to get her ear, but folks like Ms. Rothwell were different. They were here to show their support, as if honoring her husband’s memory. She was lucky to have them behind her, and she would do everything she could not to let them down.
Charlotte grasped the handle and waited for Julie’s signal to enter. The gate buzzed, she entered the lobby and took the stairwell to the second floor. She dreaded this conversation, and by now Julie probably did too. Her call this afternoon had been met with a distinct chill, no doubt thanks to her ominous request to drop by just for a few minutes. Julie was bright enough to read between the lines.
The apartment door had been left slightly ajar in anticipation of her arrival. “Anyone home?”
“In here.”
Charlotte closed the door behind her and walked slowly through the foyer into the living room. Julie was sitting on the couch, her papers stacked neatly in piles on the coffee table.
“Hi.” Charlotte smiled nervously.
“Have a seat.” Likewise, Julie seemed to be forcing the pleasantries, as the air between them was thick with apprehension. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Charlotte dropped her purse beside the chair, but didn’t remove her coat. “You work too hard, you know.”
“Comes with the job.” She set down the papers she had been working on and leaned back. “I bet I know why you’re here.”
Charlotte nodded and tightened her lips with resolve. “I thought we should talk.”
“That’s the kiss of death for any relationship, isn’t it?”
“I’m . . . I guess I’m starting to realize we probably don’t have all that much in common.”
“That’s a nice, neutral way to put it.” Julie smiled wanly. “The truth is, we don’t seem to have enough time for each other, and I know that’s my fault.”
“It isn’t just your fault. I’ve had my share of work emergencies too.”
“Yes, but you’ve been willing to make it up at other times, and I haven’t. I’m to blame for that.”
“No one needs to be blamed for anything, Julie. It’s just a difference between us. You have a right to your priorities.” Charlotte had decided not to push for changes, and hoped Julie wouldn’t offer to make any. Since making up her mind over the last few days that they weren’t well-suited for a romantic partnership, she had actively worked to disengage her feelings. Once started, that process was almost impossible to stop.
“Maybe so,” Julie said. “But I don’t want my job to always be my priority. I want to share my life with someone too, and have her be the most important thing in the world to me.”
“I think most of us want that.”
“The thing is—I have to be honest with you here—if I really felt like you were the one, I would have begun to do that. I wanted to give things a little more time, but I was starting to feel like things weren’t growing between us the way I hoped they would. I should have said something earlier.”
Charlotte took a few seconds to be sure she understood. “You mean you were going to dump me?”
Julie smirked. “Yeah, probably.”
She swatted at Julie’s arm. “And here I was feeling all guilty because I didn’t want to be patient anymore.”
“You should know better than anyone that guilt is a useless emotion, at least when it comes to feelings you can’t control.”
“Now don’t go practicing psychiatry on me. I don’t tell you how to grow fru
it.”
Julie leaned forward and held out her hand, which Charlotte took gladly, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I’ve enjoyed these last few months, and I’d like to keep you as a friend. Do you think we could do that?”
Charlotte stood and held her arms wide for a hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Julie walked her to the door, where they kissed lightly one last time. Despite their reassurances to one another, Charlotte doubted they would ever see each other again.
The gravel that crunched beneath her wheels was like a welcome mat to Glynn, as she wound her Ford Explorer down the driveway of her mother-in-law’s home. Irene was anxious for a full report on Sebby, her only grandchild, and had already suggested a few months on the farm as an antidote to the stress of Washington. But Sebby had asked just last month about shortening his usual summer-long visit to a couple of weeks so he could stay in Washington with his friends, and perhaps attend a basketball camp sponsored by one of the former Georgetown players. Glynn was all for anything that kept him closer to home, especially now.
Irene met her at the front door with open arms. Her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “You poor thing. I bet you’ve been worried sick.”
“We all have, Irene.” Glynn fell into her embrace, relaxing for what felt like the first time in weeks. Irene was overbearing and sometimes unabashed about manipulating things to her advantage, but Glynn had never doubted she was loved as if she were a daughter. “But things are better now. I think Sebby’s going to be okay.”
“Come on in and tell me everything. I’ve already got his room ready for when he gets out of that center.”
She followed Irene into the house. “He wants to go back to his school when he gets out. All of his friends are there.”
“But his family is here, and that’s more important at a time like this.”
Glynn wasn’t ready for this fight yet. There was no way she could win it with words anyway. Irene had an answer for everything. “We should talk with Sebby when he gets out and see if he’s changed his mind, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
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