"Yes, it is," Charles said, smiling to himself.
"Will you hold one moment for the senator?"
"Yes, but just a moment," he said, "I'm a very busy man." But the secretary had already put him on hold, and he decided she probably wouldn't have gotten his joke, anyway.
"Dad?"
"Senator Evans?" he asked, sounding excited. "Is it really you?"
"Okay, okay," Jim said, laughing. "I guess it is a little pompous to have my secretary make my personal calls."
"Just a little, son, but I'm always glad to hear from you, even if I have to get through a layer or two of the bureaucracy. How are you?"
"I'm good. A little bored, but good."
"Bored? My tax dollars are paying your salary. Get busy!"
Jim laughed. "I'm a lame duck, Dad. Everyone has turned his attention to the November election. I'm just keeping this chair warm until January when I hope Bob Washington is going to fill it."
"His competition is making things easier for him. The Republican candidates went after each other with hammer and tongs. They really injured each other during the primary. And I don't think the better man won."
"I don't either," Jim said.
"I think Washington should win fairly easily."
"Yeah, I do, too. He's a good man. I think he'll fit in here."
"So … I'm sure you didn't call to get political advice. What's on your mind?"
"You have been," Jim said. "I miss seeing you, Dad, and I haven't been able to come home as often as I thought I would. So I thought I might be able to talk you into coming to visit me for a few days."
"I'm sorry you miss me, but I'm a little glad, too. Parents like to be needed."
"I'm serious, Dad. I know you can't get away on weekends, but I thought you might be able to come out on a Sunday evening and stay until Wednesday or Thursday. We could visit some sites, have lunch in the Senate dining room … do some touristy things I haven't done."
"You really want me to come?" Charles asked.
"Yes, of course I do. Why else would I ask?"
"I don't know," Charles said. "It just seems odd to think of visiting you. I guess having you live so close by all of your life makes this seem extraordinary."
"I think we'd have fun," Jim said. "But I'll understand if you're not able to come."
"No, I'd like to," Charles said. "I haven't been in Washington for many, many years. Have they finished the Lincoln Memorial yet?"
Laughing, Jim said, "Yeah, they have. There's a bridge over the Potomac, too."
"Well, that I've got to see. When do you want me?"
"Whenever you can make it. I don't have anything I can't get out of for the rest of the month."
"Then we should probably do it soon," Charles said, "so nothing comes up."
"Great," Jim said. "I'll fly you out tomorrow night."
"That soon?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"You have to buy tickets two weeks in advance. You can't do things like this at the last minute!"
"Sure you can," Jim said. "Don't give it another thought. I'll make all the arrangements."
"Now, don't go to a lot of trouble. I can sleep on your couch."
"Okay, Dad. I'll just get you a newspaper to keep the light out of your eyes, and you can sleep in the lobby."
"You got your mother's sense of humor," Charles said. "But I'm still happy that you called, Jim. I'm looking forward to seeing you."
"Me, too, Dad. See you late tomorrow night."
Part Fourteen
On Sunday afternoon, Jamie and Catherine sat at the end of a row of spectators that included Maeve, Martin, Jennie, Conor and Rory. The women intentionally tried to sit at the far end of a row during games so they could chat. They both loved showing their support for Ryan, but Jamie was only really interested when Ryan was playing, and Catherine couldn't even summon much enthusiasm at that point. But she loved to be with the family, and she took every opportunity she could to spend time with her daughter.
"Did I tell you about my dilemma in trying to find a date for the Opera Guild dinner?" Catherine asked.
Jamie turned to her with a puzzled glance. "No, I didn't know you were having trouble. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It wasn't a very big issue, honey. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of asking your father to go with me just to make everything appear normal. But that gossipy little item in the newspaper about our divorce ruined that plan," she said, making a face.
"Are you going alone? 'Cause I'd love to go with you," Jamie said, trying her best to sound sincere.
Catherine laughed. "Oh, honey, that's so sweet of you. But I know you'd rather watch paint dry than go to one of those events. Besides, you've had enough people staring at you this year. And if you needed another reason, Cassie's mother will be there. I can only imagine how much pleasure she'd get in saying something rude to you."
"Gosh, you sure do make it sound like a fun night. Do you have to go?"
"Since I'm the chairperson, it would be a good idea. But don't worry. I've found the perfect escort."
"Who's that?"
"Conor," Catherine said, looking very pleased with herself.
"Conor?"
"What?" the young man asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"Oh. Nothing," Jamie said. "I was just … I forget," she added, turning red.
He gave her a look that questioned her sanity, then sat back to watch the action on the field.
"Conor?" the blonde asked again, quieter this time. "You're taking Conor to the dinner?"
"Yes. Why does that surprise you so?"
"He's … he's Conor." Jamie said. "People will think you hired him from an escort service."
Clapping her hands together, Catherine said, "Goodness, I hope so."
"Are you all right? Everyone will be talking about you."
"They will be anyway," Catherine said lightly. "I might as well give them something good to talk about. I think we'll have a great time, and that's all that matters to me. I'm not going to stand for re-election, so I won't have to meet with the vipers who most annoy me every month. I'm free!"
"Mom! You've been on the board of the Opera Guild … for … forever."
"Only since you were a child," Catherine said. "I suppose that seems like forever, but it's really not. It's time for some new blood to get some power."
"You're hardly a relic. Don't give this up if you don't want to."
"I wouldn't," Catherine said, looking very confident about her decision. "I'm tired of seeing the same old faces and hearing the same petty gossip. I'll give more money to take the place of my labor. From now on I'm going to enjoy the opera as a spectator, nothing more. I'm sure I'll enjoy it more if I don't know about all of the squabbling that goes on behind the scenes."
"Wow," Jamie said. "I thought you'd always be connected to the Guild. This is really a big deal."
"Not for me," Catherine said. "I'm trying to divest myself of the things that haven't adding something positive to my life. I still want to do some charity work, but I'm going to find programs that appeal to me on a different level. Maybe I'll work with literacy programs or music education or something more down to earth."
"Okay," Jamie said, having trouble digesting the news.
"This is good news," Catherine said, sensing Jamie's doubts. "I'm getting rid of the things in my life that have been holding me back, making me feel stuck and unproductive."
Jamie summoned a smile and said, "If quitting makes you happy, I'm happy. But I think I might have to go to the dinner just to watch Conor flirt."
"Laura Martin and I are the new girls in the Guild," Catherine said. "The other women still call us that, by the way. Conor won't find many women from his generation."
"I've seen him flirt with octogenarians," Jamie said. "He flirts with anyone with a double X chromosome."
"Marvelous! That'll make people even more certain he's a paid escort." Catherine giggled, a sound Jamie was hearing more often, and loving more
each time she heard it. "This is going to be fun!"
After the game, Jamie and Jennie stood outside of the players' dressing room. Ryan walked out with Heather, and they all said hello. "Want a ride back to Berkeley, Heather?" Jamie asked.
"Sure. If you have room."
"It's just Jen and me," Jamie said. "My mom brought Conor and Rory, and Martin and Maeve drove up separately."
"Great. I'm always happy not to have to ride on the bus."
Jamie tossed Ryan the keys, and they walked to the parking lot together, where they spent a few minutes speaking to the rest of the family. When they were finally ready to leave, Ryan opened the doors and put her and Heather's bags in the back, then she went to sit in the passenger seat. Surprised, Jamie looked at her. "You don't want to drive?"
"Nah. I'm tired." The blonde was still staring at her, making Ryan finally ask, "What? I can't be tired?"
"Sure you can. But you don't look tired, and you don't act tired."
"I'm stealth-tired. It's under the radar. Let's go, okay? I'm also hungry."
"Well at least that's an indication of normalcy," Jamie said, accepting the keys from her lover.
Heather and Jennie were in the back seat, and they were both quiet, sensing some tension between their friends. Jamie bore a pensive expression, and Ryan looked a little fidgety. To break the silence, Jennie said, "I got my test back, and I got an 'A'. Thanks for helping me, Heather."
"Hey, that's great, Jen," Heather said. "Ashley just asked me if you'd gotten it back yet. She's always worried about grades-even when they're not hers."
"My offer still stands to help you with French whenever you need it," Jamie said.
"I know. But one of my girlfriends is from France, and we do our homework together. It's kinda like being able to do your homework with a teacher."
"She's not doing it for you, is she?" Jamie asked.
"No … not … really," Jennie said.
"Jennie …"
"She doesn't do it for me, Jamie. She's just there when I get stuck."
"Just make sure you do the work to get yourself unstuck," Jamie said. "That's how you learn."
"I'm learning a lot," Jennie said. "We send notes to each other in French, and I have to figure them out. Sometimes it takes me all day!"
"Ryan's taking French," Jamie said, sneaking a look at her lover, who was slumped in her seat, staring blankly out the window.
Giggling, Jennie said, "Yesterday my note said, 'Oh, la vache! Le paquet de devoirs qu'il fiche aux potaches, ce prof… ce n'est pas croyable! Je crois qu'il est sado!'"
Jamie laughed. "You're using some pretty good slang there, Jen. But will any of that be on your tests?" She looked at Ryan. "Did you get any of that, honey?"
"I heard, 'Oh, the cow.' But I doubt you were talking about farming." She said this with such a flat affect that Jamie wanted to pin her down and figure out what was going on. But she couldn't do that with Jennie and Heather in the car. So she took the first exit and went to a gas station. "Will you guys use my Speed-pass to fill up the car?"
"I don't know how," Jennie said, even while she eyed the key fob that Jamie handed her.
"You're smart girls. You'll figure it out. Ryan, will you come inside with me?"
"For what?"
Jamie gave her a sweet smile. "Because I asked you to."
Without comment, Ryan opened her door and got out, seemingly taking a lot of energy to accomplish the task. She followed Jamie into the bathroom, and stood there with her hands in her pockets. "What's up?"
"You're not," Jamie said, touching her on the shoulder. "What's bothering you?"
"Nuthin. I've gotta pee."
She walked into the stall, obviously expecting her partner to leave the room, but Jamie recognized a subterfuge when she saw one. She stayed right where she was, asking again, "Tell me."
There was a prolonged silence, during which Ryan managed to produce an ounce of urine. She came out and washed her hands while Jamie leaned against a sink and stared at her. "I'm supposed to be giving her music lessons every week. I don't think I've had time to do it twice since I gave her the damned clarinet."
Shoulders slumping in dismay, Jamie said, "She understands. I bet she doesn't have time anyway. And Rory's still teaching her some theory. It's not a bad idea to learn how to read music before you play an instrument."
Ryan dropped her head and mumbled, "I promised."
Jamie knew there was no way to assuage her partner's guilt, so she didn't even try. She slapped her lover on the shoulder and said, "Then you'll have to make it up to her this summer. You'll have her playing like a champ if you both put your minds to it."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah. I guess that's the answer."
Jamie put her hand around her waist and walked with her to the narrow door. "It'll be all right, honey. No one expects as much from you as you expect from yourself."
With a thin smile, Ryan said, "You're not the first to mention that."
Jim Evans sat in the back seat of a Mercedes sedan with the car idling curbside at Reagan National Airport. There were signs next to the car decreeing that only "Official U.S. Government Business" was to be conducted, but it was commonplace for members of Congress to be picked up and dropped off in the spot.
He saw his father walk out of the terminal, and both he and the chauffeur alighted. Jim waved and caught his father's attention, and Charles got just a few feet before the chauffeur was at his side taking his bag. "Oh, you don't have to-"
The gray-haired man gave him a businesslike smile. "It's my job, sir. Allow me."
Charles released his bag and let the man carry it to the car and tuck it into the trunk. "Dad! It's great to see you!" Jim gave his father a surprisingly warm hug, then opened the rear door of the car. "Hop in, Dad." He dashed around to the other side and let the chauffeur hold and then close his door. "Good flight?"
"Yes, it was very nice," Charles said. "But you didn't have to put me in business class, son."
"Oh, please. It's nothing. Really."
"I was glad I didn't wear my clerical collar," Charles said. "Don't want people to think I'm raiding the collection plate."
"If every minister were as honest as you are, more people would belong to a church."
Charles patted his son on the leg, "You're not running for office, but I'd vote for you if you were. You don't have to flatter me."
Jim looked at him, holding his gaze for a moment. "I'm not flattering you. I meant that."
Slightly embarrassed, Charles smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate that." They pulled out into traffic, the roads congested, as usual. "Nice car you have here."
"Just one of the perks."
"Where are the perks better?" Charles asked, knowing his son loved the little and not-so-little items that went along with his jobs. "Law or politics?"
"Hmm … that's hard to say. They're different, that's for sure. I guess the perks were better for me at the firm, but I'm treated like a demi-God in the senate. Each place is nice in its own way, but I prefer law."
"That surprises me a little," Charles said. "People give up an awful lot to win a senate seat."
"Yeah, they do. But it's never been a dream of mine. Politics is boring, if you ask me."
"Boring? Really?"
Jim laughed softly. "I shouldn't admit to that, but I'm used to getting things done. I could get on the phone with the president of a major corporation and work out a deal-just the two of us. Nothing gets done quickly in the senate. Nothing. It's all about compromise and waiting for the right time. If you were in office for thirty or forty years, you'd probably feel some accomplishment. But I'm just holding this place for Bob Washington. He really wants it."
"So you'll go back to your law firm?"
"Yeah," Jim said. "That's the plan."
Charles Evans poked his silver head out of the bedroom on Monday morning, surprised to see his son showered and dressed, sitting at a table by the window, sections from several newspapers spread out in front of him. "Good m
orning," the younger man said when he spied his father. "Sleep well?"
"Very well. What are you up to?"
"Just reading a couple of papers."
"I assume you've got to do a lot of work to stay informed."
"Yeah. I read the Washington Post and the New York Times, then I get a news summary for the world from my staff."
"The world?"
"Well, not the whole world. Just the places where something is happening that might affect our interests." Jim gave his father a wry smile. "I was thinking about the founding fathers the other day, and felt a little envious that it could take over a month to get news from Europe. There's not a minute's time lag now. We're on a twenty-four hour news cycle." He stood up and said, "I made some coffee. Take a look at the room service menu and we'll order breakfast."
"You order breakfast?"
Jim raised an eyebrow. "I'm very busy. My time's worth too much to spend it cooking."
Charles clapped his hands together. "I've got to remember that you're a big boy now. You don't need my advice on how to live."
"I'd be doing a lot better if I'd taken your advice on a lot of subjects," Jim said as he disappeared into the kitchen to fetch some coffee."
After her morning walk, Catherine sat down in her office and gathered some of her monogrammed stationery and a fountain pen. She played with the cap on the pen for a few moments, then checked the ink supply, a little disappointed to find it full. She wasn't ready to write the letter, but she knew she had to do it. The polite thing to do would be to speak to him in person, or at least on the phone, but he was very persuasive, and she didn't want to give him the chance to talk her into backing down.
After wasting as much time as she could, she uncapped the pen once more and wrote in Italian, "My dear, Giacomo. I hate to do this in a letter, but I've made a decision about us. I'm not able to see you any longer. It's not that I don't care for you, or find you a wonderful companion and lover. But I need more than you're able to give me."
After breakfast, Jim asked, "What would you like to do today, Dad?"
"I'd like to see where you work. Would that be all right?"
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