A Political Affair (21 page)

In response, he took a step away. “And you look striking, as always. Where’s Smythe? I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Yes. Thank you. Matt’s over there.” She smiled impishly and pointed to Congressman Matt Smythe as he spoke to a lobbyist. “I’m only engaged; I haven’t taken any vows yet,” she declared in a velvety voice.

“Not yet, but you will.”

“Oh, not for a while. In the meantime, you and I are going to be working some late nights in December on the energy bill.”

“Yes. It’s a busy time of year.” He searched for Patty. He was the one who needed saving now, but he couldn’t catch her eye.

“Well, I thought we could discuss some of the issues . . . like we used to
 . . .
over your desk.” She grinned wickedly. “We both used to get a lot out of those discussions.”

Knowing he needed to handle his reply delicately, he smiled as he let her down. “Yes, but I think that time is over.”
 

Taken aback by his answer, her brow furrowed. “Why? I haven’t seen you around with Diane anymore.” When he didn’t reply, she surveyed the room and pointed to Patty. “You’re here with your sister.”

“I take my family members with me to events all the time.” He was annoyed as hell, but he remembered he had to keep things light. Helen was a conniving woman, so he forced a smile. “They make the best dates for functions like this.”

“That’s probably true,” she said as his smile worked wonders on her. “Family members don’t require any commitment—that’s good when you want some . . . variety in your life.”

“Yes, something like that,” he muttered, looking away. Variety was the last thing he wanted in his life.

“Well, it’s only a matter of time. I won’t give up.” As she turned to leave, she raised her eyebrows. “And you
know
we always work well together.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled. When he opened them, Senator Grayson York approached him.
 

“Evening, Stephen.”

“Hello, Grayson.”

“You don’t sound very happy tonight,” he said, his hands clasped in front of him on his cane.

“I just had an unpleasant conversation.”

Grayson nodded. “So, the chickens are coming home to roost?”

“I suppose. Helen was not one of my wisest choices.”

“You don’t say?”
 

The two men laughed at Stephen’s questionable judgment.
 

“How are things for you?” Grayson asked. “We haven’t talked anything but work since the fundraiser.”

Stephen tilted his head, and when their eyes locked, he knew Grayson was asking about Anne. He scratched his forehead for a few seconds, wondering what to say. “Things are good,” he answered with caution. “Great, in fact. This probably isn’t the best place to talk, though.”

Grayson looked around them. “Why the hell not? There aren’t people for twenty feet, and we’re in the White House, for God’s sake. No bugs here.” He shrugged. “But you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it at all. I consider you my second father. I have no worries talking with you.”

“Well, you’re like a son. I want to know what’s going on with you.” He raised his eyebrows. “I gather you’re no longer seeing Diane.”

“Over and done with, and we’re on good terms. She’s dating a federal judge in Massachusetts—a much better fit.”

“Yet, Helen persists.”

“Unfortunately, she has returned.” Stephen was grim.

“She must be looking for one last hurrah before she marries that dolt, Smythe. Don’t worry about her. I’m pretty sure she’s got a couple of other irons in the fire.”

“You think so?” It never entered his mind Helen was seeing other men while they were together.

“Absolutely. I’m good at spotting those sorts of things. Comes with age.”

“Who do you think she’s with these days?”

“Well, definitely Anderson. I bet there are others.”

Stephen mulled over the Republican senator. Anderson was divorced, with a reputation for sleeping around. Stephen also thought he was a royal asshole.

“They deserve each other, but I worry she’s still going to be a problem for me.”

“Because?”

“Because she pointed out I’m not seeing anyone else.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “But actually I am.”
 

Grayson nodded his understanding. He returned the smile and tapped his cane once for emphasis. “And I assume you’re happy.”
 

“I am.” Stephen chuckled. “She’s a friend of the family, you know.”

“Is she, now? Lillian knows of you two?”

“Yes. My mother likes her a lot.”

Grayson scanned the room as he jingled the change in his left pocket. “Really? So you’re serious about her.”

“Yes.”

“Serious enough to damn the consequences?”

“Yes.” Stephen sighed, thinking of all the potential repercussions, yet he stood firm in his decision. “I hope my dad would’ve understood.”

“He would’ve.” He patted Stephen on the back. “Well, Laura and I would be delighted to have you two for dinner. This friend of your mother’s can also be a friend of ours.”

“I don’t think you want to be involved in this, Grayson. I appreciate the offer. It’s very kind, but you know—”

The warning made Grayson laugh heartily. “You’ve got to remember, I can do whatever I want, and the people of Georgia will still reelect me. I’ve been in office since before most of them were born, and Atlantans drive on the Grayson P. York Highway every day. I’ve brought home so much federal money to our state I could be caught with an intern and I’d still win by twenty points.”

Stephen laughed, but he kept thinking of Grayson’s generous invitation. The elderly statesman offered a cloak of respectability to his relationship with Anne. “It’s incredibly kind of you to invite us.”

“Well, I’d like to get to know her, as would Laura. After all, it’s not every day I get to spend time with a woman who can hold your eye.”

Chapter 15

Thanksgiving week was hard on Stephen and Anne. For Stephen, Thanksgiving Day was his only time off, spent at their traditional family dinner and watching football with Marco. The remainder of the week, he was in full campaign mode, with meetings and events. Throughout the days, his thoughts turned to Anne, and rote campaign events were especially hard.
 

   
As he waited his turn to speak at an event for the state firefighters’ organization, he tuned out and wondered what it would be like if Anne were at his side. His gut reaction made him smile—everything would be better. They could joke and endure the painfully slow events together, and she’d be supportive in a less-than-welcoming crowd.
 

Surveying the largely male audience before him, he was sure she could work the room. The firefighters were all chronically disaffected Reagan Democrats-turned-Obama Republicans. Down-to-earth and pretty, Anne also understood how a more conservative mind worked; they would eat her up.
 

Yet she had another side, and she moved easily in well-heeled circles. Thinking of the fancy fundraiser he attended the previous night, he was sure she’d also have done well there. He sighed to himself. If she weren’t so young—if she weren’t an intern—she’d be a perfect political partner. He wished she were there with him.

While Stephen was in Colorado, Anne missed him terribly, but she became even more troubled on Thanksgiving when she spoke with her parents. The initial lies she told her family at the start of their relationship seemed innocuous. She told herself they weren’t really lies, but rather omissions. Yet, the more time she spent with Stephen, the harder it became to simply leave out important details of her life; omissions turned into white lies followed by outright lies. Thanksgiving Day proved to be the worst conversation of all.
 

“So, this Keith . . . you’re having Thanksgiving together. Are you dating?” her mother, Mary Beth, asked.
 

“No. He has a girlfriend. We’re just friends, and lots of people will be at the dinner.” Anne cringed. She worried she sounded defensive.
 

“Well, are you dating anyone?”
 

“Sure. Sometimes.” Anne closed her eyes.
Lie number one.

“Well, that’s okay to casually date. At this point in your life, you don’t want to be tied down with a serious relationship.”

“Right,” Anne mumbled.
Lie number two.
 

“Oh, I wanted to ask if I should buy your plane ticket for Christmas. When do you think you’ll be coming in?”

She held the phone away and grimaced, thinking about Lillian McEvoy’s offer to fly in their plane home for the holidays. She wanted to go with Stephen, but it meant the lies were stacking up. She punted the decision. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll buy my own ticket. I’m not sure when I’m leaving.”

“Are you not sure because of school or the internship?”

“Both.” If only she could get off the phone and run away from the deception, but it was too soon to end the call. She changed the subject. “So what are you bringing to the Walkers for Thanksgiving?”

As her mother detailed her oyster dressing and cranberry stuffing, Anne closed her eyes in sadness. She hated deceiving her family. Yet how could she ever explain Stephen to them?

The following weekend, while Megan kept the car running, Stephen unlocked the gate to the McEvoys’ West Virginia property. It was a western cattle gate attached to a traditional barbed-wire fence, encircling blackness. The deep night, dark forest, and heavy snow gave an inaccessible feeling to the location, and the mile-long drive down a bumpy, dirt road clinched its remoteness.

Arriving in separate cars, Marco and Anne pulled up to the cabin behind them. Anne smiled and gave him a sideways glance. “Stephen said the cabin was private and rustic. He didn’t mention it was gigantic.”

Marco snickered. “The McEvoys have a different notion of size compared to us commoners.”

“I’m learning that.”

When Anne opened her door, Stephen stood there ready to help her out of the car. “Hey, how was the drive? I missed you.”

“Marco’s great company, but I missed you, too.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. Her lips brushed the snow on his face, and it reminded her of the temperature. “Brr. It’s cold out here.”

“Go on inside with Megan. Marco and I will get the bags.”

Adirondack chairs dotted the house’s large wraparound porch. Anne guessed somewhere in the pitch black there was a nice view from those seats. As she followed Megan inside, she looked all around and smiled at the dark wood and homey décor. “It really
is
rustic.”
 

“Of course.” Megan chuckled. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia.”

“I like it.”

“I’d like it a whole lot more if it were warmer.” Megan pointed to a bench. “Let’s take off our boots here, and then we can turn on the heat. Don’t take off your coat yet.”

Stephen and Marco soon came inside, suitcases and bags in tow. Megan took the provisions to the kitchen en route to the thermostat.
 

“Are you freezing?” Stephen asked Anne as he untied his boots.
 

“I wouldn’t say freezing.” She smiled as she stood in her coat with snow crystals melting in her hair. “But I would say it’s about forty degrees in here.”

“There’s only one way to deal with this place when it gets this cold,” said Marco, setting his boots off to the side.

“What’s that?” asked Anne.

“Get the woodstove going in your bedroom and get under the covers,” he answered with a mischievous grin. “Works every time.”

Anne chuckled, but looked down as she felt a nervous pang. It would be the first time she and Stephen slept together, in both senses of the term.
 

Megan sped by them, rubbing her arms in an attempt to create heat. “Food’s in the fridge, and the heat’s on. Night.”

Stephen touched Anne’s arm and smiled. “Come on. I’ll take you to our room.”

“Night, you two,” Marco called out. “I’ll have coffee ready in the morning, though I can’t promise when.”

“Thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Stephen said. He pointed Anne to a short set of stairs off to the right. “We go down here.” After eight creaky stairs, he opened a door to a large room and turned on the lights. “This is it.”

As he placed the bags on a chair, Anne looked around the room, which could be described as refined country. A hope chest sat at the foot of a giant sleigh bed, which was covered by a floral duvet and a mound of puffy pillows. It looked comfortable, and the extra quilts folded along the bottom only made it more inviting. The old black iron stove sat near a sitting area and french doors to the outside. Another door, slightly ajar, led to the bathroom.

She turned to him and smiled. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s the guest bedroom. I thought it would be more private.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nuzzled her hair, still damp from the snow. “I hope it’s comfortable, too.”

“I’m sure it will be.” She kissed him; it began as sweet but slowly turned passionate. She was surprised when he pulled away and placed his forehead against hers.