Conservative Affairs (17 page)

Last night, she had looked through materials the realtor had brought to the office, including a flyer for a four-bedroom house with a wrap-around deck. It was beautiful, but she honestly didn’t need that much space. At this point, it was hard to say what she did need.

Her lawyer snapped his briefcase closed, bringing her back to reality again. “Call me if you have any questions, but we’ll get you through this.”

“Sounds good, thank you.” As he walked out, she couldn’t recall a word he had said, but it didn’t matter. The divorce proceedings could go on without her, as far as she was concerned. John could take everything, and she would still find a way to be happy.

Alone in her office, she stretched her arms above her head. The cycle she had been living lately was exhausting. When she had announced to the staff that she was coming back full-time and that she wanted the appointments she had missed the previous week rescheduled, they had wasted no time in putting together a grueling schedule for her.

She had been in meetings all day every day since—albeit mostly ribbon cuttings and speeches where she could do her business as mayor and then escape—with early retirement to her hotel room for sanctuary every night. There’d been a short press conference too, in which she had addressed basic media concerns without delving deeply into the issues at hand. Even though she was the mayor, she reminded them, she was entitled to privacy and respect when it came to her personal life.

Luckily, she had managed to do that—even more so since the divorce than ever before. She knew the respect for her personal time had largely been because they viewed her as the victim, and it would soon fade. Nonetheless, it had been a welcome reprieve.

She glanced into the hallway and out toward the cubicles. Jo was not among the staff working there for a change, she was glad to see, though her absence also roused her curiosity. Knowing that she could always count on Gabe for a smile and having not yet conferred with him today, she walked toward his desk, intent on clarifying her day’s schedule.

“Good morning, Mayor,” he said, looking up from his computer.

“Is it still morning?” Madeline managed a laugh.

“For a few minutes, anyway.” Gabe returned her smile. “How was the meeting?”

“It was fine, Gabriel, thank you,” she said, hoping to deter further questions. She wanted a nap, a drink or someone to rub the tension out of her shoulders. Her thoughts drifted to Jo’s soft hands—but she jerked them back quickly.

“So what’s on my agenda for the rest of the day?” she asked him, trying to rein in her thoughts.

“Let’s see here,” Gabe said, turning to his computer screen. “It looks like we’ve got you pretty well booked up.” He pivoted the monitor to allow her to see the calendar.

“Good. Let’s get all caught up. Thanks for the hard work,” Madeline said before turning down the hallway to return to her office.

It was best to keep busy these days.

* * *

Antonio’s had been her mother’s choice for their lunch date. The whole thing had been her mother’s idea actually. The atmosphere at the overly elegant, overpriced Italian restaurant reminded her too much of her childhood. The Carson family was all for show. Her mother’s black dress, pearls, intricately manicured nails, and newest Dooeny and Bourke bag all assured Jo that nothing had changed.

She looked down again at the pencil skirt she had chosen for the day to appease her. It wasn’t going to be enough. It never was. But she was not her mother, although the two of them looked almost identical. Staring across the table at her, she could clearly see what she would look like in a few years. The same hair, same green eyes, same smile. Her mother had hardly aged, it seemed.

There was a difference in their expressions, though. At least she hoped so. Her mother’s was more stern, more focused, more ruled by expectation. The expectations had never changed nor had the commands that came with them.
Sit up straight. Smile. You can’t wear that. Don’t say that. What will people think?
Jo had heard those and other admonitions a million times. As she sat stiffly across from her mother, they were the only things she could think of.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” her mother asked, raising an eyebrow while directing upon her the soul-piercing gaze that Jo had known her entire life, her mother’s way of nonverbally heaping on pressure.

Jo had been waiting for the deeper issues to surface. “Not at the moment, Mom.” She took a bite of a breadstick, hoping that having her mouth full would excuse her from making further comments at the moment.

“Jo, you know you can’t just work your life away, right?”

Instead of replying, Jo simply waited, knowing her mother would soon continue her speech.

She didn’t disappoint. Martha Carson was nothing, if not predictable. “I mean, there’s still a chance, even at your age, that you will find someone. You have to put yourself out there, though. Be approachable.”

Jo fought the urge to snap back that she
was
approachable and wasn’t sitting at home pining for someone to sweep her off her feet. Her mother wouldn’t appreciate hearing the truth, though: that most of the time she was the approacher—always on the lookout for a cute girl with a pretty smile to take home. That’s where Madeline had been different—dangerously so. She wasn’t some unfocused girl with no expectations other than one night. She was refined, intelligent, driven and complex.

She focused on eating the Caesar salad in front of her. One bite at a time, she’d dutifully consume it and the sermons being served up by her well-meaning mother. And then she’d go on with her life.

“Maybe you could meet him at work,” her mother mused.

Are we still on this? And why did I take off of work for it?
Jo silently wondered how her mother could go on and on about finding the love of your life when she herself was so unhappily married.

“Are there any nice, handsome, eligible men at work, honey?”

“No.” Jo quickly dismissed her mother’s fantasy.

“Oh, well, what about at church? Are you still attending regularly?”

“I go when I can, Mom, and, no, there are not any men I’m interested in at the church.”

Not at the church—not anywhere.

“How are you and Dad? What’s new with you all?” Maybe if she could change the subject, things would move more quickly.

“We’re doing well. He has been up at the church working late every night to prepare for the big revival we are having in a few weeks, and I’ve been working on our latest remodel. When are you coming home next? You’ll have to see what we’ve done with the place. You will hardly recognize it.”

“I’ll have to come check it out sometime,” Jo agreed, trying her best to sound enthusiastic.

“Tulsa
is
only two hours away. We’re close enough to visit you, and your father is always visiting churches here, speaking at events and helping organize community events. This is his hometown, after all. The road goes both ways, you know. Remember—he is the one who helped you secure your job. His connections with the churches here, his acquaintance with Madeline and his deep pockets helped pave the way. That—and the fact that we’re your parents—should warrant an occasional day trip, at least. Sometimes I think you forget that.”

Always pressing, pushing and prodding. “I don’t forget. I just work close to twice the hours a normal person does in a week.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said, drawing the sound out longer than necessary. “Speaking of work, what is happening with your boss?”

“She’s going through a rough time.” Jo didn’t want to discuss Madeline. She tapped her foot under the table nervously, wishing she were back at the office.

“Well, the media was all over the story for a while. You probably saw…They interviewed that lady a while back—the one her husband was caught with. Pretty woman, but not too bright, if you ask me. She sat there and admitted nothing. It was like interviewing someone who can’t speak.”

“Maybe she had nothing to say,” Jo said. “What would you say if you were caught fooling around with the husband of someone famous?”

“I would never,” her mother replied, obviously offended.

“Mom, that’s not what I meant. I meant if you put yourself in her shoes, you probably wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway. But, having said that, I think she’s an adulterous whore.”

“Jo Carson, watch how you speak in public,” Martha scolded.

“Sorry,” Jo muttered. Nothing had changed between the two of them since Jo was a toddler, it seemed.

“I can’t believe how working for politics has turned you into such a crass person.”

“I’m not crass. I’m just tired. I said I was sorry.” Jo went back to eating her salad.

“Very well, we’ll forget about all of that. But back to your boss. Is this all going to blow over? She wasn’t in the news today, but there are bound to be things that people still want to know. Is she going to stay at that hotel they caught her in the other day? Is she going to get a new house? Is she going to run for another term?” The questions poured out of Martha’s mouth like a faucet running at full blast.

“All that is being made public is what you have seen on the news.”

Martha looked like she was going to pry for more details, but Jo wanted off the subject. “So, tell me about the new Bible study you’re leading.”

And, just like that, they were onto another subject. Jo breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother continued talking as Jo ate, laying down her fork only when she heard the familiar ding of her BlackBerry.

“Excuse me, Mom,” she said, holding up her finger to halt her mother’s story—not that she was paying any attention.

It was a text message from Gabe. “Will you bring back some lunch for M? I have her working straight through a break.”

Jo pictured walking into Madeline’s office with a peace offering of lunch and having Madeline actually speak to her—instead of brushing her off as she had been doing. The thought of having a conversation with her made Jo smile. Too late she remembered that her mother was watching her like a hawk. She tried to recover.

“Oh,” once again Martha drug out the sound too long. It was starting to get on Jo’s nerves. “Who is that from?”

“It’s just work. One of my co-workers,” she said.

“Why the big smile then?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Jo glanced back down at her phone and began typing a reply. “Sure thing.” She clicked the send button and set it down on the table.

“Jo, don’t leave that phone on the table,” Martha reprimanded.

“Sorry,” she said, putting it in her lap. “They are having some trouble locating one of the files they need to reference, and I have it. They’re looking for it but are going to call if they need me to come back in to find it for them.”

“You work too hard and spend too much time on that thing,” Martha said. “Shouldn’t a girl like you be less worried about running back into the office and more worried about sitting here, having lunch with your mother?”

“What do you mean ‘a girl like me’?” Jo questioned, hating the fact her mother still regarded as her a child—and one of a certain type, no less.

“I just mean a girl who has so little in her personal life. You should be focused on finding a suitable husband or at least seeing your family from time to time.”

“I don’t want a husband,” Jo shot back.

Martha Carson looked as if she had been slapped across the face.

“And why not?” she asked incredulously.

Jo reached into her purse under the table and pulled out her personal phone. Using a trick she had learned a long time ago, she used it to speed-dial her BlackBerry number. When that rang, she grabbed it with the other hand and hung up the phone so that it didn’t echo.
Saved by the bell
, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief.

She glanced down at the screen immediately. “It’s my boss, Mom. Hold that thought,” she added, even though she wanted Martha to think about anything else than why she might not want a husband.

“Hello?” Jo answered.

She paused a moment, pretending to listen.

“Uh, yes. I have it on my computer. Were you not able to find it?” she asked, improvising her end of the conversation.

With one more believable pause, she added, “I understand. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

She hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve got to go. I’ll visit soon.” It was a lie, but hopefully it would get her mother off her back.

Quickly, she stood, dropped cash on the table for her half of the check and hugged her mother. She ignored her mother’s urging her to pick up the money and let her treat her to lunch. “I do love you, Mom, even if we don’t always agree.” She kissed her on the top of the head and left. For a moment, she felt guilty, but her fight-or-flight instincts were too strong to allow her to stick around Martha any longer than she had to.

On the drive back to the office, she put on some angry rock music, letting the sounds of Five Finger Death Punch take her into another dimension, where she could think more quickly, sort through what she was feeling and bang her head to the music a bit. Her thoughts raced to the beat of the music. What was she doing in this situation? Was staying in this job worth continually being thrown onto an emotional roller coaster every time Madeline glanced in her direction? She had never fallen for anyone the way she had for Madeline. Was it simply because it was all too taboo to be real?

She prided herself on being independent, on steering clear of tied-down relationships of the sort that tended to choke the life out of people. Growing up, she had witnessed the way her father controlled her mother, the ways he held his job, his money, his power over her head. Had seen how, out of duty and out of overwhelming love for the man, her mother had stayed.

The way Jo saw it, her mother was trapped. Trapped by love and, given the tenets of her faith, trapped forever. It was one of the reasons Jo had so carefully avoided commitment herself.

That was not the real issue now, of course. The issue was that she wanted—more than anything—to give into love. For as long as she had been running from commitment, she had known—or hoped, at least—that someday someone would come along and stop her in her tracks. Someone who would make doing so worth it.