“The
president seemed to think so,” she replied.
When
the curtain came down following the death scene, Su Ling remarked, “Have you
noticed that people are staring at us?” She paused. “I suppose we’ll just have
to get used to our son being a star.”
How
quickly she could bring Nat back down to earth, and what a governor’s wife she
would make.
The
cast and the parents were invited to join the principal for supper, so Nat and
Su Ling made their way over to his house.
“It’s
the nurse.”
“Yes,
she gave a very sensitive performance,” said Nat.
“No,
you fool, the nurse must have been the one Luke’s fallen for,” said Su Ling.
“What
makes you so sure of that?” asked Nat.
“Just
as the curtain came down, they held hands, and I’m fairly sure that wasn’t in
Shakespeare’s original stage directions,” said Su Ling.
“Well,
we’re about to find out if you’re right,” said Nat as they entered the
principal’s house.
They
found Luke sipping a Coke in the hallway. “Hi, Dad,” he said turning to face
them. “This is Kathy Marshall; she played the nurse.” Su Ling tried not to
smirk. “And this is my mother. Wasn’t Kathy fantastic? But then she plans to
major in drama at Sarah Lawrence.”
“Yes
she was, but you weren’t bad yourself,” said Nat. “We were both very proud of
you.”
“Have
you seen the play before, Mr. Cartwright?” asked Kathy.
“Yes,
when Su Ling and I visited Stratford.
The
nurse was played by Celia Johnson, but I don’t suppose you’ve even heard of
her.”
“Brief
Encounter,”
Kathy
responded immediately.
“Noel
Coward,” Luke said.
“And
Trevor Howard played opposite her,” said Kathy. Nat nodded at his son, who was
still dressed as Romeo.
“You
must be the first Romeo to have fallen for the nurse,” said Su Ling.
Kathy
grinned. “It’s his Oedipus complex,” she said. “And how did Miss Johnson
translate the part? When my drama teacher saw it as an undergraduate with Dame
Edith Evans, she said she played the nurse like a school matron-strict and
firm, but loving.”
“No,”
said Su Ling, “Celia Johnson portrayed her as slightly dotty, erratic but also
loving.”
“What
an interesting idea. I must look up the director. Of course I would like to
have played Juliet, but I’m just not good-looking enough,” she added Matter of
factly
.
“But
you’re beautiful,” said Luke.
“You’re
hardly a reliable judge on that subject, Luke,” she said, taking his hand.
“After all, you’ve been wearing glasses since the age of four.”
Nat
smiled, and thought how lucky Luke was to have Kathy as a friend.
“
Kathy,
would you like to come and spend a few days with us
during the summer vacation?” asked Nat.
“Yes,
if it’s not going to cause you too much trouble, Mr. Cart-wright,” Kathy
replied.
“Because I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”
“Be
in my way?” queried Nat.
“Yes,
Luke tells me that you’ll be running for governor.” local banker runs for
governor ran the banner headline in the Hartford Courant.
An
inside page was given over to a profile of the brilliant young financier who,
twenty-five years earlier, had been awarded the Medal of Honor, bringing his
career up to date with the role he’d played in the merger between the small
family bank of Russell’s, with its eleven local branches, and Fairchild’s with
its one hundred and two establishments spread right across the state. Nat
smiled when he recalled the confessional at St. Joseph’s, and the graceful way
Murray
Goldblatz
continued to convey the impression
that the original idea had been Nat’s. Nat had continued to learn from Murray,
who never lowered his guard or his standards.
The
Courant’s editorial suggested that Nat’s decision to run against Ralph Elliot
for the Republican nomination had opened up the contest, as both were
outstanding candidates at the top of their professions. The editorial did not
come out in favor of either man, but promised to report fairly on the duel
between the banker and the lawyer, who were known not to like each other.
“Mrs.
Hunter will also run,” they added in the final paragraph almost as an
afterthought, which summed up the Courant’s view on her chances now that Nat
had allowed his name to go forward.
Nat
felt well satisfied with the press and television coverage that followed his
announcement, and even more pleased by the favorable public reaction on the
street. Tom had taken a two-month leave of absence from the bank to run Nat’s
campaign, and Murray
Goldblatz
sent a substantial
check for the campaign fund.
The
first meeting was held at Tom’s home that evening, when Nat’s chief of staff
explained to his carefully selected team what they would be up against during
the next six weeks.
Rising
before the sun each morning, and collapsing in bed after midnight had few
compensations, but an unexpected one for Nat was Luke’s fascination with the
electoral process. He spent his vacation accompanying his father everywhere,
often with Kathy by his side. Nat grew to like her more and more as each day
passed.
Nat
took a little time getting used to the new routine, and being reminded by Tom
that you can’t bark out instructions to volunteers, and you must always thank
them, however little they’ve done and however badly they’ve done it. But even
with six speeches and a dozen meetings a day, the learning curve proved steep.
It
quickly became clear that Elliot had been out on the stump for several weeks, hoping
his early groundwork would give him an unassailable advantage. Nat soon
realized that although the first caucus in Ipswich would only yield seventeen
electoral votes, its importance was disproportionate to the numbers involved,
as in New Hampshire at a presidential election. He visited every one of the
caucus voters and never left in any doubt that Elliot had been there before
him. Although his rival had already locked up several delegates, there remained
a few
waverers
who were undecided or simply didn’t
trust the man.
As
the days slipped by, Nat discovered that he was always expected to be in two
places at once because the primary in Chelsea was only two days after the
caucus in Ipswich. Elliot was now spending most of his time in Chelsea, as he
considered he’d already wrapped up the Ipswich caucus.
Nat
returned to Ipswich on the night of the caucus vote, to hear the local chairman
announce that Elliot had captured ten of the votes while he had secured seven.
Elliot’s
team, while claiming it as a clear-cut victory, were
unable to hide their disappointment. As soon as he’d heard the result, Nat ran
to his car and Tom had him back in Chelsea by midnight.
To
his surprise, the local papers discounted the result in Ipswich, saying that
Chelsea, with an electorate of over eleven thousand, would be much more of an
indicator as to how the public felt about the two men rather than reading
anything into the views of a handful of party apparatchiks.
And
Nat certainly felt more relaxed out on the streets, in the shopping
malis
, at the factory gates, and in the schools and clubs
than he had been in smoke-filled rooms listening to people who believed it was
their “God-given right” to select the candidate.
After
a couple of weeks of pressing the flesh, Nat told Tom that he was very
encouraged by how many voters were saying they would support him. But was
Elliot receiving the same response, he wondered.
“I’ve
no idea,” said Tom as they drove off to yet another meeting, “but I can tell
you that we are fast running out of money. If we’re soundly beaten tomorrow, we
may have to withdraw from the race, having taken part in one of the shortest
campaigns in history.
We
could of course let the world know that Bush is backing you, because that would
be sure to swing a few votes.”
“No,”
said Nat firmly. “That was a private call, not an endorsement.”
“But
Elliot never stops talking about his trip to the White House with his old
friend George, as if it was a dinner for two.”
“And
how do you feel the rest of the Republican delegation feel about that?”
“That’s
far too subtle for the average voter,” suggested Tom.
“Never
underestimate them,” said Nat.
Nat
couldn’t recall much about the day of the Chelsea primary, except that he never
stopped moving. When it was announced just after midnight that Elliot had won
by 6,109 votes to 5,302 for Cartwright, Nat’s only question was, “Can we afford
to go on now that Elliot has gained a twenty-seven to ten lead among the
delegates?”
“The
patient is still breathing,” Tom replied, “but only just, so it’s on to
Hartford, and if Elliot wins that one as well, we won’t be able to stop his
bandwagon rolling all over us. Just be thankful you have a day job to go back
to,” he added with a smile.
Mrs.
Hunter, who had only picked up two electoral college votes, conceded defeat and
said she was withdrawing from the race and would be announcing in the near
future which candidate she would be supporting.
Nat
enjoyed returning to his hometown, where the people in the streets treated him
as a friend. Tom knew how much effort had to be put into Hartford, not only
because it was their last chance, but as the state capital it carried the most
electoral votes, nineteen in all, with the prehistoric rule of winner takes all,
so if Nat topped the poll, he would go into the lead, 29:27. If he lost, he
could unpack his bags and stay at home.
During
the campaign, the candidates were invited to attend several functions together,
but whenever they did, they rarely acknowledged each other’s presence, and
certainly never stopped for a chat.
With
three days to go to the primary, a poll in the Hartford Courant put Nat two
points ahead of his rival, and they reported that Mrs. Barbara Hunter was
throwing her support behind Cartwright. This was exactly the boost Nat’s
campaign needed. The following morning, he noticed that far more workers were
with him on the street, and many more passersby came up to shake him by the
hand.
He
was in Robinson’s Mall when the message came through from Murray
Goldblatz
, “I need to see you urgently.” Murray was not a
man to use the word urgent unless that was exactly what he meant.
Nat
left his team to go on canvassing, assuring them that he would return shortly.
They didn’t see him again that day.
When
Nat arrived at the bank, the receptionist told him that the chairman was in the
boardroom with Mr. and Mrs. Russell. Nat walked in and took his usual place
opposite Murray, but the expressions on the faces of his three colleagues
didn’t harbor glad tidings. Murray came quickly to the point. “I understand
that you have a town meeting tonight which both you and Elliot will be
addressing?”
“Yes,”
said Nat, “it’s the last major event before the vote tomorrow.”
“I
have a spy in the Elliot camp,” said Murray, “and she tells me that they have a
question planned for tonight that will derail your campaign, but she can’t find
out what it is, and daren’t be too inquisitive, in case they become suspicious.
Do you have any idea what it might be?”
“No,
I don’t,” said Nat.
“Perhaps
he’s found out about Julia,” said Tom quietly.
“Julia?”
said Murray, sounding puzzled.
“No,
not my wife,” said Tom.
“The first Mrs.
Kirkbridge
.”
“I
had no idea there was a first Mrs.
Kirkbridge
,” said
Murray.
“No
reason you should,” said Tom. “But I’ve always dreaded the thought that the
truth might come out.”
Murray
listened attentively as Tom recalled how he’d met the woman who passed herself
off as Julia
Kirkbridge
, and how she had signed the
bank’s check and then removed all the money from her account.
“Where
is that check now?” asked Murray.
“Somewhere
in the bowels of City Hall, would be my guess.”
“Then
we must assume that Elliot’s got his hands on it, but were you technically
breaking the law?”
“No,
but we didn’t keep to our written agreement with the council,” said Tom.
“And
the Cedar Wood project went on to be a huge success, making everyone involved a
handsome return,” added Nat.
“So,”
said Murray, “we are left with a choice. You either make a clean breast of it
and prepare a statement this afternoon, or wait until the bomb drops tonight
and hope you have an answer to every question that’s thrown at you.”
“What
do you recommend?” said Nat.
“I
would do nothing. First, my informant could be wrong, and second, the Cedar
Wood project may not be the curve ball, in which case you will have opened that
can of worms unnecessarily.”