by Sally Quinn
“We’ll need to meet and talk occasionally. We could even meet in underground garages at night—all very clandestine.”
“I must say you’re making it sound very attractive. You know you really are an evil girl, Sterling.”
“Person,” she joked. “I’m an evil person.”
“That too. I’d be fingered as a prime leaker. I wouldn’t be trusted ever again.”
“I’d disguise you in print… ‘a source second only to the President’?”
“Yes, but will you respect me in the morning if I agree to be your source in the White House?”
The conversation wavered in and out. They were walking a tightrope. Allison was a little surprised at herself, at how bold she was being. Yet he was encouraging it.
“I just can’t tell if you’re serious or not. You’ve had a mischievous look in your eyes on and off all evening, Allison.”
“Sonny, please.”
“Thank you. I’m flattered.”
“I’ve just been trying to keep the conversation going,” she said. “I thought you might be amused.”
“I’m not sure amused is the right word,” said Rosey. “Fascinated, maybe.” He paused. “How did we get started on this, anyway? Oh, yes, we were talking about Corwin. There was something in your tone of voice when you mentioned him that made me think you weren’t crazy about him. What is it you don’t like about him? Please be candid. None of your usual wishy-washy answers.”
“When Des and I first started seeing each other we went to a party at old Mrs. Randolph’s, shortly before she died. It was a very high-powered group. We followed the Corwins and overheard the Senator saying to his wife about us, ‘You take him; I’ll take her.’ ”
Just then Lorraine came over to Rosey and leaned over his shoulder.
“We’re about to bring out the birthday cakes and sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” she said. “Then I’d like to ask you to begin the toasts.”
“Toasts?” moaned Allison. “Please, no toasts.”
“Now, Sonny, just relax.”
The toasts, as Allison later told Des, were a litmus test of the various guests and the degree of their raised consciousness.
Rosey was the perfect Southern gentleman, referring to Allison’s and Sadie’s beauty, wit, charm, and intelligence.
Allison thought it was a rather uninspired but safe toast.
As the toasts went forward, Allison and Sadie sat with frozen smiles.
When Rosey sat down, Howard Heinrich stood up.
“I’m making this toast by proxy,” he said, after having tinkled loudly on his wineglass with his fork.
“The President asked me to toast the two birthday girls for him, and I told him I would be delighted.”
Amazing. Howard had maneuvered himself into speaking for the President. He had managed to one-up everybody.
“Although,” he said with an overdone chuckle, “the President specifically wanted me to make sure that I toasted the birthday ‘persons.’ ” He waited for the laughter, then looked up and nodded at Allison. She forced a laugh.
“And to say that he would like everyone in this room to stand up and join him in a toast to, and I quote, ‘my two favorite women in Washington, after my own Molly.’ ”
The guests all stood and lifted their glasses to the glassy faces at opposite sides of the room, murmuring, “Hear, hear.”
Bud Corwin couldn’t stand it. He had to get up and say something.
“I’d like to drink to two great gals,” he said. There was a perceptible moan from the group at large.
Lorraine stood. “I may be the only female here to stand up and speak, but I thought there should be one of us. I just want to say that I can’t remember when in Washington there was a gathering of this magnitude, of this many successful, powerful, and influential people to honor any woman. And tonight we are honoring two. That there are two such women to honor speaks well for Washington, for our times, and for the women themselves. To Allison and Sadie.”
There was some cheering, and people relaxed a bit more.
O’Grady stood up. There was much hooting and jeering from the journalists.
“Shut up,” said O’Grady.
“Oooooooooh,” shouted the journalists.
“None of you has the guts to get up in front of all these big muckety-mucks and toast your friends. But no one can say that Francis O’Grady is chicken. Now, I don’t know Mrs. Grey as well as I do Sterling, and much is the pity, and here’s hoping that I will soon, but I will say the two of you darlin’ things look like you’ve kissed the Blarney Stone and I’d like ye all to drink to that.”
Things were getting raucous, and the politicians were beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. Up until now the journalists had been on their best behavior. Now they were getting rowdy. The party had definitely changed hands.
Des finally stood up. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled everyone to order. Nobody wanted to come to order. Des whistled again. “This will be short.”
A round of applause and more cheering.
“I want everybody to drink a toast to two spectacular dames,” said Des. “That’s it.”
The guests all stood and raised their glasses again.
It was the first time all evening that both Sonny and Sadie had genuine smiles on their faces.
Suddenly there was a small commotion at the door and then a flurry of excitement. Everyone looked up as John T. Hooker, the crusty old Secretary of State, strode in. Lorraine jumped up from her seat as though she had been shot. She could tell immediately that he had been drinking. Business at the State Department had been the reason why he couldn’t be at the dinner. Lorraine had heard about John T.’s private bar in the Secretary’s office. And she could see by his jolly expression that he had managed to weather the crisis fairly well.
“I want to make a toast,” John T. told Lorraine in a voice loud enough for all to hear. He was standing at the top of the stairs, his hand on the rail.
He was an amazing-looking man: in his early seventies, still straight and over six feet tall, with a mane of beautiful sweeping white hair that he wore almost shoulder length. His face was usually flushed red, his silver-blue eyes changed to steely gray when he was angry, and his beaked nose seemed to reproach anyone who looked askance. He always dressed in black three-piece suits with a black bow tie.
Lorraine hit a glass on the side with a piece of silver to get everyone’s attention. She needn’t have. They were already rapt.
He began with an oration. He was known for his fine rhetoric on the Senate floor, though it was considered florid and windy.
“I would like to drink a toast to the President of the United States.”
There was a low mumble among the crowd. This was not the toast to make to a group of journalists.
Howard Heinrich was the first on his feet—a little too fast, everyone noticed. “To the President of the United States,” reiterated Howard, raising his glass.
“To this great country on the eve of our celebration of Independence,” said John T.
Howard was kind of stuck. He continued to stand while everyone sat down and then was left there as the cheerleader. Most of the journalists were letting him stand there out of pure meanness until Bud Corwin jumped up and repeated John T.’s second toast.
Finally, after waxing eloquent about the Fourth of July and Independence Day and what it meant to Americans, Hooker paused for effect, his voice taking on a histrionic roll.
“And now, distinguished ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I would like to propose a toast to the two fine women here tonight who are the embodiment and the personification of what this country’s womanhood should be all about. They represent the independence of spirit and soul that this great country was founded on. And so, I ask all of you, in the name of our President and our great nation, to stand and drink a toast to these two noble women.”
Everyone rose. Nobody wanted to provoke Hooker. At first everyone drank silently,
but Des, who was now feeling no pain, shouted, “Hear, hear; I’ll drink to that. Not bad, Mr. Secretary, not bad, not bad at all. I’d like to propose a final toast of the evening to John T. Hooker’s entrance tonight. May it never be surpassed in our nation’s capital.”
It was the perfect thing to say. John T. beamed. He knew he had made a brilliant entrance. He was pleased to see it appreciated. The group roared its approval.
Some of the guests began banging on the table. “Response, response,” they chanted, looking at both Allison and Sadie.
They both closed their eyes. Finally, Sadie stood up. It was not such an unfamiliar thing for her to do. As a candidate’s wife she had had to speak often, and she was perfectly comfortable with it.
“I’ll be brief, because Allison is the public speaker here,” she said sweetly.
“All I want to say is that this ‘little gal’ [She got a few laughs] has certainly appreciated all the generosity and kindness displayed here tonight. And frankly, I haven’t seen anything else since I came to Washington. Everyone said this was a tough town to make friends in, but I haven’t found it that way at all. And tonight is just another example of the kind of warmth and friendship I have come to expect here. I want to thank you all and to tell you how much I have come to love your city in such a short time.”
There was enthusiastic applause. Des smiled at her when she sat down. She hadn’t realized she was shaking. Rosey looked over at her and winked his approval.
It was Allison’s turn. She stood up.
“I would like to toast modern times,” said Allison. “Only in this liberated age could two women be celebrated at the same party and be amused.”
Everyone laughed, though there was a slight edge to the mirth.
Allison raised her glass. “And I would like everyone to drink a toast to Sadie Grey. For being such a good sport tonight, and to welcome her to Washington. May the rest of her stay here be as happy as the beginning.”
CHAPTER 5
Sadie had been holding off going to Millicent. Rosey was against it. “How would it look for the wife of the Vice President to go to an astrologer? And don’t think she wouldn’t use it. It would be in every magazine and paper in the country. You would be her prize client. That woman is dangerous. I understand she is the most indiscreet person in Washington. You’ll confide in her and our personal lives will be all over town.”
They were having a drink in the upstairs sitting room one evening in late September.
“I think you’re making up all those things about Millicent.”
“Suit yourself. If you want to believe that, it’s fine with me. But just keep away from her. Frankly, I don’t understand how Lorraine could have given you a reading with Millicent as a birthday present. I suppose she gave Allison Sterling one too?”
“That’s what she says. I haven’t talked to Allison lately.”
“Well, I surely can’t imagine her going. She’s got too much sense for that.”
“And I don’t have any sense.”
“If you go to that quack.”
“And I suppose you would say the same thing to John T.? You do realize, of course, that our Secretary of State has gone to Millicent for years?”
“What are you talking about, Sadie?”
“Hooker has been having readings by Millicent for many years and still does.”
“That’s preposterous. I don’t believe it.”
“Suit yourself. If you don’t want to believe it, well, that’s fine with me. Claire Elgin goes and so does Helene Corwin, and for that matter, so does Jake Weston. Millicent told Jake he was going to get the big network anchor job long before he was ever even talked to about it. Jake was stunned.”
“So Jake Weston is a fool.”
“I thought you liked him. You always say he is your favorite anchorman.”
“He was.”
“I suppose you feel the same way about Hooker.”
“If you’re going to try to get me to jump on the Secretary of State, you can forget it. But if what you say is true, I am genuinely shocked. I don’t want you to do it.”
“Rosey, where is your sense of humor? You used to have one.…”
He stared at her.
“Well, I am going to Millicent. And I will venture that your political reputation will not be destroyed because of it.”
She got up to pour herself another drink. Rosey didn’t say a word.
* * *
“Oh, God, what am I going to do about this thing with Millicent? Lorraine has been after me for the past month about it. I think she’s already paid her two hundred dollars.”
“So go. What’s the big deal?”
“Des, it’s ridiculous. Besides, I don’t want Millicent to be able to throw around my name the next time somebody comes to interview her. ‘Among her clients is reporter Allison Sterling.…”
“Don’t take yourself so seriously. All it is is a joke. Of course it’s a pile of crap. But Millicent is an institution. A lot of people in this town go to her. I would think as a reporter you would look at it as a little sociological investigation. Observing the Washington scene.”
They were sitting in Allison’s house on Olive Street, upstairs in the little chapel, having a drink after work.
“Of course, then there’s another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the problem of gifts. Do I allow Lorraine to give me an expensive present? It makes me uneasy.”
“Look, Lorraine is a friend of yours.”
“True, but she’s still a public personality.”
“Have you ever written about her?”
“No. But—”
“Do you think you might write about her?”
“I can’t think why. Oh, I might quote her, but I wouldn’t write specifically about her.”
“Do you ever exchange gifts? Have you ever given her a present?”
“Christmas presents. Not much. I mean, I’ll give her a wicker basket and she’ll give me some batik cocktail napkins. But nothing of importance; nothing that costs two hundred dollars.”
“Look, Sonny, I think you’re agonizing over nothing. If you don’t want to go to Millicent, then don’t go. But you can’t put it off on conflict of interest. A good friend of yours has given you a birthday present. It might be a little more than you would spend on her, but it’s not out of the question.”
“What if people found out that I had gone to Millicent? I would be laughed at.”
“Of course people will find out. Because you’re going to tell them. Or I will.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean where is your sense of humor? You could dine out on it for weeks. People are always titillated by astrology. I’ll bet Sadie Grey will go. She gave her a reading too, I presume.”
“So she said. And, I might add, Sadie Grey’s going is a very good reason for me not to go. ‘Oh, Mistah Shaw, Ah went to this little ol’ astrologeah and she tol’ me that I had a great big ol’ crush on a big ol’ strong handsome journalist with curly black hair and the most devastatin’ smile.’ You turn into a complete half-wit when you get around that woman.”
“Now, Sonny, calm yourself.” Des was amused. It did turn him on to see Allison get so aroused about Sadie. “We were, after all, talking about Millicent. We were not talking about Sadie Grey. Are you going to go?”
“Yes. I am going, and I am going to take your exact moment of birth, and I will get her to read for you as well, and I will tell everyone in Washington about it. That’s what I’m going to do.”
* * *
“Millicent darling. I want you to take it easy on Sadie Grey. Don’t tell her a lot of horrible things. She’s a very fragile girl, though she may not look like it. She’s also a dear. You’ll love her. And she will be a good client of yours. But you must understand her husband is very much against her coming to you. He is furious with me. And I must say, for a very good reason. He has heard, my dear Millicent, pained as I a
m to tell you this, that you are not the most discreet person in Washington. That you are often tempted to pass along a little delicious nugget or two from one client to the next. Now, don’t say a word, Millicent; what I am saying is the God’s truth. I’m not making any judgments, I’m not being critical. I’m only saying that if you want to keep this client you’ll keep your mouth shut. And by the way, old girl, I know you can do it because you’ve done it with Hooker. You’ve never breathed one word. Of course, I suspect that is because there’s been a little more to your readings with John T. than astrology. But… that’s just instinct. Don’t bother to deny it. I’m never going to say a thing about it. Besides, I think it would be marvelous if you and John T. had something going. I’ve often wondered how you could stand such a lonely existence. But then, that’s something we all have to face sooner or later.
“I’ve really got to run, Millicent darling; I’m desperately late for lunch. But do promise me that you’ll be sweet and gentle with Sadie. And for God’s sake, don’t tell her anything gloomy like Saturn is retrograde. Upbeat, upbeat, that’s our word for the day. I’ll call you this evening for a full report. Ciao.”
* * *
Millicent was excited. Sadie Grey! She had heard and read a lot about her. She devoured every morsel of gossip as though it were her last meal. One of the things that were so satisfying about her work was that she picked up so much gossip during the readings. People confided in their astrologers. It was like being a combination hairdresser, doctor, and shrink. And you didn’t have to take the Hippocratic oath, though certainly she tried to maintain the illusion of being discreet.
Millicent stepped from her living room into her dressing room to check one last time to make sure she looked all right. Her silver hair was set perfectly, curled and swept back off her face in a slight bouffant that gave her the definite look of a grande dame. Her smooth skin belied her sixty-eight years; her pale, watery blue eyes only helped to add color to her face. Her beaked nose and defined jaw kept her from being the great beauty she had always longed to be, but her carriage gave her an aura of importance. When people first met Millicent, they knew they were in the presence of somebody to be reckoned with.
