Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  Her rejoinder didn’t faze her grandmother at all – not that she’d expected it to – and Elizabeth raised both of her eyebrows as she ran her eyes over Charlotte’s face critically. “You’ve got circles dark as night under your eyes and you’re paler than you should be; you’ve been early into work and late to leave, and I doubt your work stops when you go home. You shouldn’t be surprised that I keep note of these things.”

  Charlotte’s jaw set even as she sighed a bit. She wasn’t surprised that her grandmother took note of her work habits; she was, proudly, her prodigy.

  Still. “I’m fine,” she stressed, sitting with her shoulders back.

  Elizabeth shot her a look, one that had made many diplomats wither before her. It made Charlotte feel somewhat at home.

  “If you are so fine, what are you doing napping in my office in the middle of a work day?” Elizabeth questioned, her eyebrow winged up in that probing manner she’d mastered so well.

  And then Charlotte’s hands tightened slightly on the envelope in her grasp; her focus relegated to the reason she’d sought out her grandmother in the first place. Her fingers tapped over the elegantly embossed writing on the front as she deliberated for a moment.

  “I wanted to ask your advice. About this,” she added on and held up the envelope for good measure.

  As though they were working in sync, her grandmother was already holding out her hand for Charlotte to give her the envelope just as Charlotte was giving it to her. Muffling a yawn – damn, she was sick of those today – she felt her stomach twist slightly as her grandmother pulled the contents out.

  The contents being an invitation.

  An invitation that had arrived just after lunch, delivered with her other mail at work. Amidst all of her work-related mail that had been dropped to her desk, was a stylish envelope that had drawn her attention.

  An envelope that held a formal invitation. To the annual Spencer Family New Year’s Eve event – personally inviting Charlotte to spend the evening at their family estate.

  She tracked her eyes over her grandmother’s facial expression as she took in the invitation before meeting Charlotte’s gaze. It was validating to know that they were of the same mindset. Because she’d first sought out Dean, given work place proximity. And he’d been more oblivious about it than she’d have liked, questioning why getting an invitation to a holiday party merited any extra thought.

  But her grandmother’s knowledgeable eyes met hers, that wise spark as evident as it was in her tone as she tapped the invitation against her leg, “Well. It would seem that you have been given quite the opportunity.”

  Quite the opportunity, indeed. Because as anyone in politics knew, the Spencer New Year’s Eve event was really the only gathering of all prominent northeastern politicians and highly reputable business and society members. It was, in theory, a networking heaven, given that the group of people there were typically a group who were fairly unreachable to break into and gain the trust of.

  “I know,” she replied slowly, and was even more irritated that her head felt a little cloudy at the moment. She needed to be able to process this from all fronts.

  “I haven’t even been granted one of these, my dear girl.” Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow, a slight mocking tone in her voice. Charlotte knew well enough that it was directed not to her but toward the Spencers, and that affiliated group in general, for having ranks so closed and “exclusive” that not even the President had been invited.

  But it made her scoff out a laugh and hold her hand out for the invitation to be given back. “I know,” she echoed herself.

  Her grandmother shook her head before she spoke, voice questioning in that impatient way she had, “If you know what a rare opportunity you’ve been given, I’m afraid I fail to see why you’ve sought out my council.”

  Charlotte’s stomach knotted – and not because she was feeling less than in perfect health. But because the way her name stared up at her from underneath Jack and Katherine Spencer invite you. Jack and Katherine Spencer. Invite her, Charlotte Thompson. To their home. To their holiday party that was so exclusive not even her grandmother – when she’d been the fucking President, and had known and worked cordially with Jack Spencer for years – had garnered an invitation.

  The words were difficult to form on her tongue. More difficult than words usually were between herself and the woman she considered her personal hero. “I’m. . . wary of the reasoning behind why I was given the invitation.”

  “You must have made quite the impression on the honorable Jack Spencer during his visit a few months ago,” Elizabeth shot back as she leaned back in the chair opposite Charlotte.

  “I’m not entirely certain that’s the reason I was given the invitation,” she admitted, biting her lip thoughtfully, debating what to add on.

  It wasn’t as though she wanted to say I think I’ve made far more of an impression on Katherine Spencer as her daughter’s friend – friend who I’m sleeping with, not that she hopefully knows that – than I did on Jack Spencer as a politician.

  Though Charlotte knew Sutton hadn’t told her mother about the true nature of their relationship, she also knew that Katherine was a smart woman. A smart woman who was very close to her daughter who was not a good liar, and who recently came out to her. She simply had been letting herself believe that nothing further had come from the inferences she could have made.

  She was saved, though, from figuring out how to voice her thoughts as her grandmother sipped from her tea before nodding and waving her hand. “You were invited because of your . . . friendship with the Spencer woman.”

  It took a moment – just a moment – for the words to settle in Charlotte’s cloudy mind, and she stared at her grandmother. “Well, yes.” She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by her grandmother knowing about her particular friendship with Sutton.

  Her grandmother knew everything.

  She knew everything and she had this little air of amusement with that revealing of her knowledge. It sparkled in her eyes right now and Charlotte huffed out a breath from her mouth – annoyingly, her nose was almost completely stuffed – falling back into the chaise once more, loathe to admit that it made her entire body feel relieved.

  Honestly it was best that her grandmother had just come out and said it. Because, frankly, Charlotte wasn’t in the business of trying to keep secrets from Elizabeth and even if she was, she certainly didn’t have the energy for it right now.

  “I didn’t make quite the impact on Jack Spencer as I had hoped to make when he’d visited a few months ago,” she reflected, rubbing her hand over her forehead and grimacing slightly.

  No, she’d been a bit preoccupied with the whole Sutton-being-Jack-Spencer’s-daughter aspect of it all.

  Her gaze fell to the invitation and narrowed as she continued, “So, though I’m not in any sort of formal. . . relationship with Sutton, I think that I’ve garnered a bit of interest from some members of the Spencer family because of all this.”

  Even though her thought process hadn’t been its best today, she’d had enough time to contemplate that. That even without the details laid out, Sutton’s family, her parents – her father, a politician whose support she was hoping to gain – knew she was involved in his daughter’s life.

  The uncomfortable tightness in her stomach and difficulty swallowing at the knowledge that her biggest concealed secret could be public threatened to make her feel nauseous. And the only thing that calmed her, really, was the knowledge that Jack and Katherine Spencer likely wouldn’t want to out their own daughter.

  She admitted, “I’m reluctant to accept an invitation gained not through my own merit.”

  If her friendship with Sutton was nonexistent and she’d received this elusive invite, she would be thrilled and would have already confirmed her attendance. A perfect time to network, to build strong political ties in a setting that few people were granted, earned by her work ethic and policy ideas.

  That would be a dream. />
  But that wasn’t the case, and it was giving her a sour taste in her mouth. Charlotte was fortunate to have been born to her family. She was more than fortunate to be raised with and learn from her grandmother. But Charlotte had also worked tirelessly to make a name for herself.

  This invitation was an opportunity that not many were afforded. But it also rankled and sat heavily on her shoulders with the almost certain knowledge that she’d been granted this opportunity not because of herself but because of her affiliation with someone else.

  “I thought that might be the case.” Elizabeth thoughtfully set down her cup with a sharp clink, before she shook her head. “And you know I’m not one to dance around stating my opinion.”

  “Certainly not something you’ve been known for,” Charlotte interjected, unable to stop a small smile at the way her grandmother scoffed at her.

  “So, I’ll tell you that regardless of the reason you received this invitation, you would be an idiot to miss it. As it is, the Spencer’s are far more likely to act as though they have no idea about their suspicions than to actually ask if you’ve corrupted their daughter in bed,” she snorted derisively. “Given that, you’ve no reason to not attend and win them over.”

  Her words rang true, despite the fact that she was still left with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Nerves, maybe, but she hated having them about an event that, in any other situation, should fall right into her wheelhouse.

  She squared her shoulders and nodded. “Simply because this invitation isn’t based on my own repute doesn’t mean future ones won’t be.”

  Not after she made a favorable impression on the people in attendance this year, anyway, and subsequently – hopefully – won this election. Now, it just had to be her mission to accept and gain favor.

  Elizabeth grinned with a look of approval that Charlotte had basked in from an early age. “That’s the idea.” She was contemplative for a moment, aiming a look at Charlotte that set off an alarm bell before her grandmother even asked, “And what does your Spencer girl have to say about this invitation?”

  Charlotte’s eyebrows rose on her forehead as her stomach churned again at the term your Spencer girl – and it wasn’t a feeling that was making her feel even more sick . . . but it was . . . unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

  Many things with Sutton were like that. Unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable but in a way that wasn’t necessarily that bad.

  “She’s not . . .” She cut off her denial, knowing that she didn’t want to protest too much. “I haven’t discussed it with Sutton.”

  She hadn’t seen Sutton very much in the last few days, anyway. Not since running into her at Topped Off, when Sutton had been making her list about whether or not to apply for an internship.

  The fact that Charlotte saw her own name on the list of cons . . . well, it gave her a jolt of unease. Not that she really should think overly into it, really, because in the brief moments she’d had to skim the list over Sutton’s shoulder before alerting her to her presence, she’d also seen Regan’s name on that list. It didn’t have to mean something in a romantic sense.

  And yet, it was a strong enough feeling that it had helped her to urge Sutton to apply. It was a good opportunity and Sutton should apply for it regardless of whoever was on the cons list - Charlotte truly did believe that.

  At her very core, she believed that no one should give up any opportunity they wanted for anyone else; it was how she intended to live.

  And if the thought of Sutton leaving for six months gave her a momentary pause, Charlotte couldn’t let herself get caught up on that. Sutton was, in essence, her closest friend. Of course she didn’t want her to be gone.

  She would miss that. She would miss their physical relationship. It was all something she didn’t want to look too closely at, especially not when she had so much else to focus on at the moment. If Sutton was accepted – and Charlotte was sure she would be, because Sutton was intelligent and charming, far more than she even gave herself credit for – and subsequently decided to go, she would deal with it as it happened.

  Deal with it and be absolutely fine; friends were friends despite the distance. Even if, granted, Charlotte was very much used to having Sutton around. Frankly, it was an entire thing that Charlotte did not want to think about.

  And because this debate was happening so soon and Charlotte felt this immense pressure sitting on her shoulders from it, she didn’t really have time to think about it anyway.

  Elizabeth stood up and walked to her desk, running a finger down her agenda, before she turned back to face Charlotte. “The fact of the matter is this: nothing was handed to me on my political rise. I was underestimated and overlooked far too often. Something I’ve learned is that when you’re given an opportunity, typically there are two reasons: either someone wants something in return and you need to be cautious, or in rare moments, you’ve hit a spot of fortune. In those rare times that leave you beholden to no one . . .” She trailed off, tilting her head meaningfully.

  Charlotte picked up on all that was unspoken and nodded. “Then you’d be an idiot not to take advantage of it. I’d be an idiot not to,” she finished with a murmur, as she smoothed her fingers over the invitation before leaning down and slipping it into her purse.

  “You know what else you’d be an idiot to do?” She posed the question harshly, but there was softness in her eyes as she walked close enough to press her hand to the top of Charlotte’s head, “If you didn’t go home to recuperate before you feel worse.”

  It took effort for Charlotte not to roll her eyes or pout, and that alone was enough to tell her that she truly was experiencing a cold; this exhaustion was getting to her.

  Even so, she took a deep breath and shook her head in refusal. “I can’t; I have a department meeting this afternoon with Dean and some paperwork to catch up on. This isn’t the time to be taking things easy; my debate with Naomi is in less than a week.”

  Her mouth snapped shut as her grandmother tapped her smartly on the chin. “Your debate is in less than a week, and you need to be recovered enough so that you aren’t looking like you crawled out of a sewer live on camera. Your debate is exactly my point; you’re working yourself into exhaustion over it.”

  The sewer comparison made Charlotte frown; there was no way she looked that bad.

  “Besides, dear, you have a big future ahead of you – do you know how many sick days you’ll wish you could take? I was in the office –”

  “Less than a week after you had surgery on your knee. I know,” Charlotte finished with a small smile, tilting her head back to look at her. She’d been at her side as much as her grandmother would allow during that time, acting as a somewhat intern during her summer break in high school.

  She aimed her a questioning look. “Doesn’t that mean that I should be working through the pain, so to speak?”

  “It means that I have the utmost faith that you will be in my position one day. So I’m telling you now to take a day off while you can afford to.” Her tone offered no room for arguments.

  Still, a part of her resisted. Even though her limbs felt heavy and her head felt too full. With a small sigh, she suppressed a yawn and forced herself to stand up. “Perhaps I will this afternoon. Maybe I’ll leave a little early. After my department meeting.”

  That would work. She would do as much paperwork as she could manage after downing some more ibuprofen when she was back at her desk and make it through the meeting. But, for once, she wouldn’t stay late.

  Compromise.

  Elizabeth gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’ll see you on Sunday for afternoon tea; we’ll review debate points together. Now, rest tonight,” she directed.

  Charlotte grinned back. As much as her schedule had been busy and as much as she’d had going on in her personal life . . . she’d missed her when she’d been dealing with the foundation headquarters in DC. She always did.

  She walked a bit slower than usual back to City Hall. It admitted
ly was because when she walked at her typical brisk pace, the world seemed like it was spinning a little too fast.

  She was seriously considering the advantages of sequestering herself away into Dean’s office for a power nap to get her through the afternoon when she saw it. More aptly, saw her.

  A copy of the New York Times that Charlotte had yet to see today had been left for her on her desk. She looked around at her coworkers but was only met with the familiar sight of people working and a few caught her eyes with small smiles of acknowledgement before they went back to their work. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  But her lips were already pursed in agitation as she looked back down to the paper. A picture of Naomi Young – one of her few official campaign pictures – was printed at the top, slotted above the front page interview.

  The political world has had all eyes on the campaign for the unoccupied seat in the House of Representatives, vacated by the late John Kelvin. Candidates Naomi Young and Charlotte Thompson have been engaged in a hard-fought and spirited campaign for the past three months.

  For those just joining us in this impassioned campaign, Young is the daughter of former President, Charles Young, who was unseated by Thompson’s grandmother, Elizabeth Thompson. Given this family history, there was bound to be an embittered campaign from the start.

  Given the call for a special election, Young and Thompson will have a total of six months to run a full campaign. With those six months halfway over, we are closing in on an informal debate between the candidates.

  Imani Diop has the final interview with candidate Naomi Young before the debate:

  Diop: It’s been reported that you and Charlotte Thompson have yet to meet face-to-face during the official campaign. Is this correct?

  Young: Yes, that is correct. I presume we’re both waiting until the official debate to fully come to a head. Though we’ve all certainly seen her around, haven’t we? [quiet laughter]