by Mary Whitney
“Thanks, Lillian,” Anne said, patting her mother-in-law’s hand.
Stephen looked up at his mother, his eyes shining in a rare display of open emotion. “We couldn’t have done this without you, Mom.” He cleared his throat, though it didn’t mask the waver in his voice.
Lillian’s eyes misted as she beamed. “I’ve just always wanted my children to be happy.”
“Things are looking up. I bet we’ll see another bump in the polls.” Megan smiled. “You’ve been cleared by the Ethics Committee, and you’re no longer a joke on the late-night shows.”
Anne laughed. “I suppose we can thank Helen for that. Her sex tape gave Jay Leno enough material for years.”
“Or you could thank Mom and me,” said Patty, straightening her jacket in pride of a job well done. Her voice sobered, though. “We’re not out of the woods yet. There’s a lot of time left in this campaign, including the debate.”
“The debate. Yeah . . .” Stephen muttered with a nod.
Patty frowned. “Right. The debate. Don’t fuck it up.”
Few people actually watched a debate for a Senate seat, but the spin on who won and lost played in the media until Election Day. Davis Auditorium at the University of Denver hummed with murmurs and whispers as Langford and Stephen strode onto the stage. Before they headed to their podiums, they performed the customary handshake.
Stephen was pleasant. “Good evening, Dan. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Evening, Stephen. Nice to see you, too.” He smirked and side-eyed the row of the McEvoy clan. “And your family also.”
Stephen nodded, though he sensed there was meaning behind Langford’s otherwise benign comment. He walked to his podium and put on his microphone. He looked at Anne, who sat between a proud Lillian and determined Patty. Anne gave him a reassuring nod and grin, and he was more at ease.
When the debate began, both men started off well. Stephen hoped Langford might stumble on more complex topics, but he handled them with his down-home common sense. While they weren’t the more thorough and eloquent answers Stephen might give, they were effective. The debate appeared to be heading for a draw, and twinges of panic pinched at Stephen. He needed a decisive win, not a tepid tie. He glanced at Patty, whose expression was steadfast, though he knew she worried just like him. While Langford made the audience chuckle again at his corny jokes, Stephen straightened his tie as he tried to bolster his confidence. He knew what the next topic was going to be.
The moderator ventured into the issue everyone was waiting for. “This is a question for Senator McEvoy,” the moderator announced. He was a crusty television reporter for the local ABC affiliate who spoke in a voice which made people want to stand straighter. “While the Senate Ethics Committee cleared you of any wrongdoing, questions about your morality linger. What is your response to those who think you’re unfit for public office?”
Stephen kept his placid expression as he moved his pen aside on the podium. It was a practiced maneuver to signal a thoughtful statement on an issue. In this case, he was to deliver a message he’d done many times since his marriage to Anne—but this time the message would reach the widest audience. He wanted to make sure his statement was one which would define him. He looked ahead and spoke to the auditorium in a candid voice.
“I can understand why the public has an interest in a politician’s private life. After all, we’re people just like anyone, and it would be a lie by any politician who said they didn’t use their personal story to influence voters.” He gestured to Langford. “Both Dan and I have narratives about our lives which describe us and our values.” He moved his hands to grip the podium. “If the events of the last year hadn’t taken place, I’d still be standing before you with the same experiences I have today. I’d have a successful career as a district attorney and a strong record as a United States Senator, working in Washington, D.C. to better the lives of Coloradans. I’d also carry my family’s dedication to fighting for the interests of the poor and working class. But my life has changed in the last year. Today I also have a wonderful wife who I happened to meet on the job. That’s not such a different story than many Americans who find their partner at work.” Turning his head to Anne and the rest of his family, he said, “Anne Norwood McEvoy is a part of my family. I love her dearly, and I’m a better man because she’s in my life.” He smiled at Anne, who returned the grin while Lillian patted her arm.
Silence took over the room for a moment, until a few members of the audience began clapping. As the clapping became louder, the moderator interrupted, “May we please have quiet in the auditorium?” He turned to Langford. “Treasurer Langford, do you have any comment on Senator McEvoy’s answer?”
Langford looked down at his podium for a moment and frowned. For months, he’d barely commented on Stephen’s scandal, leaving the vitriol to his surrogates. Everyone in the room waited for him to finally address the question with his opponent only a few feet away. His head rose and stared into the camera. “I’d say that’s a nice sentiment, Stephen, but Coloradans care about family values.”
“Really?” Stephen asked without waiting for the moderator. “Well, then I don’t think there’s an issue here since both Anne’s and my family support us. But I disagree. I don’t think people are most concerned about family values—however you define them. I think most people care about things which impact their everyday life—and my personal life certainly doesn’t do that. What Coloradans really want are jobs that allow them to provide for their family. Good schools so their kids get better opportunities. Clean air and water so they can enjoy the outdoors. And a national defense to keep America safe and strong. Those are the issues I think this election is about.” Stephen stared Langford down, daring him to respond.
“Treasurer Langford, what do you think this election is about?” The moderator raised his eyebrows.
“Sending the right man to Washington,” he said with a nod as if to convince everyone around him he was the right guy.
Stephen gave a small smile and looked down; he knew he’d done well.
After the debate ended, the candidates’ families rushed the stage. Langford headed over to his wife and grown children, while Stephen met Anne midway.
As he hugged her, she leaned into his ear. “You were great, sweetheart. It went really well.”
Lillian said as she got the second hug, “Patrick would be so proud of you.”
Megan and Marco simply congratulated him and smiled as they handed over the newest McEvoy for the traditional politician-with-a-baby photo-op. Lillian McEvoy Zamora, or Lil, as she was called, smiled for her Uncle Stephen and the cameras.
Afterward, Patty touched Stephen’s arm. “I guess there’s some benefit to everyone thinking you’re political roadkill. People have low expectations of us now, so we’re doing great.”
“Thanks,” Stephen grumbled.
“I’m joking. Nice job.” She grinned, tugging at his suit coat. “I mean it. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Thanks, Patty. I’m glad it’s over,” he said before heaving a great sigh.
Greg offered his hand. “She’s right. It was awesome. Langford took the bait and imploded.” He grinned and predicted the outcome of the election with his next words. “Congratulations, Senator McEvoy.”
The day of the election Helen sat on a Mexican beach, checking the political headlines on her phone. “Tsk, tsk,” she said aloud. With a survey around the expansive beach, she saw no one was nearby. She smiled, saying to the palm tree, “I suppose the time has come.” She picked up her phone and soon said, “Good afternoon, Michaela. This is Senator Helen Sanders. How are you?”
Normally, Helen didn’t like drawing attention to herself or using her official title. She’d carry the title of Senator with her for life—whether or not she was in Congress—so she liked to throw it around when it was helpful. Speaking to a Washington Post reporter was just such an occasion.
“Hello, Senator Sanders. I’m fine. I hop
e you are, too,” the reporter answered. She sounded eager to hear from the disgraced senator. “What can I help you with today?”
“I’m glad you’re doing well,” Helen said as she looked out onto the ocean. “I’ve always liked your reporting, and I wanted to give you a tip—confidentially, of course, and the information must be embargoed until tomorrow. I don’t think it will be a problem because you’ll need some time to write the story, and you won’t want it buried in all the election coverage.”
“All right. I can offer you confidentiality, but I can’t promise an embargo. That, of course, depends on the nature of the story.”
Helen checked the time. It was late afternoon on the West Coast—late enough so that even if the story broke it wouldn’t hurt the Republican Party’s chances that day. “Okay. We can talk.”
“Go ahead and shoot. What do you have for me?”
“I’ve read a few of your stories lately on the FEC looking into campaign finance issues between Walter Smith and Dan Langford’s senate campaign.”
“That’s right. Do you know something about it?” the reporter asked in a leading voice.
“Not really, but I thought you might like another angle on the issue.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I happen to know Walter has been having extramarital affairs while he’s spending millions to attack Stephen McEvoy’s character. At least one has been with a public figure. I’m sure there are others.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I was one of his affairs.”
Michaela was silent for a second before asking in a firm voice, “Will you go on the record?”
“I’ll answer a yes/no question, but that’s all. You can do your own investigating of his other affairs. They won’t be hard to dig up.”
“Okay . . .” There was anticipation in Michaela’s voice. “So did you have a sexual relationship with Walter Smith this year?”
“Yes.” Helen smiled as she said it.
“Thank you,” Michaela chuckled.
“You’re welcome.”
“You know, if you don’t mind me asking—off the record—why are you doing this? Why do you want to take down one of the most influential Republicans? And why do you want to bring more attention to yourself? Don’t you want some privacy right now?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about me. I’ve already been raked over the coals. Now I’m doing fine, and I’m on an extended vacation.” She glanced at Mario, the cabana boy she’d shared a few nights with recently. He waved, and she raised her glass to him. “As for Walter, well you know this won’t really take him down. He’ll pay a fine to the FEC, and eventually, he’ll repair his reputation and relationship with his wife.”
“But he’s still going to be hurt by this. His whole private life will be exposed in the media. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Helen said with a giddy grin. “And I have to say—I like that idea.”
When the AP finally called the race for Stephen, he and his family were ensconced in a suite at a hotel, while his victory party went wild down in the ballroom.
As soon as Megan told him the news, he grabbed Anne ecstatically. “Come here.”
When he took her to one of the bedrooms, no one thought it strange he might want to savor the moment alone with his wife. He’d soon be standing among thousands and speaking before millions when he gave his victory speech.
Just as he closed the door, Anne pounced on him with a giant hug. “You did it. You did it! I’m so happy for you.”
“No, we did it. You and me.” He crushed his mouth to hers with a warm, needy kiss. Their entwined limbs, coupled with the headiness of the moment, made him groan in exultant delight. When he felt her unbuckle his belt, he stilled for a brief moment. “We don’t have time,” he mumbled unconvincingly against her lips.
“No one will notice if you’re a few minutes late.” Unbuttoning his pants, she kissed him again, but stopped when his phone rang. “You should get that.”
“Nah. Voice mail,” he said as he leaned into her again.
“It might be someone important.”
“Oh, all right,” he grumbled as he gave his phone a perfunctory check. He was about to put it down again when his eyes widened. “That’s a White House number.”
If there were ever one call he’d take while his wife was unbuttoning his trousers, it would be a call from the leader of the free world.
“Stephen McEvoy speaking.”
“Good evening, Senator McEvoy, this is White House operator Danielle Whitman. I have the President on the line for you.”
As she listened to the conversation, Anne smiled giddily, and she squeezed Stephen’s hand when she heard the President’s voice boom through the phone.
“Congratulations, Stephen.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Stephen replied with a smile. He squeezed Anne’s waist. “I’m very happy. It’s a wonderful feeling.”
“It is, isn’t it? Especially these days. Thank you very much for giving the party some good news. We’re short on it this November.”
“Well, it was a long time coming. I’m sorry it was such a nail-biter.”
“Oh, I always knew the McEvoys would pull it out. Please tell your mother congratulations for me.”
“I will. She’ll be honored,” Stephen said while Anne rubbed his shoulders.
“I hope to congratulate you in person soon.”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
“Please tell your wife congratulations, also. Carol and I both want to meet Anne.”
Anne’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at the President saying her name. Clutching her hand, Stephen smiled. “Anne and I look forward to it, Mr. President.”
