by K. T. Tomb
“Having said that, I also have loyalties to the cause of the Canarsee people; I’ve been studying ancient cultures for years, specializing in civilizations as far back as the Mayans. As a result, I have repeatedly seen things taken away from people. Some receive a chapter in a history book or a Hollywood movie if the screenwriters can make it sexy enough. Canarsee history is recent enough to revive the culture and we have the ability to help. They only want what has been taken from them and from the looks of it; they have the legal right to Manhattan.
“Then,” Abernathy cleared his throat. “We have Dr. Lightfoot. I’ve been a mentor to Linda for a long time. She’s a hell of a gal. I may be old but I’m not dead. I see the way you look at her Patch; you must agree that she is the complete package. She has brains, beauty and most importantly, integrity.
“I guess what I am saying is I am too involved to give my unbiased opinion. I do not intend to leave you blowing in the wind friend, but I am just going to step back and let the shit fall.”
Abernathy took a puff of his asthma inhaler.
“I understand, Abernathy; you are an honest friend. But isn’t it; let the cards fall where they may?”
“Shit, cards – whatever. Just let them fall. Remember the grey hair.”
“Abernathy, my hair is grey too. Albeit prematurely, but it’s still grey.”
Patch and Abernathy laughed. He opened his desk cabinet and took out the peace pipe. He placed it on his desk and Abernathy smiled approvingly. Soon, Nadine smelled the smoke emanating from the Mayor’s office. She was an efficient gatekeeper and made sure not to disturb Patch and Abernathy for the remainder of the day.
***
Linda was in Canarsee headquarters. Her office was triple the size of the one she had at NYU but it was a disorganized mess. She tried to keep it tidy but it was impossible due to the dynamic nature of her work. Her office was a hotbed of action. She was accustomed to a more subdued atmosphere. She thought it was as the mayor’s office might be like, which made her think of Patch. All roads in her mind recently had begun to lead back to Patch. She had to tell herself that she did not truly know the mayor of New York City. The man she knew was Morning Star and he no longer existed.
“May I have a word, Dr. Lightfoot?” asked Bess, also known as Blue Sky, who was her friend and aide.
“Come on in, Bess. We have been friends since childhood. You can drop the doctor crap. It’s plain old Linda. What do you have for me?”
“I have good news for once. Three independent entities have authenticated the lease. It’s what we believed all along but this makes it official so a press conference will be in order. We have a request that requires your attention from This Week. They would like to interview you for the show at ABC headquarters this Sunday.”
Bess waited for Linda’s reply.
“Yes, to both. Let’s do the press conference at the same spot we have been using at the Vanderbilt Gate entrance to the Park. I like it because the backdrop is lovely with the Conservatory Garden. It’s also historically rich and it shows that we respect that aspect of Central Park. I will handle my own speech. Regarding This Week, do you have the details?” Linda asked Bess.
“Um, yes. George Stephanopoulos is scheduled to conduct the interview.”
“Good. I know his wife casually and he is a sharp man. I sensethere is a caveat you haven’t mentioned.”
“Yes, Linda, you know me too well. You will be a part of a round-table discussion that is scheduled to include the mayor,” Bess added.
Linda grew sweaty at the mention of Patch. They were bound to come face-to-face at some point. She just wished it would be on a smaller stage. Reluctantly, she answered.
“That’s fine, Bess. Not perfect, but fine. I want to get a new suit for that one. Any suggestions?”
“Go with green Chanel. You will want to stand out in a sea of blue suited men.”
“I like your thinking. They’ll probably expect me to show up in some silly Native American poncho.”
Linda looked at Bess who was wearing a Native American poncho. She left the comment alone, as Bess knew her well enough to realize that she’d didn’t mean anything by it within the context of the conversation.
***
Linda was set to turn the lights out in her office. It was past midnight and she heard the hum of the vacuum cleaner that was used by the cleaning staff. They were approaching her office and boy, did it need the cleaning. There were footsteps approaching as someone was walking up the hallway. She was not afraid for her safety, she knew how to take care of herself. She was afraid of a reporter looking for a quote while she was tired and perhaps off-guard. She looked down the hallway and saw Chief Woebegone slowly making his way up to her. She turned the lights back on and ushered the man inside.
“Hello, Linda, my dear,” Woebegone greeted.
“Chief Woebegone, what brings you out at this hour? I’m aware you live in Brooklyn so I know you weren’t simply in the area.”
He took a seat among the chaos of Linda’s office.
“I cannot lie. I intended to come when it was certain that we could have privacy. I am too old to contend with an onslaught of media. I want to speak with you about the lease.”
“Please do Chief Woebegone; goodness knows, I need the counsel.”
Linda took a seat also. He laid his gentle wrinkled hand over hers.
“After so long, the discovery of the forgotten lease is an answer to my prayers; to see the Canarsee people reclaim the land which is rightfully ours makes my heart sing. It is the contention that it comes with that weighs heavy on my soul. For a long time I have been proud of the peaceful history held by our people. First, we had the unpleasantness with Pale Fox and the proposition that we will turn this place into a haven for gamblers. Now we are garnering the reputation of a litigious people.
I am old, but not yet dead and I see a blissful energy between you and the man they call Mayor Patch. He is kind and you are kind. You represent each side of this battle with pride and integrity. I do not like that it is in any way a battle. Linda, I am Chief in name only. I cannot direct you in the matter of what to do.”
“I appreciate the advice, Chief Woebegone. If we could settle this around a campfire, it would be easier. Unfortunately, we are in 2014 and we are talking about New York City. It is a world capital and the matter cannot be settled with a handshake – or an embrace. I love that you can come to me. I wish I had a peace pipe to share with you but I don’t even smoke,” Linda smiled.
“Do you drink?” He pulled a flask from his pocket. “It is Jim Beam. I heard he had some Indian blood.”
He took a gulp and passed the hand-carved silver container to Linda Lightfoot, who did the same.
***
Patch went to his brother’s apartment feeling the need to touch bases with him regarding the case. Nathan, along with just about every available attorney in the county was involved. He also wanted to avoid his penthouse because the media had taken to camping outside the building. Patch was reclining on the couch when Nathan arrived home.
“Hey bro, I didn’t expect you. What’s up? I won’t be here long, I’ve got a date tonight. You are welcome to stay as long as you want though,” he said quickly, then paused to look Patch over. “You look like shit,” Nathan added.
“I can always count on your honesty,” Patch shot back.
“Peace pipe?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah. Hey what is this date all about?” Patch asked.
“I am dipping my toes into the dating pool. The city attorney’s office is swimming with new women, most of them are from out of town. This woman is from New Delhi. She has a long name that I have a hard time pronouncing, so I call her Rina. We are going to check out some Indian grub. I’m sure there will be something on the menu to my liking.”
“Sounds like fun. You will find something to eat. It is one of the few sure things these days. What is the buzz surrounding the case? Patch asked.
“We’re expecting Lig
htfoot to announce the authenticity of the Canarsee lease this evening. She’s holding a press conference in about fifteen minutes. You’ll have to turn on the television to watch it.”
Patch nodded in agreement.
“It’s just a formality,” Nathan continued. “This thing is going to drag on for years. Appeals are ready to be filed the moment things don’t go our way.”
“Are we talking Superior Court or the State Supreme Court?”
“No, brother. They expect this to go all the way to the United States Supreme Court.”
“Expensive,” Patch stated.
“Unbelievably expensive. It will easily exceed dollars spent on any matter – ever. If the city continues to fight this, it will change the face of this nation. New York is where the people of the world do business. We won’t be taken seriously any longer and they will stop coming. New York will go bankrupt, comparable even to Detroit; a dead city. At least people are trying to turn Detroit around. I don’t see people caring as much for New York, as sad as it sounds. The public is already pissed off. We’re still trying to recover from 9/11 and Sandy. The difference with the Canarsee lease case is that it’s our own fault. We couldn’t stop the other tragedies before they happened. We know about this and we are letting it happen.”
“That is a pretty clear message, Nathan. You know what you’re talking about. What do you recommend?” Patch asked.
“I think you have to settle this thing. Stellar legal minds surround you; I think you have to cut a deal.”
Patch was quiet. It was apparent that he had some thinking to do. He reached over and clicked on Nathan’s enormous flat screen television. It was Linda Lightfoot declaring that the Canarsee lease was indeed authentic. She looked stunning in a cornflower blue silk blouse. Her jewelry was simple and her hair swept up. She spoke with authority. She was born to lead and had a command of the podium such as Patch had never seen. Linda also looked tired and a little sad, although most would not detect it.
Chapter Eleven
The Next Day
Patch woke up on Saturday morning. It would not be a typical weekend. He was supposed to have had time with Hillary but work got in the way. He planned a full day of mayoral duties and an early bedtime. He had to be fresh for his appearance on This Week. His thoughts returned to Hillary; he’d never had to cancel a weekend with her. Weekends were usually filled with openings or appearances that they could attend together, but the press and the protesters had gotten more aggressive in recent weeks. It was no longer fun or safe for his young daughter. The deal mentioned by Nathan was beginning to sound more appealing. He did not want this whole business to affect Hillary negatively.
The day moved along swiftly. As always, he spent a great deal of time in the back of his vehicle. It gave him time to read the newspapers. He still read quite a few of them the old-fashioned way on paper, but he always checked a few on his tablet as well. Seeing Linda in color on the CNN web page or Fox News, he followed both for balance, was an intense feeling. A feeling of longing and regret. As he continued to click through the screens, he suddenly realized that Nathan and Abernathy were right, it was feeling of love.
***
Patch laid out his clothes for the morning. He would wear a conservative blue suit and an ordinary striped tie. He thought of the scene he would create if he were to show up dressed as Morning Star and just for the fun of it, he tried the headdress on. It brought back a flood of bittersweet memories which he shook off as Monroe buzzed him from the front door.
“Yes, Monroe?” Patch answered the call.
“I am sorry to bother you sir. Ms. Juliet would like to come see you. Shall I allow her through?”
“Might as well, Monroe.”
The doorman, who was always on the mayor’s side, made her wait ten minutes. He enjoyed seeing her squirm.
“You can go up in a few minutes. The mayor is finishing some business. You look healthy Ms. Juliet. Maybe it is the few extra pounds. It suits you.”
Monroe smiled as Juliet cringed. He never liked the woman. Eventually, she made it to Patch’s suite and tapped on the door. Patch threw it open, expecting Hillary to be with her.
“Oh, where’s Hillary?”
“Hillary is with my sister. She loves her Aunt Ruby.”
Juliet went straight for the wet bar and pulled down a bottle of champagne.
“Old time’s sake?”
“No thanks, Juliet. Why is my daughter with that lush sister of yours?”
“Hillary is fine. Your name has been all over the news, Patch, I guess running for office again is out of the question but you could get a hell of a book deal out of this. Your face is everywhere so you’ll have the pick of speaking engagements. My PR person can handle all of the details. The whole public servant idea was cute but it is time to move on. Let that squaw on T.V. have New York. We can make our homes in London, Paris, Milan and even the Swiss Alps. Hillary and I need you, Patch.”
She’d played the Hillary card and called Linda a squaw all in one sitting and he noticed that she was wearing her wedding ring. Patch wanted to vomit or hit her over the head with the champagne bottle but he knew she would somehow get those antics in the paper.
“Juliet, we have a precious daughter together but we’re divorced. I’m not running away to Europe with you and putting my daughter in a boarding school. I am not abandoning this city – ever. One final thing before you leave; don’t ever call Dr. Linda Lightfoot a squaw again. You are not qualified to shine her shoes.”
“You’ll regret this, Vincent Patch. I have lawyers that can make this divorce even more expensive for you.”
“I have more attorneys than I can count. Getting more money from me would be like getting blood from a stone. Please don’t make me call security, Juliet. I am not sure if you had anything to drink before you came here but if you did, it was too much. I have to get to sleep for an early engagement in the morning.”
Juliet relented and left. Patch immediately called his daughter on her cell phone. She was happy and Ruby was sober. They were playing dress up. He realized that he had prejudged Ruby but he was satisfied Hillary was safe.
***
Linda decided to walk to ABC for her appearance on This Week. She carried the garment bag from Saks with her green suit. She walked the two miles in her faded jeans and an NYU sweatshirt. She had no make-up on because they would apply it for her and her hair was in a ponytail. Confidently, she stepped into the elevator.
Patch decided to walk to the ABC studios. A little exercise could never hurt. His suit was in a garment bag. His tie was shoved in the pocket of his jeans. He would have to be on point for the interview. He was not in the mood for politics. He entered the elevator.
“Linda, how are you?” Patch could not think of anything clever to say.
“I’m fine, Patch. We’re going in the same direction. It’s a short ride so I think we can endure it.” Linda pressed the button for the sixth floor.
They stood only a couple feet apart and it was terribly awkward.
BUMP
The elevator stalled between floors. Linda pounded the emergency buzzer.
“Hello. This is Dr. Linda Lightfoot. I am stuck in the elevator with Pat – Mayor Patch.”
A voice spoke back.
“Hello, Dr. Lightfoot. Please do not panic. We are aware of the problem, it’s a mechanical issue. You are in no danger and we will get you and the mayor out in about ten minutes.”
They stood there looking at each other, bewildered at their combined bad luck. Patch spoke first.
“This is unsettling. I’ve seen you on television. You look great out there.”
“Thanks, Patch. It doesn’t feel as good as I had hoped. I traipse out to the gates of Central Park and it just doesn’t feel good. I think of you following me down that tiny tunnel; now that was fun. All I seem to do these days is argue and debate, like we are about to do. The Canarsee were always happy people and now we are a group on the edge. It’s no fun at all.�
�
Linda shed a tear. Patch was ready to take her in his arms when the elevator door opened.
“Linda, wait,” he pleaded. “I need to talk to you.”
But it was too late. She was being swept away to hair and make-up.
George Stephanopoulos was an excellent host. The usual talking heads joined them. Both Linda and Patch spoke from memorized scripts supplied by the lawyers. They looked great doing it though, thanks to good lighting but they both hated it. When it was over, they bid each other a cordial goodbye and went their separate ways.
At home, Patch decided to take Spike for a walk. He had been neglecting his pooch in light of recent events. As usual, they headed to the ice cream parlor and shared a vanilla cone. The couple from the last time he had been in the parlor were there again. They were looking into each other's eyes and holding hands. They did not appear as though they had much but they were happy. It was touching.
The duo traveled home by way of the Park. Spike shied away from entering. Patch thought that the dog must have a good memory. Patch paused by the gate near the reservoir. One way gave him a view of the park. Then he turned and looked out at the city lights in the other direction. Patch smiled to himself and gave Spike a scratch on the head. He had made a decision.
***
Patch arrived at work early the next morning. He did not have a formal meeting with the city lawyers on his schedule.
“Dini, do me a favor. Start dialing as many folks as you can get from the Canarsee lawyer list and I will need a quorum of the council. Get all my top aides together and anyone else you think cares about stuff.”
