He left.
Now what? Plan B or retrench? She looked out and the future gaped in front of her, empty. She hadn’t felt this way since she had broken her engagement to Peter six years ago. Just for an instant. That was scary enough. Nothing had changed. She still had too much to do and no time for him or having his babies. The weight of that pressed on her and the tears sprang without a thought.
She jerked back from the window as if to save herself from falling. Time to look away from all of that.
She swiped her cheek with a shaky hand and then picked up the phone in spite of the fact that it was 3:00 a.m. now. Sarah’s answering machine came on.
“First thing tomorrow I’m going to change my registration to independent of a political party.” She hung up and folded her arms. No sense hesitating about Plan B. Maybe she should have warned him about it. She scoffed at herself and renewed her resolve to treat him as she would treat any other opponent in his shoes, with the appropriate respect, but not as if they had once been lovers, engaged to be married.
Then she dialed his home number and left a message on his machine. To warn him. Because they really had once been lovers, engaged to be married.
Chapter 3
“That bitch! What the hell did you say to her last night?” Rick Racer slammed his fist down on the answering machine.
“I warned you that my past relationship with her could work against me.” Peter found himself wishing he’d been wrong about that. He stopped himself short of wishing things had been different six years ago.
“Now she’s purposely sabotaging our campaign by splitting our vote. Instead of joining us she’s sinking us! Why would she want the other party to win?” Rick spun around to look at Peter in the middle of his tirade. They had just listened to Madeline’s message that she was going to run independent. Peter sat calmly without making a comment. He wasn’t about to add fuel to the fire of his campaign manager’s temper by discussing the gory details of his visit. Peter had to admit that Rick had good reason for the outburst.
“She must really hate you after all. I didn’t think she was the spiteful type. I guess she had me fooled, and I should know better.” Rick snorted in disgust.
Then he made a derisive sound that Peter supposed was a laugh. Peter sat nursing his coffee, staring out the window.
“Take it easy, Rick. She’s not trying to sabotage us. Anyone else, I would agree. But not her. Madeline is running because she has some great ambition to make an impact—some greater purpose. This is not about spite.” Peter only wished it were.
“You’re crazy. And you better stop thinking that way. She’s really screwed with your mind if you believe that, PJD.”
Peter looked at his friend with narrowed eyes and reined in his temper. “I think I know her better than you do. She is very serious about some things.”
“I guess this means convincing her to join us as lieutenant governor is out of the question?”
“No. But it will take some doing. I’m not sure if I can convince her now. But I will try my damnedest. Time is on our side. She has an entire summer of primary campaigning to survive without disappearing from the media’s radar screen.”
“And how are you going to convince her if she’s so high-minded in her goals? She’s obviously out of control. How could her people let her make a move like this?” Rick turned. “Maybe we could get to someone in her organization. They can’t all be blind.”
“No. But they may all be good. Too good to listen to you.” Peter looked at his campaign manager, dead serious. He didn’t like Rick’s line of thinking. He supposed it was to be expected. For Rick it was about winning the race—only. But he could control Rick.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rick looked back at him.
Peter shook his head and chuckled, knowing he could not explain. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. She’s inexperienced. She’s made a big mistake. People will not take her seriously. She may even be overestimating herself,” Peter assured his friend. Rick seemed somewhat mollified. Peter turned to look out the window. “In any event, she’s definitely overestimating the people.” He said it more to himself than anyone.
“I guess you’re right. We’ll pick apart this change-of-party decision as a major faux pas, to be expected of a political neophyte, and cash in on that for all it’s worth. I guess it won’t be so hard. She’s not very careful. That much I’ve seen. She figures it’ll all come out in the wash. But I’ll see that the stains stick.” Rick hardly took a breath.
“Nice metaphor, Rick. Five points.”
Rick laughed. Peter did not share his campaign manager’s relief.
In fact, Peter was more troubled than before. This was bad. Either he or Madeline would lose and whoever it was, it was bound to be a painful process for them both. And that wasn’t counting the secret of their past coming out. He wasn’t thinking of the engagement. That so-called secret would be minor to contend with. Compared to the incident that led to their break-up. It was a routine thing really. Not a big deal. Unless you were running for governor.
“The papers are officially sealed, stamped and filed. I am now officially in the race on my own. No party.” Madeline stood on the threshold of her hotel suite. She grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. As a result, two people collided and papers flew. Either their staff had grown or the room was shrinking. She stepped in and bent to help pick up the papers until Sarah walked in.
“What are you doing?” Sarah grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up and through the room past the now gaping staff. Valerie winked.
“Yes, leave that to one of us peasants. Go rule your kingdom.” Valerie turned and helped with the papers on the floor. Madeline let half her smile out at the glare on Sarah’s face, but she went through the door into the inner sanctum. Jon and Morty were there. She was glad to see everyone still there and smiling after her briefing about her past with Peter that morning. Nothing like a little intrigue to keep the troops intrigued.
“You filed?” Sarah was serious, so Madeline nodded. Sarah glanced at her watch. “I figure we have another fifteen minutes, tops, before we have to start answering calls.”
“The staff is ready.” Jonathan winked.
“And then I have to get ready for the Physicians for Humanity award banquet tonight,” Madeline reminded them. She wasn’t sure she liked the gleam in Sarah’s eyes at that reminder.
The Physicians for Humanity Award Banquet
The radio was on when she walked into the backstage dressing room. This was the sixth year she’d been invited to present the awards. Becoming a Pulitzer Prize winner did that for people, she supposed. She was thinking this when the radio announcer trumpeted the start of the newscast. Then she paid attention.
“This morning the famed Pulitzer Prize-winning author and noted psychology professor, Madeline Grace, filed papers to run as an independent candidate for governor in an unprecedented move to make this a three-way race after the primaries, the secretary of state’s office confirmed…”
She turned it off and took her seat, watching Dr. Barrett in the mirror. He tossed a newspaper in front of her.
“Your point is?” Madeline asked.
“You couldn’t have timed your announcement better if you were planning to launch your new campaign from my stage.” He folded his arms, pressed his lips together and completed the caricature of the disappointed schoolmaster when he started tapping his toe.
“I can truthfully say that I wasn’t even thinking of this event when I filed my papers today. There are deadlines. But don’t worry, I know this occasion is important and I’ll make sure it’s not overshadowed by politics. In fact, maybe we can both benefit.” She smiled at him, thinking she could probably carry it off. He waved his hand. She didn’t want to be responsible for his ulcer acting up.
“You and your famous synergy.” He eyed her with skepticism. She saw that he wanted to believe her. He contemplated her while he continued to tap his foot.
“It w
ill be all about the physicians. If they stick reeds under my nails, they won’t get a syllable out of me about the campaign.”
“Did you know I had more than fifty requests for media credentials? I doubt they’re all here to do a story about dedicated doctors. If it was just you, that would be one thing. But I’m afraid politics will definitely take over tonight with both of you out there.”
As if on cue, Peter John Douglas walked in the door.
“If it isn’t the famed Pulitzer Prize-winning psychologist turned party-line politician turned independent candidate for governor, Madeline Grace. She certainly is flexible, isn’t she, Doc?” Peter spoke with a lightness that did not fool her. He sat in the chair next to her and shook his head without saying a word to her.
“And here’s the distinguished special ops lieutenant turned district attorney for Middlesex County turned candidate for governor. What’s the matter? Nothing to say to an old friend turned foe?” Madeline quipped.
“Remind me to take you out of my will. And for the record, I’m still doing the DA gig. I’m multi-tasking so that I can be your foe.”
Dr. Barrett turned his stern schoolmaster act on Peter and said, “No more politics. What are we going to do with all this media attention? What are you going to do with it?”
Peter looked surprised and turned to Madeline.
“I think he’s nervous,” she explained. That got her another glare from Dr. Barrett. “If you want me to, I will step aside for the evening’s ceremony. You can make an excuse. Peter can handle it without me. The evening might go smoother.” Madeline was sincere in her offer and waited for Dr. Barrett’s response. She saw him soften, and he came over and patted her on the back.
“No, it’s too late for that. I have to trust you two to handle this. You’re much better at it than I am. You’re both much more cool under pressure.”
“Remind me not to have you operate on my spleen any time soon,” Peter said.
“You know what I mean. All these people. This reminds me of the first time I ran this award benefit.” He paused and looked them over. Adjusting his glasses for the zillionth time, he seemed to give up. “I’ve got to go walk off these nerves before someone has to operate on my spleen.” Holding his side, he hurried from the room.
Madeline sighed. “Don’t worry, he’ll be okay when it’s all over.”
“I know. I bet you’re relieved that he didn’t take you up on your offer to back out. I’d hate to have to come up with a spin to explain that one,” Peter said. They’d both been scheduled to present the awards for over a year. Dr. Barrett knew them from their old days when they were together.
“You know if he could have, he would have made you back out, not me.” She knew Peter knew she was right. Then she sat back to allow the makeup and hair man to finish his work. The ad man hovered. They both had ad men filming this. They would use clips for TV ads later in the campaign. She hoped it would be worth all the extra makeup.
Dr. Barrett’s voice intruded on their discussion as he stood in the doorway. “Promise me you will be polite and not discuss politics out there.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be very cordial for the entire the evening. We won’t discuss politics at all, right?” She looked at Peter to agree.
“Okay. I’ll do my part.” Peter seemed less enthusiastic about his promise than she expected. He turned to the doctor. “I’m sorry, Doc. It’s been a trying day. I just found out this very morning that Ms. Grace decided not only that she would not join my campaign, but that she’s going to run against me in a three-way race.” He turned to face her. “Apparently in an attempt to foil my chances to win. And I thought she had more ‘grace’ than that.”
“What?” She couldn’t help practically sputtering the word at his insult. She lifted herself from her chair, throwing off the bib. Dr. Barrett looked alarmed. Peter grinned. Madeline walked off. She shouldn’t have bothered calling him to give him a courtesy heads-up. She didn’t care how many people thought she was a foil, but Peter John Douglas ought to know better. How could he possibly accuse her of being spiteful? Of course she knew the answer; he’d just been baiting her. And she had jumped. As usual.
Peter looked after her as he got up slowly from his chair. He looked at his friend and shrugged.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dr. Barrett said.
“That’s the million dollar question, Doc.”
Another man stretched his head into the room and shouted, “It’s show time!” And disappeared.
They walked from the room around the corner toward where the audience was assembled for the gala event. Almost all the physicians of any note in Boston, and half the most renowned doctors from around the world were here. There were a number of speakers slated. Peter and Madeline had been scheduled as representatives from the political and scientific communities. His friend knew they were used to the media blitzing and knew how to be perfectly well behaved once they were on. Peter didn’t want to have to behave backstage too. He’d had to make at least one dig. He was human after all.
They reached the stage entrance. Madeline stood there, cool and erect, waiting for them. She smiled her kindest smile at Dr. Barrett.
The doctor looked from her to Peter and said, “There are no less than seventeen television news crews out there, guys. I don’t know where they’ve come from. There can’t be that many stations in this state. You’ve got your work cut out for you to keep this event on topic.”
Peter finally spoke. “Don’t worry, Paul. We don’t intend to take over the show, in spite of the fact that my campaign manager is salivating at the opportunity. I intend to disappoint him.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Dr. Barrett smiled.
“Yes. Never fear. Peter is the expert at finessing without taking any discernible position.” Madeline smiled. Dr. Barrett glared. That quelled her.
Their cue, a thunderous applause, met them as they walked out on stage together.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered maintaining her camera face.
“Cheer up. Only half the applause is for me,” Peter quipped.
They gave a joint speech, perfectly complementary to each other, that stuck to the script and the issue of human rights and the physicians’ fine accomplishments in that area.
Walking off stage, Madeline said, “That was intense.”
“I rather enjoyed it. I forgot how much fun you can be when you allow yourself to have a sense of humor.” Peter gave her a sideways glance.
She looked at him and decided she’d risen to his bait enough for one day. Putting the required mental distance between them, she responded, “You always were the master of the backhanded compliment.”
“That’s exactly why you wanted to marry me.” He stopped and looked at her. He didn’t know why he said that. A rare unguarded moment. He’d better make sure those moments became more rare. They were alone backstage. Another rarity. He watched her look around to see for herself that no one was paying attention. Their staffs were handling the press. He had more people than she did, but they were all busy.
“Look at me,” he said. She looked. He stared at her intensely.
Then she spoke. “You really have to get over this obsession with our past. You don’t want to make it a campaign issue, do you?” she asked.
“No. Maybe. But you still seem to be carrying a chip the size of Chicago. Maybe that’s why you’re still in this election,” Peter said, testing her.
“Is that what Rick is theorizing? Tell him I was devastated by his insinuation.” She didn’t even look mildly annoyed. He laughed his whole-hearted laugh, the way he always did with her, and that got them some attention again. He should have known she wasn’t going to be easy to rattle a second time. That was what made the prospect so inviting, he supposed. That, and his determination to talk her out of this race for both their sakes.
Madeline walked toward Sarah. Sarah was busy holding her own with the constant stream of identical questions asked from mo
re angles than you could count on the Hope diamond. With the slightest of nods, Madeline indicated it was time to wrap it up and head out. Tonight Madeline was not in the mood for their usual campaign debriefing back at the hotel room. She felt unusually bothered. Something nagged at the back of her mind, and she wasn’t at all sure it had anything to do with the campaign. Maybe she could persuade Sarah to forego tonight’s session; after all, tonight’s activities weren’t about the race for governor.
“They did a good job at keeping reporters away from us backstage,” Madeline told Sarah as they walked out to the VIP parking lot.
“Is that a good thing or bad thing?” Sarah questioned. Her campaign manager clearly considered it bad. Madeline laughed.
“No, it’s okay. We got enough publicity without trying to campaign. Poor Dr. Barrett put up with a lot tonight as it was.” She paused when Sarah looked doubtful. They got in the car. Sarah always drove.
“You know, Sarah, sometimes it’s good to go about your business without campaigning and worrying about whether people are watching. Then they can judge you by your actions and not just by your words.”
“Spoken like a true non-politician,” Sarah said without looking at her as she buckled her seat belt. “Speaking of politics, I hired a press secretary today. He starts July fifth.”
“Great. Perfect timing. He’ll have his work cut out for him drumming up some more fireworks after all the sparks have died down from the announcement today.” Mad was pleased and hoping he was as good as he was billed. They’d need him.
“We’ll have our work cut out for us to keep the sparks alive that long. But there is that big soiree the mayor is throwing,” Sarah said.
“Yes, the mayor’s big Fourth of July Gala. Hard to tell what to make of it. Is it a political event or is it a private party?” Her question was genuine.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 4
