by Webb Hubbell
Carol had seated her guests carefully. I listened as a senior member of the Senate Appropriations committee quietly debated with an executive of a defense contactor about the need for more fighter aircraft rather than drones. Carol had given them the opportunity to discuss their opinions out of the limelight. Nothing confidential or inappropriate was discussed as far as I knew. The Senator and the executive could talk without the intrusion of media or staff and Carol was able to add their opinions and desires to her store of knowledge.
DC hasn’t worked very well for quite a long time, but this is how it worked when it did—leaders with differing interests seeking compromise away from the vitriol of partisan ideology and the glare of the media, in a comfortable setting of relative privacy. Of course, this process is open to only a few and flies in the face of open government, but surely it’s better than the take no prisoners attitude that seems to worsen every year.
After dessert, Carol announced she had a movie, only recently released, waiting in the living room. She suggested we all get an after dinner drink and find a comfortable chair or couch. She shepherded me to a large recliner, and as soon as I sat down with my glass of port she curled up at my side. Soon, the lights went out and the movie began.
Pat silently kept watch, making sure glasses were never empty. I thought I detected a glower when he refilled my glass, but really didn’t care.
Several couples peeled off to their rooms before the movie was over. Muttering thanks, the remaining guests departed as the credits began to roll. Carol took me by the hand and escorted me to a bedroom at the end of a long hall, obviously her own. She turned so we were face-to-face and pulled me to her. We enjoyed a deep and lingering kiss, but she pulled away, flushing slightly.
“I can’t tell you how much I’d rather be with you right now, but I can’t. I have go to my office and file reports. Please, forgive me. It won’t always be like this, but I need to get tonight’s observations and insights recorded while they’re fresh in my mind. Promise me you aren’t upset?”
“Well, I’ll get over it, but give me a few minutes.” I drew her into the room, and we sat carefully on the side of the bed.
“Why have me stay in your room?”
“My other guests all think we’re in bed together at this very moment. Not a soul thinks I’m headed to my office to file reports. They all know what business I’m in, and they expect, even want me to report to my clients what I learned tonight, but they also expect me to be discreet. It would take away from the climate I’m trying to create and the appearance of a social gathering if I were obvious.
“My guests don’t mind what I do, but I don’t throw it in their face. I never reveal a confidence, and their companions never have a clue, at least not from me. It may sound overblown, but this weekend is important to a functioning government. For example, the Senator has been trying for months to meet in private with Chuck Morrison.
“I’m in the information business, but I’m also in the facilitation business. I facilitate meetings that can’t be arranged through normal channels. I also report on such meetings to those who need to know, all with the consent of the participants. It has taken months to put this specific weekend together. The Senator and Chuck trust me, or it wouldn’t have happened.
“Part of all this weekend is an elaborate ruse so those two can have very private conversations, but part of it’s not. For example, I think our Senator’s staffer is learning at this very moment that for a man of his age the Senator has amazing stamina.”
Carol gave me a soft kiss before she continued.
“I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m using you. I invited you on a whim because I find you interesting and attractive, but I admit that having you here helps further a sense of normalcy, just an ordinary weekend on the Shore. I’ll probably have to work for most of the night, but I can’t tell you how much I’d rather climb into this bed with you.”
Again she wrapped her arms around my waist and murmured. “We can make this work. I know we can.”
I took her face in my hand and gently kissed her cheek.
“Well, my ego has taken a hit, but go do what you have to do. I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
SUNDAY
* * *
April 17, 2016
8
“I’M NOT GOING anywhere” wasn’t exactly true. She already knew I needed to leave late tomorrow afternoon.
I got ready for bed and was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow. I hoped my dreams would be filled with Carol, but for some reason they were filled with me playing baseball at Yankee stadium, naked as a jaybird. I was disappointed when I woke in the middle of the night and realized she wasn’t there. I threw down a couple of Tylenol with a full glass of water, hoping to sleep until morning.
*****
“Wake up, sleepyhead, lets go for a swim.”
Carol stood next to the bed, wearing a bathing suit and a filmy cover-up. Light was pouring into the room from the porch doors leading to the pool outside her bedroom. I could have sworn I closed those curtains before I went to bed.
“C’mon. I’ll meet you outside. Bloody Mary or Mimosa?”
I squinted in the sun. “You’re up early.”
“Never went to bed, no time. I’ll catch up on my sleep when everyone leaves. Meet you at the pool in ten.”
“Mimosa.”
“That’s my man. It’s time we got the party started.”
I headed to the bathroom and glanced at the alarm clock—seven-thirty. The party was certainly starting early.
I walked out to the pool in trunks and an old Stafford State t-shirt, still yawning a bit. Clearly no one else was quite ready to party. Stretched out on a recliner, Carol peered up at me from beneath a broad brimmed straw hat, Bloody Mary in hand. My Mimosa sat on the table beside her.
“Are we the only ones up?” I asked.
“Probably, unless the Senator and his companion are having an eye-opener.”
Good grief, the man was at least seventy.
I took a sip of the Mimosa. “Um, nice, but a little early. Think I’ll swim a few laps and let the water shrink my head from yesterday’s festivities.”
“Good idea, it’s going to be a long day.” I wondered why she was in such a good mood and how she could be so, well, awake. As far as I knew, she hadn’t slept a wink.
The April water was cold, but it felt good. I stretched out my body in a long freestyle stroke and began swimming laps. Up and down, up and down, until I was totally awake, and my body had begun to complain.
As I leaned against the wall in the shallow end of the pool to catch my breath, Carol dove into the pool with barely a ripple. When she surfaced she threw her arms around my neck, jumped up slightly and wrapped her legs around my waist.
Her mouth joined mine and while her tongue probed, her hips began to rise and fall slowly. Needless to say I responded with enthusiasm. I didn’t know how we were going to make this work in the pool, but I was confident we’d find a way.
I was pulling down the straps of her bathing suit when we both heard.
“Excuse me, madam, but I believe you will want to take this call.”
Carol’s arms were still around my neck, but her legs fell to the pool floor in a hurry.
“Really. Right now? Mattie, your timing is atrocious.”
I turned to see a woman in a maid’s uniform, looking very uncomfortable. At least she wasn’t Pat.
“I’m really sorry, Ms. Madison.”
The moment was gone. Carol climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in the towel offered by the blushing Mattie, grabbed the cover-up and stalked off toward the kitchen, followed by the embarrassed maid.
I sank into a cushy chaise lounge and sipped my Mimosa, wondering when Carol might return. I realized our fun was over when the Senator from Tennessee and his companion walked out to the pool, Bloody Mary’s in hand.
What was his companion’s name? Then it came to me—Claudia.
&
nbsp; “My God, what happened to you?” Claudia exclaimed.
I realized my shirt was still off; the old scars were hard to miss. I tried to sound nonchalant as I tugged my shirt back on. “A bad night.”
“Can’t you get that fixed?” she asked.
I was tempted to give her the answer she deserved, but was ready to change the subject.
“I could, but I usually just keep my shirt on. Y’all sleep well?”
Claudia turned bright red, but the Senator rescued her. “Like babies.”
He continued, “Carol says you specialize in antitrust law. I don’t recall seeing you or any of your clients, for that matter, before my committee.”
“I work hard to be sure you don’t.” I smiled, and he laughed. He started to tell me the sad story about some lawyer who had come before his committee unprepared. It was a long story. Quickly bored, Claudia left to refill our drinks.
He watched her backside as she left, then rumbled, “Carol says you can be discreet. I wouldn’t want anything that’s said or done this weekend to make its way into the papers or be the subject of rumor. Chuck and I need to meet in private from time to time.”
A senior member of the Senate Appropriations Committee meeting in private with an executive of an aerospace company was not something either one of them would want to see on the front page of the Post. Carol had probably been very selective in inviting her guests to this casual weekend.
“Senator,” I gave him a slow grin, “I have a terrible memory for faces, names, or even what happened yesterday. No one, especially you, Senator, has any reason for concern. Carol Madison is the only subject of my interest this weekend. Anything else is none of my business.”
“Good man—speaking of Carol, if I were a younger man….” His returning grin was a bit wolfish. Old goat.
Claudia returned, followed by Pat, drink tray in hand. Carol’s other guests emerged slowly from within, some ready for a brisk swim, but most content to lounge about, sipping whatever they liked. Mattie brought out a large basket of tiny cinnamon rolls and mini quiches, designed to tide us over before brunch.
They were all chatting happily around the pool—except me. Carol was nowhere to be seen, and I felt like a fish out of water. So after a few hearty “good mornings” I retreated to shower, shave, and change into khakis and a golf shirt.
I gave it about twenty minutes before returning, but still no Carol. With no other option, I asked for another Mimosa and joined the rest of the group. The conversation was centered on—what else but Billy Hopper? Needless to say the group was confident it was only a matter of days before Billy pled guilty and was sent away to prison for life. The women were much tougher on Billy than the men, several suggesting the U.S. Attorney should have sought the death penalty, even though in DC it would be impossible to obtain.
Carol finally joined the group, but she clearly wasn’t herself. She played the perfect hostess, greeting everyone with kisses on cheeks and cheery comments. I wondered it I was the only one to see her performance as pantomime.
She came to me at last and spoke softly, “Mattie was right to interrupt. I needed to take the call.”
“You okay? You seem out of sorts?’
“No, no. Lack of sleep caught up with me, and I took a little nap.”
The lie was obvious. The phone call had clearly shaken her. I figured she would tell me about it when she was ready, but I was worried for her and couldn’t let it go.
Carol seemed to bounce back quickly—played tennis, waved a couple off on a boat ride with Pat, even helped one guy try to catch crabs off the deck. But she had hardly a word for me. Left to my own devices I tried to play my escort role, even spelling Pat as the bartender—it gave me something to do. From time-to-time, I thought I saw her glance my way, yet she kept her distance. The hands on my watch moved at a snail’s pace. I couldn’t wait to leave.
I learned one thing during the afternoon’s activities. The Senator’s assistant wasn’t as naïve as she let on. When she thought she was out of sight she tossed her drink onto some unfortunate plant and then called out for another. She also found unobtrusive ways to listen in to conversations while maintaining her role as the perfect staffer. The Senator was clearly smitten, and she had him eating out of her hand.
Yet, I also felt sorry for Claudia. Here she was, sleeping with a man twenty years older than her father and pretending to be a ditz. To what end? Proximity to power, especially in DC, causes strange behavior.
Claudia approached me before dinner and asked, “Lover’s quarrel?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Honey, last night Carol couldn’t keep her hands off of you. I was surprised she made it through the movie before y’all got it on, but today she’s acting like you’re the hired help. It’s none of my business of course, but just in case.” She handed me a napkin with a phone number on it and turned away with an arch smile.
What was that about? But I kept the napkin.
As the sun was setting, Mattie called us all to the porch for dinner. The tables had been pushed together and covered in newspapers. She poured out dozens of steamed Maryland blue crabs out onto the middle, followed by fresh corn and biscuits. We all hammered away, picking out lumps and bits of crab to our heart’s content. Carol continued to ignore me, so I concentrated my attention on Claudia, who was intently following the conversation between Chuck Morrison and the Senator. Her tongue worked in a funny way as she tried to figure out how to deal with her crab. Pat kept filling her glass, and she continued to dispose of its contents without drawing attention.
Before too long the sun faded and folks began to fidget. Out of the blue, assorted limousines and town cars pulled up the long driveway to whisk Carol’s guests back to DC or to the copter pad. I’d had about enough of the cold shoulder, so I asked Pat if he was ready to take me home.
“I’ll pull the car round front.” Nothing overt in his tone, but no sorrow at my departure either.
I found Carol shaking hands with the Senator and waving to Claudia as they left in a limo.
“Thanks for the weekend. I hope it was successful.” I didn’t bother to hide my irritation.
She reached up to my shoulder, but dropped her arm just as quickly. “It could have been better. You have every right to be pissed. I’m so sorry.”
Not even a kiss on the cheek this time—but what did I expect. This was over.
“Whatever—I hope your problems work out.” I stepped into the back of the town car Pat had pulled up. She stepped up to the half-open door.
“You’re the problem, Jack, a big damn problem, but I’ll work it out.”
9
I WAS THE problem? What the hell! Maybe someone didn’t think much of my presence—I wasn’t part of the circle, obviously a last minute addition. I fumed in silence for a while, but the more I thought about it, it had to have been the phone call. Whatever—her mood swing had pretty much spoiled the weekend for me.
I lost interest in my little snit before too long and noticed that Pat didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. I caught him glancing at me in the rear view mirror. “Does Carol ever give you time off? It can’t be easy keeping to her schedule.”
“I don’t mind. She’s a very generous person. Mattie and I are compensated very well, and she helped both my wife and Mattie’s husband get good jobs in the government.”
His eyes found mine in the mirror again. “You probably could tell I wasn’t real thrilled that she invited you this weekend.”
I smiled. “I did, but nothing wrong with being protective of your employer. I admire that.”
“She told me I was obvious.”
“Well, maybe just a little.” I kidded.
“I was wrong. She’s had a few other guys out to the Shore, and one way or the other they’ve all tried to take advantage. She’s had some bad experiences with men over the years, so I’m pretty protective. You seem to be on the up and up, and she seems to be truly interested in you. Sorry—I probably shouldn’
t be saying any of this.”
“No, it’s fine—I appreciate your candor. And maybe you can help. She got an unexpected phone call this morning. After that, the whole weekend vibe seemed to change, she practically ignored me. Any idea what happened?”
“Mattie said you two were enjoying a morning dip.” I could see his careful grin. “If I did know who called or what it was about I wouldn’t tell you. But she deals with a lot of big shots who are demanding and unreasonable most of the time. Trust me, whatever the call was about, she’ll handle it. Don’t read too much into one day: this weekend was a really big deal for her business. You were probably becoming too much of a distraction.”
“Thanks. I admit the sudden freeze was pretty hard on my ego.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Ms. Erskine pulled her aside before dinner and suggested she’d be happy to give you a ride home. Mr. Brooks had to leave early, and she had plenty of room. She was hardly out of earshot when Ms. Madison told me to be sure that didn’t happen.”
I didn’t want to think about Ms. Erskine.
The traffic thickened as we approached DC, and our conversation faltered. I leaned back to relax and enjoy the view. The city really sparkles just after sunset. The sky becomes a dark marbled haze to the west and the monuments light up with a pink glow. It was slow going on the beltway, but Pat was a master at avoiding the “crazies from Maryland,” and I was soon home.
I’d left my phone at home, a bad habit I constantly tried to correct. No messages from either Marshall or Beth. I checked my personal email, but again nothing but the usual commercial solicitations. Work email could wait. Maggie had left a message on my landline chiding me for not answering my cell and informing me that she and Walter would be back in town Wednesday. Would I like to have dinner with them on Thursday night?
My life story—dinner for three.
