Courtship

by Carsen Taite

  She knocked at the door and waited. First Lady Veronica Garrett answered the door and sighed when she saw Julia.

  “Seriously? He just agreed to turn the TV off. He could use a good night’s sleep.

  “Sorry, it can’t wait.”

  The First Lady pointed at the folder under her arm. “Are those the poll results?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. It can wait.” She started to shut the door, but Julia stuck her hand in the opening and forced it open. This late in the campaign, any pretense at deference was a waste of time. Someone had to be the bad guy, and more often than not, that someone was her.

  The Garretts were exhausted, worn-out, and Veronica Garrett, who’d always reluctantly assumed the role of political wife, was ready for the constant campaigning to stop. She had enough of a microscope on her life during their first term in office, but elections had a way of raising the bar on invasion of privacy. Julia got it. She really did. For a brief moment, she considered walking away, but she had a job to do, and since that was all she had, she was going to do it right. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it can’t wait.”

  Veronica swung the door wide, and as Julia entered, she left, trailed by a duo of Secret Service agents. She was pissed, but she’d be back. Once Julia delivered the news, especially about the new drop in the polls, her husband would need her by his side more than ever. Must be nice to have someone be there for you. No matter what.

  Chapter Two

  The morning of the day before the funeral, Addison rolled over and was surprised to find Eva still in her bed. Eva met her curious look and said, “I figured this would be a hard day for you.”

  Not wanting to scare her away, Addison nodded a silent thanks. “Coffee?”

  “Sure, I’ll even get it.”

  Before Addison could protest, Eva stood and walked across the room to the chair where she’d left her silk robe the night before. Addison watched as she drew the shimmering fabric over her well-toned shoulders. Addison wished she was back in bed, naked. She started to say so, but Eva called out from the next room.

  “Looks like we both have a really busy day ahead. I promised the moot court team I’d listen to a run-through of their arguments this morning. Maybe one day before the competition, you can join me. Bryan Campbell thinks he’s God’s gift to advocacy, and you’re just the person to take him down a peg or two. He needs a good kick in the teeth before competition or he’s going to blow it for everyone else. And Megan, don’t even get me started about the way she flips her hair, like the judges are going to fall for…”

  Addison tuned out the rest, her desire for sex fading as Eva’s rambling conversation reminded her that despite her personal loss, life went on. She reached over the nightstand and picked up her journal. When Justice Weir’s son Larry had called with the details about the funeral, she’d written down every detail, committed it to memory, but seeing the words in her own handwriting made it real.

  Today she would meet a cadre of Justice Weir’s former law clerks, an elite group of which she was proud to be a member. They would have lunch with Larry Weir and discuss the roles outlined for them at the funeral to take place at Saint Matthew’s church the next day. She’d cleared her calendar and would be present for all the events. It was her duty as a former clerk, as the dean of one of the top law schools in the country, and as a woman who’d lost her most treasured mentor. She only wished she didn’t have to go alone.

  When Eva reappeared with a steaming cup of coffee, she didn’t wait for a break in conversation, instead blurting out, “Come with me. Tomorrow. To the funeral, I mean. I’d like it if you would.”

  Eva’s cheery smile faded quickly, and Addison watched as she struggled for an excuse. She could almost choose the words herself. Too public. Too intimate. It was a state funeral. Tons of dignitaries would be there, not to mention the press. The event was invitation only. Partners of those in mourning were welcome, but Eva wouldn’t want to be labeled as such, certainly not for the world to see. Addison wished she’d never brought it up.

  “Never mind.” She stood up, no longer wanting to feel the vulnerability of being in bed, the one place where she usually gave in to her needs. She slipped on her robe. “I have to leave soon. You should go.”

  “Addison, wait—”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I appreciate you being here last night, this morning. But this is something I need to do on my own.” She softened her tone and added the smile that Eva expected, the one that would let her know she was off the hook. “Thank you. Really. I’m going to get in the shower. Go give Bryan Campbell hell.”

  An hour later, showered and dressed in her most somber black suit, Addison took a cab to the Supreme Court building. The ride gave her time to think, and she wondered who among Weir’s chosen would show up for this event.

  Event. An odd word for a final good-bye. Weir would have hated all the pomp and circumstance. During his tenure on the court, he’d had little patience for the formal trappings of the job. He’d been a workhorse, and his clerks spent their year at the court on call twenty-four seven and loving every minute of it.

  At twenty-five, she’d been well prepared for whatever the high court clerkship had to offer. The Ninth Circuit judge she’d clerked for just out of law school had initiated her to long hours, and even at the lower court, judicial eccentricities were considered the norm. Weir had plenty, which many of his clerks made fun of when they retired to their private dining room for a rare moment of relaxation. He started every day with a hard-boiled egg, which he peeled himself, leaving remnants of eggshells all over his desk. He would salt the egg liberally while he solicited opinions about the drafts of opinions circulating around the court. Later in the day, he would commandeer a clerk to walk with him through the halls of the building for what he called his afternoon constitutional.

  Many clerks, past and present, had joked about the ritualistic habits, but Addison knew Weir valued routine as a way to tune out the things that shouldn’t matter, like the politics within and without the high court. During the walks she shared with him, she learned lessons she carried with her to this day, lessons about temperament, compassion, and balance. Harrison Weir had been an amazing mentor, and he had continued to be an important figure in her life throughout her professional career, long after the year she spent at the court. He’d told the board of trustees of Jefferson University they’d be fools not to hire her as dean. She imagined she’d been hired as much because of the advice of their most famous alumni as for her own reputation as an accomplished appellate attorney.

  When the cab pulled up to the corner of Independence and First Street, Addison spotted the Supreme Court building and told the driver to let her out there. As she stepped from the cab, she shivered. She had argued many cases here since her remarkable year as a clerk, but the weight of the work that emanated from this building never failed to leave her awestruck. Brown v. Board of Education, Roe v. Wade, Citizens United. Landmark decisions that affected every American were made here, by nine justices. History. And she’d been a part of it.

  “Addison! Great to see you.”

  The tall, lanky man walking toward her held out his arms and pulled her into a hug. Jeff Burrows, another former clerk, now a United States senator. She hugged him back and blinked back tears. They’d grown close during the year they worked together despite their distinct ideological differences. “It’s great to see you too.”

  When they stepped apart, she took a minute to appraise her old friend. She hadn’t seen him in years. All the promises they’d made after their year in service together had fallen by the wayside after they’d scattered to various parts of the country, wielding their time at the court into high profile jobs at various firms and agencies. They’d kept up via the occasional e-mail, but more often than not, the communications were quick announcements of address changes, promotions, and transfers rather than the close confidences they’d shared when they’d spent a year in servitude. She knew Jeff wa
s the senior United States senator from Montana, that he was married and had two children. But she didn’t know much else about her old friend. She fumbled for small talk. “Did you come by yourself or is Helen with you?”

  “Just me today. Helen’s in town with the kids, but she won’t join us until tomorrow morning. She figured all of us would want today to catch up with each other. And you? You bring anyone special along?”

  He danced around the subject like he had the first time they’d had the discussion. He knew she was a lesbian, as did everyone in her close circle of friends. A circle that was pretty damn small. But, like most people, when she never showed up at events with a woman in tow, they wondered if she’d changed her mind. She set him straight to keep him from speculating. “No special woman in my life at the moment.”

  Mostly true. Eva was special, but her status as a part-time lover didn’t really constitute a mention, especially since she wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship. Addison could almost hear Judge Weir scolding her for being too damn literal, and she smiled at the memory. Before Jeff could ask any more questions, she took his arm. “Let’s go in. I want to see who else is here.”

  The Supreme Court dining hall was lined with clerks. During his twenty-year tenure, Justice Weir had amassed a large group of alumnae. Because each clerk only served a year with the justice, they didn’t all know each other, but the fellowship was small enough and prestigious enough that they all knew of each other, and Addison recognized many familiar faces. She scoured the room for Sasha Easton, the final member of the trio that had served with her and Jeff.

  “Sasha couldn’t make it,” Jeff said. “She called me last night. Her daughter went into labor yesterday, and she had to fly to Seattle. Can you believe Sasha’s going to be a grandmother?”

  “Not even.” Sasha had been older than most clerks and the only one of them who’d had children at the time of clerkship. Addison had been amazed at Sasha’s ability, as a single mother, to handle the heavy load of the clerkship. She’d left the court and garnered a position with a prestigious Wall Street law firm. Addison wondered if she was still there, wondered if she’d ever married. She wished she’d kept in touch, especially now that the person who had been their common link was gone.

  “Do you see Larry?” she asked Jeff.

  “Over there. Looks like he’s been cornered by the terrible twosome.” Jeff referred to a pair of clerks who’d served a couple of years after they had. Jake Jeffries and Evan Spence. She’d met them at the judge’s seventieth birthday party and had never understood why the gentle-tempered justice had ever chosen these smug know-it-alls as clerks.

  “Let’s save him.” Addison strode across the room with Jeff on her heels. Larry looked up as she approached, obviously relieved.

  “Addison, how good to see you. Dad would be so happy that you came.” He trailed off, and Addison figured the silence meant he realized his father’s happiness would never be a tangible thing again. With a pointed look at Jake and Evan, Larry motioned to the door. “Excuse me, everyone, but I need to speak to Addison privately. We’ll be back in just a moment.”

  Addison followed him out the door to an alcove. She started to ask him if everything was okay, but quickly realized the stupidity of the question. Larry was an only son and his mother had died several years ago. In the wake of his father’s death, Larry’s world had likely been thrown into disarray.

  “I wanted to talk to you. First. Before the others. About the funeral.”

  “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

  “You realize Dad considered you part of his family, don’t you?”

  Addison felt the tears gather in the corner of her eyes once again. If she wasn’t able to keep her emotions in check, it was going to be a very long two days. “He meant the world to me. I’m so sorry I haven’t seen him more in the last few years. I guess I always thought there would be time…”

  “Don’t even go there. He was proud of you, and he, of all people, would have wanted you to be happy with your work. We all thought he would live forever.”

  She nodded. Words weren’t enough to express her sorrow.

  “He left notes about his funeral. He wanted his favored clerks to be pallbearers. I have a list, and you’re at the top of it. I’d also like you to say a few words at the service if you feel up to it.”

  “Of course.”

  “They’ll have a reserved section at the church for the clerks. Let’s go back in and I’ll announce the pallbearers and then the court administrator will go over the arrangements for this afternoon.” He started to walk back toward the dining hall, but stopped when Addison touched his arm.

  “Larry, I was serious. Anything you need.”

  “Dad loved that about you. You challenged his ideas, but you never debated his work ethic. He always said he’d never had a more hard-working, more devoted clerk. Thank you, Addison, for everything you were to him.”

  Addison squeezed his hand and then watched as he headed back to the dining room. Several deep breaths later, she felt composed enough to join him and ready to face whatever the next two days might bring.

  *

  “Brad, we’ll be at the ellipse in five minutes. While we’re gone, I need you to…” Julia drilled through a mile-long to-do list as she jogged down the hall in the West Wing with Brad running along behind her. Both sides had suspended campaigning after the news of Justice Weir’s death, but behind the scenes, the election machinery chugged on. They’d arrived back in D.C. the night before last. While the Garretts visited the Supreme Court building to pay their respects to Justice Weir as he lay in state, she’d never stopped working. Today, Wesley had insisted that she attend the funeral with them, and she was already cursing the loss of valuable time. If she was going to go, she was determined to be there on time, since nothing would begin until the president arrived.

  When she reached the Oval Office, she nodded at the president’s secretary, Sue Marks, and knocked on the door. “Sir, the car is waiting.”

  Veronica Garrett opened the door, and Julia sucked in a breath. She was Jackie Kennedy reincarnated. No woman had any business looking drop-dead gorgeous in funeral black. If she were smiling, she’d be too gorgeous for words. Her somber expression was probably more about her disgust with politics than sorrow for Justice Weir’s passing. Although he was a liberal, President Garrett had spent the second half of his term moving as close to the middle as he could without completely alienating his base, which included distancing himself from some of the justice’s leftist leanings. If he and his wife weren’t a public couple, they’d probably be enjoying a morning of reading the paper over eggs and coffee instead of attending this funeral.

  Well, before long, leisurely mornings out of the public eye might be open to them once again. The polls had them trailing Governor Delbert Briscoe by a deadly seven points across the board. While a former president was never completely out of the public eye, Wesley Garrett was about to be relegated to back page news.

  Julia shook her head. She couldn’t think about that right now. Her job was to get him elected. That job didn’t stop until all the votes were counted, and there were two weeks to go. She wasn’t being negative; she was only being realistic. Right now, she’d take things one step at a time. Today, a funeral. Day after tomorrow, a four-state whirlwind of events. She’d keep pushing until it was over. And then she’d take a month off. Go to Tahiti and lay on the beach. Until it was time to find another candidate and begin again. This was her life and she’d learned to love it.

  “Julia, you should ride with us.”

  She nodded and joined the Secret Service detail that escorted the Garretts out of the West Wing. She planned on riding with several of her staffers so they could review the week’s schedule, but the president’s statement wasn’t a suggestion. As they pulled out of the gates, throngs of people lined the streets. Some appeared somber, as if to express mourning, and some held placards. Protect Our Right to Bear Arms. Life is Sacred. A
nd so on. The crazies were already out, and they’d keep up their vigil of protest until the Senate confirmed a new Supreme Court justice.

  Once they passed the crowd, President Garrett leaned back in the seat and unbuttoned his jacket. The first lady made a show of playing with the hem of her dress, while Julia wondered why she’d been asked to ride with them. Finally, the president spoke.

  “I know what the polls say, but I want to know what you think. You’ve always been straight with me. We’re two weeks out. Can we win?”

  He was right. She’d run his campaign twice in the House and once before for the office he held now, and she’d always told him the truth, even if it was painful. It was a policy she had with all the candidates she worked with. The key was when to deliver bad news. Sometimes elections really were too close to call until hours after the polls had closed, but most of the time the outcome was clear weeks in advance, even if the candidate and his inner circle didn’t want to face the truth.

  But this time was different. After a rough four years as an incumbent, President Garrett had to pivot away from some of his own policies to try to win back the base that had lost faith in him. He walked a fine line between consistent and unfocused. The up and down they’d experienced in the polls was evidence their audience wasn’t certain about the message. If the election were a few months away, the problem might be fixable, but at two weeks out, there was no cure. As Julia fished for a way to balance the hard truth against the fact that candidates usually wanted a pep talk about how they could pull out a victory, true or not. Truth, in this case, wasn’t very motivating.