Courtship

by Carsen Taite

  They placed their orders and then snagged a table near the back of the room. Julia was more beautiful in person than on TV. The tired, haggard look she’d sported when Addison first met her had been replaced by a fresh smile and bright eyes.

  “You seem to be in an awfully good mood. Guess that’s because your work is essentially over.”

  At Julia’s raised eyebrows, Addison admitted, “I’ve seen you on the news. Your occupation isn’t exactly a secret.”

  “True. You’d think we could relax, wouldn’t you? But voting on the West Coast isn’t even open yet. So many things could happen today that could change the course of the election, most of them completely out of my control. What if, God forbid, my candidate had a revelation like the one we heard a week ago? Wouldn’t matter for all the early voters, but there’s a whole half of the country that hasn’t voted yet. We have several events scheduled even today. Carefully planned and well scripted. I guess I’m in a good mood because we’re up in the polls for the first time since we started.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. Spend two years running, then after two years in office, start running again.”

  “Well, I don’t do the middle part and that makes it a hell of a lot easier.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “I only work on the election. After today, I’m out of a job. No matter what happens.”

  “Interesting. I thought all you groupies were ideologues, in it for the long haul.”

  “I’m a realist. Every campaign is full of the other folks. They need people like me for the practical aspects. Raising money, planning strategy. We make sure the candidate wins and then bow out to let the rest of the team govern.”

  “Did you even vote for Garrett?”

  “There you go, asking personal questions.”

  “Sorry, that was kind of rude.”

  “No, it’s okay. And I did. Did you think I voted for the perv on the other ticket?”

  Addison laughed. “I voted for Garrett too, lest you think I voted for the perv. But I would’ve voted for him no matter what.”

  “What convinced you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Guess I’m trying to learn what worked. For next time.”

  “Are you starting another campaign right away?”

  “Not a chance. I bought a one-way ticket to Tahiti. I’ll be on a plane by the end of the week.”

  Addison’s heart sank, and she wasn’t sure why. Had she really expected this chance meeting to lead to something more? Silly, really. Julia bounced from place to place, running campaigns. She might not even live in the area, which led Addison to wonder how they’d run into each other this morning. “What brings you to this part of town?”

  “Sentimental reasons, I guess. I have an apartment here, and I have a thing about voting in person. I’m not always able to do it, but obviously since my candidate lives down the street…” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I should head back. Thanks for the coffee. I can’t think of a better way to start this day.”

  “It was great seeing you again.” Addison stopped herself from offering another invitation. Julia was headed to Tahiti, and it was clear her sights were set on boarding a plane. “I hope your guy wins and that you have a splendid trip.” She paused and then plunged in. “If you decide not to go, give me a call. I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “Too bad, I already bought the ticket.” Julia sounded reluctant, but seconds later, she was gone.

  Addison sighed. At least she’d asked.

  *

  Julia stood in front of the map on the wall, a red marker in one hand and a blue one in the other. Only five states were still in play, and the entire room was fixed in front of a bank of televisions, holding their collective breath for the results.

  Her impromptu breakfast with Addison seemed like an eternity ago. When she’d returned to the West Wing, a dozen issues needed her attention, and she’d spent most of the day on the phone with pollsters, giving television interviews, and ciphering electoral math.

  She was focused, but her intensity didn’t change the fact that in the back of her mind, she wondered what Addison was doing. Had she gone back to work? Was she teaching a class? Dealing with faculty issues? Doing whatever law school deans do?

  Despite the craziness of the day, she’d almost placed a call to Addison, told her she could make time for that dinner before she left town. She’d gone as far as looking up the phone number for the law school, but each time she’d started to punch in the numbers, she’d been interrupted with a new problem to solve, another decision to make.

  Just as well. Her desire to call was probably just a symptom of the loneliness she always felt as the manic pace of an election spun up fast and then dwindled down. This time tomorrow, barring a Bush v. Gore fiasco, she’d wake up with absolutely nothing left to do.

  “Turn it up. They’re about to call California.”

  Julia shrugged off her melancholy and turned to the bank of televisions in time to see three more states turn blue. As the rest of the room cheered, she walked to the board and colored in California, Nevada, and Colorado. When she turned around, President Garrett stood right behind her, wearing a huge grin.

  “I owe this all to you.”

  “Me and Governor Briscoe’s poor judgment. You’re the best candidate for the job. I’m just glad the best man’s going to win.”

  “Whatever happened to not calling it until it’s over?”

  She looked back at the map. “I suppose he could still beat you, but he’d have to take two states you’ve had wrapped up from the start. Not going to happen. We’ll wait until they call it to break out the champagne, but it’s over, sir.”

  His expression became serious. “We need to talk.”

  “Now?”

  “No. Day after tomorrow. I think we should all take tomorrow off, don’t you?”

  She didn’t bother reminding him that he didn’t take days off. But she did, and she wasn’t ready to give it up. “My work here is done, and the only suit I’ll be wearing for the foreseeable future is a swimsuit.”

  “I know you deserve a vacation, but if tonight is indeed the miracle it’s shaping up to be, I need one more thing from you. Come by Thursday for lunch.”

  She scanned his face and decided it wasn’t a request. That shouldn’t matter since she worked for him of her own free will, and tomorrow she wouldn’t work for him at all. But something about his tone told her she really didn’t have a choice. Besides, she wasn’t leaving until Friday. Plenty of time to show up at a meeting and get her packing done.

  “Thursday, it is.” She started to ask for more details, but before she could get the words out, the room erupted in cheers and the popping of corks. She looked up at the map board and watched Brad scribble enough blue onto the final two states to show the win. She spun around and watched the celebration as the realization that they’d won sunk in. People hugged, some kissed. Giddy campaign workers slapped each other on the back and toasted everyone in sight.

  As she watched the surreal display of camaraderie, she realized she’d never felt more alone.

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday morning, Addison was in her office with Eva, discussing an issue with the moot court team’s funding, when her secretary buzzed in with the call.

  Eva raised her eyebrows. “Julia Scott? Isn’t that Garrett’s campaign manager? The one you met at the White House?”

  Addison lifted her shoulders. “That’s her. Did I mention I ran into her the morning of the election? At Starbucks of all places. We actually shared a piece of banana bread. Crazy, right?”

  Eva stood. “I should go so you can answer that. Maybe she wants to recruit you to run for public office.”

  “Hardly.” Addison started to tell Eva to wait during the call, but she stopped mid-breath. Whatever Julia wanted probably wouldn’t take very long. Of course, she couldn’t imagine why she was even calling in the first place, but whatever it was, she wanted to hear i
t in private. “I’ll call you later.”

  If Eva minded the brush-off, she didn’t let it show. Addison watched her go, and mixed messages trailed in her wake. They’d been in a weird place ever since Addison had pressed for more. She should’ve cut off ties when she hadn’t gotten the commitment she’d asked for, but…she didn’t really know what the “but” was. She only knew small comforts with Eva were better than nothing.

  Addison picked up the phone. “Congratulations. I thought you’d be on an island by now, sipping something sweet out of one of those curvy glasses with an umbrella sticking out the top.”

  “Friday. I leave Friday.”

  “That’s only two days away. Better start packing.”

  “Oh, I’ve been packed for weeks. So now I need to find something else to occupy my time.”

  Addison waited, not really sure how to read the conversation. She wasn’t sure why Julia was calling in the first place. They’d met twice and talked for a total of twenty minutes, tops. But the quantity of the time they’d spent together wasn’t a factor. She’d felt an instant attraction, strong and stirring. Had Julia felt the same?

  Didn’t matter if she did. Julia was headed out of town, make that out of the country, and when she returned, she’d be working on the next full course run-up to mid-term elections. Her schedule was likely impossible, and she was probably out of town most of the time. The realization cooled her reaction. “I’m sure you’ll find something to do.”

  “Actually, I’ve already thought of something. Join me for dinner?”

  And just like that, her resolve to hold out flew out the window. “I’d love to.”

  Later that evening, in her apartment, Addison stood in front of her closet without a clue about what to wear. The restaurant Julia had chosen was The Capital Grille, typical D.C. see and be seen. But she was only going to see one person, and she wanted to look good for it.

  She settled on a black cocktail dress with a daring, especially for the cold weather, neckline. When she arrived at the restaurant, the maître d’ showed her to a private table in an alcove. Julia stood as she approached. In pants and a flowing blouse instead of the stiffly tailored suits she’d worn during the campaign, Julia looked relaxed and devastatingly beautiful.

  Julia took her hand. “You look fantastic.”

  “So do you. The cameras don’t do you justice.”

  “I think I lost about ten years when we won the election. Happens every time. I’m having scotch. Would you like a cocktail?”

  “Scotch is great.”

  Julia nodded her approval and signaled to the waiter who hovered nearby.

  While they waited for him to return, Julia said, “I like this place. It’s quiet even when it’s packed. Please tell me you’re not a vegetarian.”

  “I love vegetables. With my steak.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Then the waiter appeared with another heavy crystal glass. Addison took a sip of the scotch. As the amber liquid glided across her palate, she tasted toffee, malt, spice, and a hint of smoke on the finish. Warm, smooth, expensive.

  As if reading her mind, Julia said, “Johnny Walker Blue. I’m celebrating.”

  “Ah. And it is your celebration. Must be why you didn’t ask me if I was a vegetarian before you invited me to a steakhouse.”

  Julia had the good sense to look sheepish, but Addison could tell she was used to having her way.

  “Sorry about that. I guess I figured if you didn’t like steak I couldn’t date you, and I wasn’t ready to find out over the phone.”

  “So, this is a date?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know what else to call it. I’m not a big dater, but I occasionally have dinner and other things, with a woman I’m attracted to.”

  Addison made a conscious decision to ignore the reference to “other things” and relish the fact that Julia found her attractive. She took another sip of her very expensive drink and decided to enjoy dinner and deal with anything else, if or when it came up.

  They each ordered steaks and surrendered their menus to the waiter. A few beats of uncomfortable silence followed. Finally, Julia said, “I may not be fit for normal human interaction. I haven’t had a meal in the last year that hasn’t also been a strategy session. The last thing on earth I want to talk about is anything related to the campaign.”

  Addison laughed at Julia’s refreshing honesty. “I’m well versed in human interaction, but it generally consists of dealing with faculty disputes, student grumbling, and an occasional interaction with a meddling board of regents.”

  “Well, we’re a pair.”

  “I’m willing to give it a try, if you are. I’ll start. Where are you from?”

  “Look at you, starting with the softball questions. I’m from New York. My parents live in Rochester, but we’re not close, so I don’t get back there much. You?”

  “I’m a Dallas girl. My father lives in Southlake, just north of Dallas. My mother died a few years ago. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Addison shook her head. After all this time, she still had trouble knowing how to respond to the socially expected niceties uttered by anyone who heard the news she’d lost a parent. But the kindness in Julia’s eyes was deeper than the usual reaction she received. “Thank you. It’s still hard. We were very close.”

  “Siblings?”

  “A brother. He’s deployed. Afghanistan. You?”

  “Sister. She lives in Rochester with the folks. I think she always will.”

  Addison heard a twinge of bitterness and sensed it was time to steer the conversation away from family. “How long have you been a campaign guru?”

  Julia shrugged and took a healthy drink of the wine they’d ordered to go with dinner. “For a while I guess.”

  “It seems like really interesting work. How did you get into it? I mean it’s not like they teach a course in school called how to get a president elected, but you’ve done it twice now. You must be very good at what you do.”

  “I guess everyone has to be good at something. Sometimes you have to find out what you’re really bad at before your true talents are revealed. Besides, considering where we were in the polls before Governor Briscoe imploded, some might say I’m not at all good at what I do.”

  The edgy bitterness was back, and Addison was relieved when the waiter appeared with their meal. She changed the subject, and they spent the next hour in a lively discussion of the best D.C. neighborhoods and their favorite restaurants.

  Addison relaxed into the easy conversation, enjoying a night out, in public, with another woman. This was what she had wanted with Eva. Did she still want it with her or was she really ready to move on? Like Eva, Julia was accomplished, easy to talk to, and every bit as beautiful. As public a figure as she was, Julia didn’t seem to give a rip about what anyone around them thought. Several times during dinner, Julia held out a fork for her to taste her food, grasped her hand to emphasize a point, and leaned in close to whisper a particularly politically incorrect story in her ear—all signs of intimacy other diners would have noticed.

  By the time dessert was served, Addison decided it was safe to return to an earlier topic. She couldn’t resist some discussion of the election. “I was so relieved Garrett was elected. If Briscoe were president, I’m sure we’d have another Burger or Rehnquist.”

  “There are plenty of safe, easily confirmable candidates he can choose.”

  “Really?” Addison tried not to telegraph how put out she was at the words “safe” and “easily confirmable,” but she viewed both of those terms as buzzwords for conservative. “Like who?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Gilbert or Montoya from the D.C. Circuit. They’re both respected and balanced.”

  “Weir was a liberal powerhouse. You really think his legacy will be fulfilled by putting a justice on the bench who will go along to get along? Because that’s what you’ll get from either of those two.”

  “Hold on. I didn’t say he would nominate
either of those two. I’m only speculating, but if I were advising him on the heels of an election that could easily have gone the other way, I’d warn him away from a confirmation battle this early into his term.”

  “That’s pretty chickenshit.”

  “That’s politics. You have to make tough choices at this level.”

  Addison recognized the stubborn tone. She’d flashed it herself plenty of times, but she couldn’t help but feel Julia had no right to push the point, and she didn’t appreciate the condescending reference to tough choices. Of course, Julia thought about things in terms of how they could be spun, not how they really were. There was no arguing with someone whose ideas were swayed by the wind of public opinion. This evening had been enjoyable only because they hadn’t talked about anything of substance. Favorite restaurants, best neighborhoods? Who cared if they liked the same food? She needed something more. She and Eva may argue, but she knew their debate came from strongly rooted beliefs, not poll results.

  She pushed her plate of dessert aside. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

  Julia looked contrite. “You’re upset with me.”

  Addison laughed. “Do you really think I’m that vapid? That I would be upset with you for having a difference of opinion?”

  “You’re something.”

  She was something, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say it out loud since it was likely to ruin the entire evening, and it had been going so well up to now. But hell, it wasn’t like it was going anywhere anyway. Julia was packed and ready to leave the country. Her politics were the least of the issues standing between them.

  “Dinner was great, but I should go. I have an early morning tomorrow.” She reached for her purse, but Julia stilled her hand.

  “My invitation. My treat.” She held on. “I wish you wouldn’t go.”

  “I think it’s best.”

  “If you’re not mad at me, then what’s going on?”

  She could tell the truth, but what was the point? Julia would get on a plane at the end of the week, and they’d probably never see each other again. She bit back her feelings and said it was nothing, that she was just tired, but as she walked away from Julia, her true feelings chanted a silent refrain. Disappointed. I’m disappointed. And I so didn’t want to be.