Pursuit of Happiness

by Carsen Taite

  “My husband and I host an orphan Thanksgiving dinner every year. You know, a bunch of us who have no extended family in town get together and everyone brings something. I know you probably have plans for the day, but I can text you the address if you’d like to come by. We meet up around noon.”

  Suddenly very aware she and Stevie had never discussed Stevie’s family, Meredith wondered if they were still alive, and why Stevie wasn’t spending the holiday with them. Meredith enjoyed having her own very supportive family nearby, but she did wonder if there was a certain freedom in having no familial obligations. Her parents expected her to show up at their palatial house tomorrow, dressed in formal attire, so they could all sit around the formal dining table while the chef sent out platters of gourmet food for them to politely enjoy. A potluck sounded like a much cozier and inviting experience. “It sounds lovely, but I can’t make it. Family dinner.”

  “Well, if your plans change, come on by. It’s only for a few hours, and then it devolves into a football frenzy and Stevie always takes off early to do a shift at Bridgeway, the homeless shelter. Hey, I should get back in there or she’s going to wonder what I’m up to. You sure you don’t want to talk to her?”

  “I’m sure,” Meredith responded quickly. “I’ll catch up with her later. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Meredith hung up the line for real this time and set the phone on the seat beside her. She should’ve just talked to Stevie, but something about Hannah’s evasiveness told her Stevie would be as reluctant to talk to her. Which only made her wonder what Stevie had confided in Hannah about their last date.

  The next day as she sat around her parents’ dinner table enjoying course after course of decadent food and fielding questions about the campaign, all she could think about was Stevie dishing up plates of food for homeless people, quietly and not seeking any limelight for her efforts. How very different their lives were right now, and how she wished she could be by Stevie’s side even if only for the afternoon.

  Chapter Eight

  Stevie pushed her plate aside and groaned. “When am I ever going to learn not to go back for seconds? That sweet potato marshmallow thing is going to be the death of me.”

  Hannah laughed. “If you’re going to start counting calories at Thanksgiving dinner, you’re going to be banned from coming back. Seriously, cut yourself some slack.”

  “Guilt is not good for my digestion,” Stevie replied. “In an hour I’ll be serving dinner to people who barely ever get a decent meal, and after stuffing my face for the past two hours, I can barely stand the sight of food. What an upside-down world we live in.”

  “Speaking of upside-down, I read in the paper you set a trial date in the Barkley case,” Hannah’s husband, Dave, said. “Do you really think it’s going to trial?”

  “Frankly, I have no idea. The prosecutor is Emily Watkins, and she’s hot to work something out, but we’re not there yet.” Stevie was being deliberately cagey. She trusted Hannah and Dave, but she didn’t know everyone else around the table well enough to disclose that her client still hadn’t given her anything to work with in his defense. “We’ve still got some time.”

  “I think what he did was heroic,” Hannah said. “The FBI is supposed to be working to protect our interests, and if they’re not doing their job, the public has a right to know. If people like William Barkley didn’t disclose what’s going on, then we’d be blindly acquiescing to hackers, who are probably working on behalf of hostile foreign governments, infiltrating our daily lives. Frankly, I expected more from Garrett’s administration.”

  “I’m not sure Garrett even knows that the FBI dropped the ball on the hacking case or that they were even working on it to begin with,” Stevie said. “As much as they’ve tried to coordinate all their efforts since nine-eleven, there’s still a lot of interagency power grabbing going on, and secrets are at the heart of it. As long as that’s the case, we the people are going to be left in the dark with our rights at risk.”

  “Hopefully, Senator Mitchell will be more on top of things when she’s elected,” Hannah replied.

  Stevie let the comment go. Hannah had made no secret of her opinion that Stevie had called it quits with Meredith too soon, and this wasn’t the first time today Hannah had tossed Meredith’s name into the conversation, but she refused to be baited. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop everyone else at the table from jumping in with their opinions.

  Jewel, Hannah’s next-door neighbor, grunted and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m as liberal as the next person, and Meredith Mitchell is going to get my vote, but when it comes to national security I think anyone who gives classified information to anyone, especially the press, should be convicted of treason and left to rot in prison. We can’t possibly know the full ramifications of the information he disclosed. There may be undercover operatives whose identities are now exposed whose lives are in danger. People don’t take time anymore to consider the true consequences of their actions. There’s a right way to do things and a wrong way.”

  Stevie wanted to tell Jewel that the information Barkley had disclosed to the press hadn’t contained any particulars about spies, and that overall, it was pretty boring stuff, but she had to walk a fine line because the documents were still deemed classified, and further disclosure of the contents could have her running afoul of the Espionage Act. Besides, she doubted Jewel would believe her since the popular talk radio shows had been spinning the whole lives in danger theory for days. But what Jewel said was important because there would be jurors who’d feel the same way, and she was going to have to figure out how to convince them that the good accomplished by Barkley’s action outweighed any associated harm. For now she nodded and smiled, grateful when Jewel and several of the others started clearing the table.

  When everyone else was in the kitchen, Hannah picked up her empty plate and stacked it with her own. “You seem melancholy today.”

  Stevie ignored the comment and reached for the plates. “Let me help you with that.”

  “Nope. I got this. Take a breather.”

  Stevie started to protest again, but Hannah waved her away and headed off to the kitchen where the rest of their dinner companions were washing dishes and bagging up leftovers. Stevie leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes for a few minutes. She was a little melancholy. She always felt this way around the holidays—a small part of her longing for the family she’d left behind so many years ago, but she knew her longing was misplaced. The good friends and good time she’d had today was a fairy tale compared to the angst-ridden holidays of her youth where her father had always started dinner with a prayer asking the Lord to love the sinner, but remove the sin before shooting a pointed look in her direction so there was no mistaking exactly which sinner he was talking about. Her sexuality wasn’t the only source of contention; she’d never been able to bite back protests whenever he or the rest of her family talked about what they perceived as society’s injustices: welfare, aid to the homeless, subsidized healthcare. In their view, you earned your own way in the world and people who accepted assistance were less-than.

  She’d left home when she was seventeen and never looked back. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d studied her ass off while she couch-surfed with friends until she graduated from high school. She’d worked through college and law school, graduating with honors, and when her education was done, she never thought twice about entering government service where she’d have the opportunity to give back.

  “Are you ready for pie?”

  Stevie looked up to see Hannah and the others strolling into the room carrying three pies between them. She grabbed her stomach. “Not a chance. Besides, I need to get going.” In spite of their protests, she said her good-byes and headed out.

  Bridgeway Homeless Shelter was only a few miles away from Hannah’s place, and Stevie spent the drive trying to shake off her own malaise. She knew part of her problem was the abrupt end to whatever had been brewing between her and Meredith. Seeing Meredith
on TV making the announcement about her presidential bid yesterday hadn’t helped, and she’d spent the time since wondering how things would be different if she hadn’t walked away. Would she have taken off work so she could stand in the crowd and cheer on Meredith’s announcement? Or would she have waited backstage to enjoy a private moment with her before she took the stage?

  Her musings were silly. Even if she could’ve stood the media frenzy, Stevie knew there was no room for her in Meredith’s life now. Meredith’s path to the White House would be focused and solitary, with no time for drinking beer at Quarry House or sneaking barbecue dinners at Ellie’s. She’d chosen to walk away, but she missed the idea of being with Meredith more than she’d imagined she would.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the shelter and struggled to clear her head. Neither the people who worked at the shelter nor the homeless they’d be serving today needed to be subjected to her sour mood, and by the time she parked her car, she’d managed to put on a friendly face.

  “Hi, Stevie,” one of the regulars called out when she walked through the door. “Joanie’s in the back with your friend.”

  “What?” she asked, but he’d already moved on to start setting tables. She glanced around the room. She’d been volunteering here for the past ten years, and they usually got around a hundred people through the doors on Thanksgiving. No doubt he’d been referring to one of the other volunteers slated to work the holiday. She strode to the back of the dining hall and pushed through the kitchen doors. “Joanie, I’m here and I’m ready to peel all the potatoes in the land,” she called out.

  Joanie was nowhere in sight, but a familiar voice came from the back of the kitchen. “I think I may have already done that.”

  “Meredith?”

  Meredith stepped out from behind the tall kitchen rack wearing an oversized white apron and brandishing a knife. Stevie laughed out loud.

  “What?” Meredith said, looking down at her apron. “You don’t think this look suits me?”

  Stevie pointed at the knife. “You might want to lose the weapon unless you plan to adopt it as part of your campaign slogan. ‘I’m Meredith Mitchell and I’ll cut inflation, taxes, and crime.’”

  Meredith returned the smile. “I like it. Remind me when we’re done here, and I’ll let my campaign manager know he’s been replaced.”

  At the mention of a campaign manager, Stevie sobered. For a brief second, she’d believed Meredith might actually be here to see her, but that was crazy. Meredith had just launched a presidential campaign, and her presence at a homeless shelter on Thanksgiving was likely nothing more than a typical photo op designed to make her like a regular person, caring about the needs of her fellow citizens. Stevie glanced around.

  “Hey, what are you looking for?” Meredith asked.

  Stevie did her best to ignore that Meredith had come closer and they were now standing inches apart. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Where’s the press? I don’t mean to be rude, but you should really have them get their coverage before the guests start arriving. The people who come here to eat may be homeless, but they have a right not to have their pictures splashed through the news.”

  Meredith frowned. “Is that what you think of me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “This isn’t a media bit. In fact, I wore a scarf around my head and oversized sunglasses, Jackie-O style, so I could sneak in here. Being here, doing something worthwhile, is my way of escaping from the roller coaster my life is about to become.” She paused for a few beats. “Plus, I wanted to see you, and Hannah told me you’d be here.”

  Stevie wanted to say she was glad, but all she could manage in the moment was, “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Meredith set the knife on the counter. “Look, I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know it’s going to be crazy. I just jumped off a cliff of sorts and I may fall flat on my face, but I’m going for this. All the way. I know this isn’t your thing, but all I’m asking for is to get to know you better and maybe some companionship along the way. No big promises other than respect, fun, and when it comes to the press, a big fat no comment. What do you say?”

  Stevie let Meredith’s speech wash over her. Like any good politician, Meredith had the gift of persuasion, but it wasn’t hard to convince someone to feel a certain way when they were already predisposed to do so, and Stevie was more than halfway there. “You can’t control the press.”

  “You’re right for the most part, and I know why you’re so averse to them, but I can control the narrative.” She waggled a finger back and forth between them. “How’s this: we’ve been on a couple of dates and we enjoy each other’s company. It’s new and nice, but we both have busy lives that take most of our focus. We’d appreciate the same privacy any other two people would at the beginning of a new adventure.”

  “Are you telling me or the press?”

  “I’m telling anyone who wants to know.” Meredith reached for Stevie’s hand. “I promise not to lead a herd of media to your door, and if we want to continue to see each other it might involve some decoy cars and other sneaky maneuvers, but I’d like to give it a try if you would.”

  Stevie didn’t hesitate this time. Meredith showing up here today, without the cameras and the entourage, was a unique offering, a second chance. Whatever was about to happen was going to be special, and she wasn’t about to let the opportunity to get to know her better pass by. “I would.” She picked up the knife. “Now, let’s go peel some potatoes.”

  Chapter Nine

  Christmas Day

  Meredith walked into her parents’ living room and scanned the picture-perfect holiday scene. Two large Douglas firs flanked the massive stone fireplace, each decked out in yards of white chiffon and sparkling lights, while the rest of the room looked like a holiday window display at Neiman Marcus.

  “It’s the perfect photo op,” Jen said from behind.

  “Don’t start,” Meredith replied. “I meant what I said about today being off limits.”

  “All day?”

  “What’s left of it. I wore the silly Santa hat and passed out toys at the children’s hospital this morning, and then read about seven hundred briefing papers, so I think I’ve earned a break. Even Gordon agreed I should have the rest of the day off. Every moment from now until tomorrow morning is campaign-free.”

  Jen let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, we don’t have to let any press in, but I’d love to get a few pictures we can release later. Kind of a how the senator spent her holidays piece. It’s great public interest.”

  Meredith knew Jen was right. The more she could humanize her campaign, the better she’d be able to connect to voters, but she wasn’t convinced photos taken at her parents’ opulent estate would convince regular people she could relate to their lives. Besides, none of these decorations were her taste; she preferred a much simpler style. She glanced at her watch, noting she still had a little time before Stevie was supposed to arrive, and then pointed to the French doors that led to the back deck which was decorated in a more rustic theme. “You have fifteen minutes to get whatever pictures you want and then put away the cameras, the social media, everything. Deal?”

  “Deal. I’ll go get the camera.”

  Meredith walked out to the deck. She shivered at the cold, but didn’t bother going back inside for her coat. She’d learned a long time ago, on her first campaign, that candidates should never show weakness in any form, and that included bundling up on a cold day or perspiring on a hot one. God forbid anyone would want a human being representing their interests.

  God, she sounded bitter, but she really wasn’t. Mostly she was tired. If she’d stuck with her plan to run in the next cycle, or even the one after that, she would’ve had plenty of time to ease into the campaign routine, but her last-minute entry into the race meant she had to do four times the work in less than half the time. She’d spent the last two weeks working with Gordon to assemble the rest of her team and making sure she didn’t miss any filing deadlines—on
top of her duties in the Senate. She needed the few hours’ break she’d be getting today, but mostly she needed to see Stevie.

  They’d talked or texted daily, but there hadn’t been time to get together in person since she’d seen her at the shelter on Thanksgiving. She’d arranged for Erica to pick Stevie up today, not in the town car that she’d used to transport her here earlier, but a more nondescript vehicle to respect Stevie’s desire for privacy, and they should be arriving soon. The prospect of seeing Stevie again filled her with excitement. The only thing that would make it better would be if they didn’t have to have their reunion surrounded by family.

  Jen walked outside carrying a camera and wearing a frown. “What’s the matter?” Meredith asked.

  “I hate this thing. Too many buttons.”

  “You have exactly five minutes to figure it out before I bail on you,” Meredith said.

  “Who’s bailing? I just got here.”

  Meredith looked up to see Stevie standing in the doorway with Nelson, her parents’ butler, standing directly behind her. “You asked me to bring Ms. Palmer directly to you when she arrived,” he said.

  “Thanks, Nelson. Please tell Erica to do what we talked about earlier, and then she’s free for the rest of the day. Please let her know I really appreciate this favor.” Meredith spoke the words on her way to Stevie’s side, and when she reached her, she grabbed her hands, desperate to connect with someone who had absolutely nothing to do with politics. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, and, not caring if Jen was watching, she leaned in for a quick kiss.

  “Me too,” Stevie said, “Although when you said your parents had a ‘nice’ place, you were kind of underplaying it.”

  “Well, it is nice, even if it’s not my style.”