Elizabeth the First Wife (35 page)

“Elizabeth…” Mary Pat said sharply, jolting me from my reverie. “The pizzas?”

“Oh, of course, another round. I'll get them ready. And then we can throw on the salmon. I made a cilantro-citrus coleslaw, too, and some all-American potato salad. It's delicious, if I do say so myself.” I took the platter from Mary Pat, who gave me and my black maxi dress the once-over. I could tell she approved.

The retired caterer laughed. “I like an immodest cook.”

“Tis an ill cook who cannot lick his own finger,”
I quoted.
“Romeo
&
Juliet.”

“True, but still, I think you missed your calling. You should have come and worked for me.”

Then I thought about the job interview in the morning and my botched summer of Shakespeare and responded, “Maybe I should have.”

“Hey.”

He was here. Rafa was standing in my kitchen in person, not on a screen, and it was no surprise that he seemed larger in person. He'd brought a lush bouquet of lilacs, the last of the season, and their scent filled the room.

“Aren't you a
dulce viento
blowing into town?” I managed to get out, referring to the flowers.

He handed them to me. “For you. Your favorites, I think. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. The front door was open. I let myself in.” Puck greeted him like he was a long-lost friend, his voice familiar from the hours of conversation earlier in the summer. Rafa returned the affection. “Hey, Puck, how ya doin', buddy?”

I found a glass vase, made a fresh cut, and put the lilacs in water. “These are beautiful, thank you. I'm glad you could make it. Bumble said something about work.” I covered my nerves by pouring him a glass of Prosecco. He accepted it, and I wished for the millionth time that day that my family would disappear into thin air. “Has Brian Williams called for me yet? Because I definitely want to talk to him.”

Rafa laughed. “Public relations is really Suki's territory, not mine. She and Rob are handling the interview requests and statements. I'll let them know your interest.”

“So you just came along for the private jet and the free hotel room like Sarah?”

“I couldn't come all this way and not see Sage Cottage.” He checked out the kitchen and refocused on me. “Well, that and a few other perks.” He held my gaze, then let his eyes wander to the island, spotting the pizza dough I'd pre-grilled. “Need help? I mean, we've cooked together before, right?” He put down his glass and rolled up his sleeves, then moved over to the sink to wash his hands, a protocol I appreciated. “What kind of pizzas are we making?”

Food prep was a comfort zone. “I have red pepper, roasted eggplant, and fresh mozzarella for those with a savory palette. And marionberry, fig, and chèvre for those who want something a little sweeter. Take your pick. Which ones do you want to assemble?”

“I'm disturbed at the thought of eating a Marion Barry pizza, so I'll take the eggplant,” he said, like a true Washingtonian.

“That's kind of your veggie, isn't it?” I said, recalling one of our first Skype conversations.

“I think the early Greeks cultivated the first eggplants,” he mocked in return, as he expertly tossed the toppings onto the dough. I was hugely relieved that the chill I'd perceived on the phone had dissipated. In my fantasy world, where Rafa had come to Ashland for a visit, not political containment, this was how I imagined a conversation between us would be. Except, of course, that a crowd of nosy relatives was sitting fifty feet away waiting for pizza. Recognizing that it may be our only moment alone all weekend, I seized the opportunity to explain.

“I know you think it's unbelievable that I didn't mention anything about the production in our conversations. I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional.” I carefully dried off the berries to avoid his eyes.

He studied me, then spoke. “I know that. It was just a shocker to have this come out of the blue when we'd…been in contact.” Oh, so that's what he was calling it. But he continued, “When you asked my advice about how to get what you want out of somebody, was it related to this somehow? Because I've been thinking that it must have been.”

He'd been thinking about me!
I answered carefully. “It was. Here's the thing, my real purpose here this summer is to protect FX and his professional reputation. Actually, my job isn't unlike yours. You protect Ted; I protect FX.”

Rafa considered my analogy for just a second. “But Ted isn't my ex-husband. Or
People
's Sexiest Man Alive.” I gave him a surprised look. “I can Google, too,” he added.

I went on to explain the whole situation, from FX's anxiety to Taz's demands to my own banishment. I added that, after hours of talking about FX and to FX every day, I really didn't want to spend a lot of time talking about FX at night. “I never considered the fallout. I was so wrapped up in making sure FX didn't make any mistakes in judgment that I made one concerning Maddie. She was so happy with her work, and it seemed so harmless.”

“So how'd you get FX out of the—what'd you call it, gratuitous?—striptease? What did you have that Taz wanted?”

“Um, I let it slip that FX was, um, half a man. You know, in the parts department.” I was as red as the roasted peppers and suddenly fascinated by the distribution of chèvre on the dough.

There was silence from Rafa, then a sharp burst of laughter as the picture became crystal clear, “Wow, Elizabeth Lancaster, you are a shark! Unbelievable! You should come to Washington, because you have no shame!”

Thrilled by his approval, but pretending to be humble, I shook my head. “I know. I'm awful.”

“Is it true?”

Now it was my turn to burst out laughing. “No!”

“Damn, that would have been great inside information. Does FX know?”

“No!”

“You're good.” He looked at me in admiration or maybe something stronger. Who knew subterfuge could be such as aphrodisiac?

“Well, there's a lot of gamesmanship in Shakespeare. Call me Iago.” And that is as close as I, Elizabeth Lancaster, could get to flirting, evoking Othello and tossing my hair, even though it was tied back in a ponytail.

Just then the front door opened and I heard the unmistakable voice of FX Fahey. “Hello, the house!”

Oh, for God's sake, what was he doing here? He strolled into the kitchen like he was coming home after a day on the job, loaded down with beer, wine, and his agent, Hank. “Maddie told us to be here by seven, so we are. And look who's here—Hank!” He announced this factoid like it was the news we'd all been awaiting for weeks. Then he noticed Rafa and our pizza making. Was that a territorial look on FX's face?

Hank, on the other hand, literally looked like a fish out of water in his fitted suit and his Hermès tie, not the usual backyard-barbecue outfit, in Ashland or anywhere. FX dropped the beverages on the counter and extended his hand to shake Rafa's, clearly sizing up my company. “Hi, I'm FX Fahey.”

I interjected, doing the introductions like my mother had taught me in middle school when I'd answer the door at her garden-club gatherings. “FX Fahey, this is Rafa Moreno, the chief of staff for my brother-in-law.” Then I turned to the bespoke Hank. “Hank Goldberg, Rafa Moreno. Hank is FX's agent.” Rafa wiped his hands and gave both men a firm handshake.

Hank moved in with a double kiss for me, like we were the best of friends after one meeting, several phone calls, and an edible arrangement, so I played along. “Good to see you again, Hank. You look like you're headed somewhere later tonight, but my mother
always says that's the trick to partygoing: dress like you're off to a better event, even if it isn't true. Then you can leave if you want to.” All the men laughed.

Then it was Hank's chance to be overly friendly, “How big a fan are we of Elizabeth's? You've done it, Professor! Created a hit play and a political controversy to boot. I had no idea the scope of your capabilities. I was skeptical when FX told me about this arrangement, but you're the best. Unbelievable job here.”

“Well…” I said lamely, because really, I had done nothing except be in the right place at the wrong time.

“Are you kidding me? There's no such thing as bad publicity, and this is no such thing as bad publicity,” Hank carried on without shame. “Who would have thought we'd get everyone from
Access Hollywood
to network news to cover our little summer project? Not me. Shakespeare? Who cares? But FX on the crawl? Brilliant.”

I'll admit I was reveling in my moment as an accidental mastermind, but it was short-lived. Hank's agenda was not complete. “And Rafa, you're just the person I want to talk to. FX and I have a pitch for the congressman. Or should I say governor? Let's grab a beer and talk.”

“Huh, okay.” Rafa hesitated a bit then wasted no time to go off and talk shop with his new best buddy. My house, my man, and yet the plan was out of my control.

“Are those pizzas ready yet? What's happening in here?” Mary Pat walked into the kitchen. “Oh, hello, FX!” Ever since seeing the play, the Girls had changed their tune on my ex. She gave him a big hug, scooped up the pies, and headed outside, leaving FX and me alone in the kitchen.

He popped open a beer and leaned back against the counter. “Oh, so—Rafa, is it? Seemed very cozy in here. Chief of
staff
, huh?”

“What are you? Fifteen?”

“Some days.”

“You were right. This was a good idea,” Bumble admitted as she, Sarah, and I stood on the deck overlooking the scene. “We should have more normal family things, you know, instead of fundraisers or campaign stops or speeches.” Bumble meant that sincerely. Since she'd joined the ranks of the political spouse and my father won that Nobel, the majority of our “family'” events revolved around something other than family and usually involved a microphone, a silent auction, and/or a call to action. Even cancer researcher Sarah was constantly on the lookout for funding, relying on family to attend luncheons and rubber-chicken dinners. But tonight, even the presence of Rafa, FX, and Hank didn't seem out of place. It was a beautiful night, the cedar-planked salmon had been perfect, and the wine FX had brought along was better than we deserved.

“Okay, Elizabeth, you're in charge of all events from now on,” Sarah commanded. “Especially once you get that new kitchen.”

“Yes, because clearly I'll never win a large prize, run a state, or need to fundraise for anything important. The new dishwasher will open up a whole frontier of event planning for me: family dinners. Unless I'm offered that chairmanship of the English Department at Redfield based on my leading-edge work on Shakespearean characters and their equivalents from the cast of
Friends.”

“Is that really what you're working on?
Friends
as a cultural touchstone?” Sarah asked, looking skeptical.

“Do not mock
Friends
. You know how I feel about the entire cast. Did you know you can pretty much find every character from
Friends
in
As You Like It?
Upon careful analysis, I can posit that Rachel is Rosalind.” My sisters laughed while I couldn't help but notice the foursome in the corner of the yard. Ted, Hank, FX, and Rafa were getting along like frat brothers at a reunion. It made me nervous. I redirected my sisters' attention. “What's that all about?”