Smoke and Mirrors (5 page)

Rosemary had taken Kay's place on the sofa, as well as her knitting. She wasn't as skillful as Kay; she had to watch her hands, but it didn't keep her from talking.

"I won't appear on the same platform with that sleazeball, Joe; no way. Tell him thanks but no thanks. Be tactful, as only you can be. . . ."

Seeing Erin she broke off and motioned at the place beside her. Joe wasn't willing to abandon the topic, however.

"Damn it, Rosie, you need his endorsement. Those union votes—"

"You're out of touch with modern politics, Joe," Rosemary interrupted. "Unions don't vote as blocs—if they ever did. The last election ..." She dropped the knitting and snapped her fingers. "Will?"

Will had blended back into the scenery. An apparently disembodied voice replied promptly, "Split all the way down the line from President to county council. Rosemary got sixty-one percent last time."

Thanks, Will." Rosemary snapped her fingers again. "I love doing that," she murmured.

"Power mad," said the distant voice of Will.

"Talk about being out of touch with political reality!" said Joe,
who had not appreciated Rosemary's criticism. "Last election you were the incumbent in a district you've owned for over a decade. This is the Senate, dammit. Buzz Bennett owns that seat the way you own yours."

"Never mind that now," Rosemary said firmly. "We have a guest, and I'm sure political strategy bores her. How is your mother, Erin?"

But it was impossible in that house and that time to keep off the subject of politics. They served themselves from the dishes Kay had placed on the table—shrimp salad, hot rolls, iced tea—and before long Joe had returned to the forbidden subject. "So maybe he can't deliver the votes he thinks he can; we can use his organization and his people, for canvassing, direct mailings—"

"His idea of a direct mailing is a quick and dirty," Rosemary retorted, biting into a roll with a ferocity that implied she would have preferred to sink her teeth in someone's jugular. "Even if I'd stoop to those tactics, they do more harm than good."

Erin found herself on one of the wide, cushioned window seats, with Nick beside her. "All this is so much Greek to you, I suppose," he said.

Torn between resentment at his patronizing tone and genuine curiosity, Erin yielded to the latter. "What's a quick and dirty?"

"Something that accuses the other candidate of a charge that is either false or impossible to refute. Even if he can prove it's a lie, the damage is done; people remember the accusation longer than the refutation."

"Oh."

"You didn't tell me you knew Rosemary way back when."

"It was my mother who knew her."

"Before you were born?"

"Well—before and after. We lived in Richmond until I was two. "

"And then you moved to—"

"Indianapolis."

"I thought the accent was midwestern," Nick said. "So you haven't seen Rosemary since?"

"No." It was beginning to sound, and feel, like an interrogation.

"Nobody ever tells me anything, but I get the impression this isn't a purely social call. Kay was right, you know; our cash flow is a muddy trickle. If you're looking for a job—"

"I don't know that that's any of your business, Mr. McDermott."

"Nick. It could be my business. I wear a lot of different hats; you might end up working for me if you—"

"Excuse me." Erin rose. "I'm going to have a little more salad."

After helping herself, she went to join the others. The job wasn't so important to her that she was willing to be quizzed by a lowly volunteer, how ever many hats he wore. He had no right to pry into her background. Hadn't Joe said it was Rosemary who would make the decision?

She looked at Rosemary—feet on the coffee table, hair straggling—and hoped her feelings about this peculiar interview didn't show on her face. It was so wildly different from the way she had pictured it—a stately mansion, a handsomely furnished office, Rosemary rising with quiet dignity from behind a mahogany desk, wearing something elegant and tailored. . . . Surely this was not a typical political campaign, or a typical candidate. Why did Rosemary allow these people, her subordinates, to treat her the way they did? Well, not Nick or Jeff, they were polite enough, but even they didn't demonstrate the deference a congresswoman ought to command, and the other pair were downright rude at times.

Kay was the next one to engage Erin in a private conversation—not difficult, since the argument between Joe and Rosemary had risen in volume and the others were listening, putting a word in now and then when they could make themselves heard. Kay's questions were even more searching than Nick's had been, but this time Erin felt she could not refuse to answer. She wasn't sure of Kay's precise position, but the older woman obviously held a high-level job. Perhaps Rosemary had deputized her to conduct the job interview.

Erin had barely begun to describe her background when Kay surprised her by saying, "I knew your father, years ago, when he handled some of Congressman Marshall's legal work. We were sorry to hear of his death. Cancer, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I didn't realize you—"

"You yourself have had no legal training?"

"No, I majored in English."

"No experience in the law? Not even in your father's office— part-time, perhaps?"

"I did work for him one summer." Erin realized that legal experience would have been a plus, but honesty compelled her to continue. "It was just routine. Typing and filing."

"I see." Kay's eyes dropped to her work. She executed a series of complex stitches and then looked at Erin. "What made you decide to leave Indianapolis? I would have thought your mother would want you near her, especially now."

The not-so-implicit criticism put Erin on the defensive. "She's living with my aunt. There was . . . there wasn't as much money as we had thought. We had to sell the house, and Aunt Ann was living alone, she never married, and she was glad to have Mother, they've always been close. I didn't feel . . . They didn't really need me. ..."

Kay's gaze was cool and unwavering. A wave of resentment filled Erin, not so much against Kay as against herself. It did not occur to her—then—that the questions had no real bearing on her qualifications for a job. She only knew she was telling Kay far more than she needed to know, and when she went on her voice was brusque to the point of rudeness. "I need the money—for myself and for Mother. I thought I could earn more here."

"I see. " Kay's voice matched hers. "But why Washington? Why not Chicago, New York?"

It was another question that had no short, simple answer. Erin explained about Fran and the apartment and the job opportunities; Kay listened with an expression that suggested none of it made any sense or answered the question. "I suppose," Erin said finally, "it was partly because the area wasn't entirely strange to me. It was years ago that I lived in Virginia, but I liked it, and—and ..."

She stammered into silence as she realized the other voices had stopped and that they were all looking at her. Rosemary frowned.

"All right, Kay," she said. "If you don't mind, I'll talk to Erin myself. "

The others took the hint. Jeff was the first to leave, after a coolly courteous "Nice to have met you, Miss Hartsock." Joe's comment was more friendly: "See you around, kid." Nick followed him out, with no more than a nod at Erin. She wondered if she had offended him, and decided she didn't care if she had. Kay remained firmly planted in her seat until Rosemary asked pointedly about some letters that had to go out that day; then she moved slowly, stopping to look back at Rosemary as if she were hoping to be asked to remain.

When the door closed after Kay, Erin expected Rosemary to begin questioning her. Instead she turned and called loudly, "We give you leave to depart, Will."

Erin had forgotten he was there. He rose slowly, fixing Rosemary with a critical stare. "Now it's the royal 'we.' I do urge you to consider what you are about to do, Miss Hartsock. It's dangerous enough to get involved with this gang of rampant individualists, but a boss suffering from delusions of grandeur—"

"Go away, Will," Rosemary said.

Will winked solemnly at Erin and ambled out.

Ten minutes later Erin left the house. There was no one in sight, except for the scattered cats. Two kittens—a tabby and a gray-and-white—were chasing a leaf, but the rest were asleep, forming furry puddles on the chairs or sprawled in drowsy stupor across the worn floor.

The car was as hot as an oven. Erin took off her jacket and then—after a wary glance to make sure no one was looking— struggled out of her panty hose.

Thus refreshed, she was able to think more clearly. It had happened so fast she felt a little dazed. A series of rapid-fire questions from Rosemary—none of them personal, all of them relating to her experience, expectations, and salary requirements— had relieved her of any need to explain or elaborate. Nor had Rosemary deliberated over her decision.

"I can't offer you any more than you are presently earning, and I certainly can't promise you job security. I'm not even sure at this point precisely what I will ask you to do. It depends to a certain extent on you—your interest, your willingness to turn your hand to whatever may be asked of you. To an even larger extent, however,
your job depends on factors over which none of us has any control. The only thing I can promise you is that you won't be bored. If you are willing to take a chance—"

Erin had committed the social solecism of interrupting in her eagerness to accept.

As she sat mopping her perspiring face she wondered why she had been so eager. Rosemary was unquestionably an attraction; she had been charming and friendly, even insisting Erin call her by her first name. It was exciting to be on first-name terms with someone you had seen on television. But was that ephemeral reward worth the risk of finding herself unemployed after only a few weeks or months? What would happen to Rosemary's staff if she lost the election? Rosemary would be out of a job too. She had given up her House seat in order to run for the Senate.

I must have lost my mind, Erin thought. At least I could have told her I wanted to consider it for a day or two. . . . And then a sudden, uncharacteristic burst of recklessness overwhelmed her. Why the hell should I consider it? Fran is always telling me I'm too chicken, too conservative. Why not take a chance for once? I'm young and healthy and capable. I can find another job if I have to; there's always McDonald's! And if Rosemary does lose, I won't be the only one looking for work. They'll all be unemployed, including her.

She put the car in gear and turned the air-conditioning on full blast. It made enough noise to drown out the sounds that were coming from the house, but she glanced into the rearview mirror in time to see Kay come running out onto the porch, with a speed that contrasted sharply with her usual deliberate movements. Erin stopped the car. But apparently Kay didn't want her; the older woman came to a halt at the top of the stairs and stood gazing, but she didn't motion or call.

After a moment Erin drove on. She had forgotten the incident by the time she reached the highway.