The Cost of Commitment - KJ2 (25 page)

“I did take care of it. I convinced his private appointments secretary that it would be detrimental to Charlie’s career to allow him to associate with Kyle. She took it off his schedule.”

“Apparently it got put back on his schedule, because he had dinner with her last night. And today, he’s putting out a friggin’ executive order that has my hair standing on end.”

“How do you know he had dinner with her last night? It wasn’t on his schedule. I checked. There was nothing there. He was supposed to be working at home on a speech to the AFL-CIO.”

“Because
somebody
is on the ball. Breathwaite has her office bugged.

He heard the call from your boss inviting her over and her accepting.

Now he’s the poster boy for every flaming liberal in the country, but he’s made it impossible for the conservative dems, and next to impossible for the more right-leaning moderates, to support him.”

Vendetti was speechless. He was calculating whether or not the appointments secretary would have sold him out to the governor as the one who pushed her to remove the dinner with Kate from the calendar.

Nah,
he thought,
she’s too tight lipped for that. Protect your own, that’s
what she’d do.

Hawthorne was saying, “Now I have to pay our boy a visit and teach him a lesson or two in teamwork and political strategy. I’ll be up there tonight.”

“What?” Vendetti struggled to bring his mind back to the conversation at hand.

“Are you deaf now, as well as dumb? I’m stopping in to see the golden boy and remind him how this candidacy works. He needs to
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understand that he can’t just go off and unilaterally piss off the bulk of our constituency. I suggest you stay clear, if you know what’s good for you.”

Vendetti held the phone out as it was slammed unceremoniously in his ear.

“Charles, it’s good to see you.” Hawthorne clapped the governor on the back as he shook his hand.

“Bob. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. What brings you to our fair state?” The governor, well schooled in keeping his expression neutral, managed to hide his dislike of the DNC chairman. They were standing in the doorway of the governor’s New York City office high atop the World Trade Center.

“Well, you know, I like to get out every now and again—see different parts of the country. And I do so love the cold November wind in the Big Apple.”

“I can imagine.”

“Actually, Charles, I need to tell you—that little stunt you pulled this morning is causing quite a stir, and not in a positive way.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Governor Hyland moved back behind his formidable desk and sat down, a subtle reminder to his visitor that he was in a position of power.

Hawthorne dispensed with the niceties. “You know perfectly goddamn well what I’m talking about, so don’t play games with me.”

The spittle was forming at the corners of his mouth.

“All right, Bob. Say your piece. But I want you to remember,”

Hyland leaned forward in his chair, pointing his forefinger at the DNC

chairman’s chest, “I’m the candidate here, not you. You seem to have a hard time with that. And I have a state to run. The people of New York chose
me
, Bob. They elected me because they thought I could do the job.

And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Neither you nor anyone else is going to tell me how to govern my state.”

“You little pissant. Without the party you’re nothing. You’d be stuck here forever in this backwater if it weren’t for me and the party’s fund-raising machine. You think you’re so important? If we weren’t so far along in the process I’d replace you in a heartbeat.”

“You and I both know there isn’t another Democrat out there who stands a prayer’s chance in hell of winning next November. That’s why we’ve got such a great shot at the White House—we’re not busy beating the living daylights out of each other before the general election season has even begun. You want me out, go for it.”

They were practically nose to nose.

The Cost of Commitment

With effort, Hawthorne put a lid on his temper. “Let’s be reasonable here, Charles. I don’t want to replace you, and you don’t want to be replaced. All I’m asking is that you give a little more consideration to the bigger picture. Polling data taken just hours after your press conference this morning showed a four-percentage-point slip among those identifying themselves as moderates. That’s not even the conservatives, Charles. We can’t afford to alienate our base.”

Hyland, too, reined in his emotions. “The fact is, Bob, what I did this morning helps to solidify our position as traditional Democrats. It sets us apart from our opponents and reenergizes a long-dormant segment of the party faithful that hasn’t had a reason to vote in years. We need the core of the Democratic Party to rally around a candidate who stands for their values. Look at the last election. Nearly a third of the most liberal members of the party stayed home. I’ve just made sure they come to the polls next November.”

“From now on, I hope you’ll consult with me before you take matters into your own hands. We can do advance polling, feel the voters out, find out where they stand on certain issues. We need to take the guesswork out of our positions. Let us help you, Charles. After all, we’re all in this together.”

“Of course we are, Bob. But I want to be clear that I will not govern by the polls. I’ve always been a man who did things because they were the right thing to do. That’s how I built my reputation. If I change the way I’m perceived now it will only hurt us a year from now. There’s a reason, Bob, why I’m not facing any real opposition within the party. I will not mess with the formula that’s gotten me where I am now.”

“Just remember, Charles, that without the party behind you, you wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell next November.”

“Just you remember, Bob, without me the party doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell next November.”

Hawthorne rose from his seat without another word and walked out.

Jay could clearly remember the last time she’d been nervous walking into the massive high-rise in midtown Manhattan that served as headquarters for
Time
—her first day on the job when she was fresh out of college. She had been so intimidated—by the building, the people, the idea of going to work for a publication she’d been reading since she was old enough to decipher the printed words on the page.

That had been three years earlier. Now here she was, nervous again. It was her first day back from the suspension. What would her colleagues think? Would they treat her differently? What kind of assignments would she be given? Would she ever get another cover story? And how would
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the readers react? Would there be more letters to the editor demanding that she resign or be fired? Jay knew from Trish that there had been half a mailbag full of those. But they had been counterbalanced by the half a mailbag full of letters supporting her, deriding the tabloid press for its overzealousness, and expressing respect for the way she had handled the situation.

“Good morning,” she said to the security guard at the front desk.

“Good morning yourself, Miss Parker. Nice to have you back.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to be back.”

Perhaps things aren’t going to be so bad after all,
she thought as she got on the elevator. The looks she got once she emerged on her floor and made her way to her cubicle were a mixture of bemusement, resentment, and benign disinterest.

“Hey, Jay,” Warren Jacobs called from across the room. “How does it feel to be a celebrity?” He smiled at her. “Can I have your autograph?”

“Only if you pay for it, buddy.”

“See, it’s always about money with you, blondie.”

“Hi. Jay. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed that trademark smile.”

Jessica Howland touched her on the arm as she passed. “Things have been so very dull around here without you. Steve had no one to pick on, Warren was sulking in the corner, Mary couldn’t complain about you getting all the choice assignments. Geez, you can’t imagine how tough it’s been.”

As if on cue, Mary skulked around the corner, her face fixed in its usual perpetual frown. She looked at Jay as if looking at a piece of musty old furniture that needed to be put out on the curb.

Jay made a point of smiling broadly at her. “Hi, Mary. How’s everything going?”

In her characteristic monotone she said, “They
were
going fine. I actually had a real story or two to cover in the last two weeks. Imagine that.”

“Good for you, Mary,” Jay said with as much sincerity as she could muster. “I’m glad.”

Mary made a sound somewhere between disbelief and derision before continuing on her way to the elevators.

“She’s such a ray of sunshine, isn’t she? Just brightens up the place.”

Jessica walked with Jay over to her desk. “Ignore her, Jay. Most of us are with you. What happened to you could have happened to any of us, and we all know it. I can’t say there haven’t been times that I’ve been interviewing some hunk where I haven’t wanted to carry the relationship into the personal.” She shrugged. “C’est la vie.”

“I love it when you speak French. Thanks, Jess. You’re the best.” Jay smiled at her.

The Cost of Commitment

“Parker, get in here!” Trish bellowed, winking.

Jay walked into her editor’s office and stood uncertainly inside the doorway.

“Don’t just stand there, Jay, come all the way in and sit down.”

As Jay settled herself in one of the uncomfortable visitors’ chairs, Trish regarded her carefully.

“Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be here and not upstairs,” Jay replied, referring to Standislau’s penthouse office.

“Yeah, well, let’s try to keep it that way, shall we?”

“No argument from me.”

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly, Trish? I’m a little nervous.”

“That’s understandable. Just remember, Jay. It doesn’t matter what a few narrow-minded, two-bit reporters who won’t ever rise above writing sidebars think. Standislau and I are behind you 100 percent, and so are the majority of your colleagues.”

“Okay.”

Jay got the distinct feeling that Trish was evaluating her.

“What kind of story do you want to do this week, Jay?”

“This is a first. You’re asking me what assignment I want?”

“In a manner of speaking. I will, of course, be more than happy to veto any choice you make that I don’t like. But I thought I’d at least give you a crack at making a pitch.”

“Did someone hit you on the head while I was gone? Who are you and what have you done with Trish? Since when does what a reporter wants to write about enter into the equation?”

Trish laughed. “Look. It’s obvious to me that you’re uncomfortable, and I can understand that. I might be, too, in your position. I want to give you a chance to shine. Let’s show everyone what you can do and why you’re one of the best damned writers we have. It seems logical to me that the best way to accomplish that is to let you pick the topic. So what do you want to write about, Jay?”

“You never cease to surprise me, you know that?”

“I like that. Predictability is so boring.”

“Uh-huh. Does it have to be a hard news story?”

Trish narrowed her eyes. “Not necessarily.”

“Okay.” Jay paused to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking for a while now about doing a piece on Native American medicine.”

“Tell me more.” The editor sat forward in her chair.

“I want to compare their traditions to our scientific approach. I think there’s a lot we could learn from them. Beyond that, there’s the mystique of exploring a way of healing that’s different from our own. We, as a
Lynn Ames

society, are naturally curious about cultures we’ve never really understood. The Navajo and Hopi tribes have a large presence out in Arizona and New Mexico near Four Corners. I’d like to spend some time there and come back with something truly special.”

“Where in the world did this come from?”

Jay smiled. “I’ve had two weeks to do a lot of reading. Kate has spent some time out there, and she supplied me with some interesting books chronicling the spirituality of Native American health care. Trish, these people inhabit a fascinating world we haven’t taken the time to understand. I want to help change that.”

“Let me think about it for a bit. In the meantime, go get yourself squared away.” When Jay looked at her for further clarification Trish added, “I’ll admit that I’m intrigued. I’ll look at the story board and see if I can clear you to send you out into the middle of nowhere for a week and a half or so.”

“Thanks, Trish. You won’t regret it.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a done deal, I just said I’d work on it. Now get out of here.”

The Cost of Commitment

heard back from Christine today.”

I“Who’s Christine?” Kate sat on the bed, watching interestedly as Jay stuffed items into a huge suitcase, tossed them back out, then, chewing on her lower lip, reconsidered and repacked them.

“She’s the chaplain at Middlebury I was telling you about.”

“Ah, the friend who wants to make honest women out of us.”

Jay laughed. “I think that’s probably beyond her scope, honey, but she did say she was very flattered that we wanted her to officiate at our ceremony.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Before she can say yes, though, she’s got to clear it with the college president, and if he approves, she can check her dates against ours so we can have a meeting of the minds.”

“Or in this case, a meeting of the hearts.”

Jay paused in her packing frenzy to kiss Kate full on the mouth. “I’m pretty sure we already have that, sweetheart.”

“Mm, I’ll give you that. So when will we hear back from her?”

“It should be in the next week or so. In any event, since we were planning the ceremony for early May, we have a little time to play with.”

“Does that time frame still work for you, love?”

Jay looked at Kate quizzically. “Of course it does. Why would you ask that?”

“I just want to be sure you don’t want it earlier or later than that.”