America the Beautiful Read online

  “Assassination?” Kate widened her eyes at the obvious exaggeration.

  Emily released a deep-throated laugh. “Don’t tempt me. Some nights, I actually have dreams about pulling the trigger. Luckily dreams aren’t actionable.”

  “Discredita-shun?” Kate said in her best Cajun accent, a fair imitation of Nick’s slight Louisiana twang.

  “Please. Don’t remind me,” Emily complained, squeezing her eyes shut in mock pain.

  They’d all met in New Orleans a long time ago when they were four law students on a last fling before taking the bar—Emily and Kate from Georgetown and Nick Beaudry and his roommate, Wendell Conway, from Tulane. Wendell and Kate had been a minor flash in the pan, and they’d gone their separate ways only a few months after they’d hooked up. However, Nick and Emily had been flint and steel, and the sparks from their constant clashes ignited a roaring fire of a romance, culminating in the social wedding of the season—held in the White House, no less.

  The honorable William R. Benton, president of the United States, had escorted his niece, Emily, down the aisle in the East Room, taking the place of her father, the late Henry Benton, his brother.

  As the maid of honor, Kate had the perfect vantage point to see the look of longing on her best friend’s face, but she knew the expression had less to do with the wedding night and more to do with Emily’s realization that she was one step closer to living in the White House. Emily’s political dreams of achieving the presidency had been finalized in grade school.

  Nick and Emily had been the picture-perfect political power couple, a photo favorite of newspapers and tabloids alike. A trace of Native American blood slightly darkened Nick’s Black Irish good looks, which made him a perfect contrast to Emily’s blonde, all-American beauty. Hollywood couldn’t have cast the roles better. In public, they were a dream team.

  But in private Kate saw firsthand how flint and steel could create wildfires of a different sort. Nick and Emily brought out the worst in each other, probably because they were so much alike—always looking out for themselves, never thinking about the team.

  Five rocky years later, Nick chose Emily’s very public thirty-first birthday party bash to rise unsteadily to his feet in front of everyone and declare it was either politics or him and that Emily needed to choose. Now. Before answering him, she calmly blew out the candles on her cake, cut a slice, and held it out to him. Shocked by her silent reaction, he automatically reached for the plate. That’s when she smashed the cake into the pleated front of his expensive hand-tailored tuxedo and motioned for security to remove him from the room.

  Kate managed to smooth over the disruption with the usual dodge of “too much wine and strong antihistamines” as the justification for Nick’s bizarre behavior. No one bought it, but it dulled the gossip to whispers. The next morning, Nick helped shred the remainder of his reputation by being picked up doing ninety on the George Washington Memorial Parkway in a drunken haze and in the company of not one but two known prostitutes.

  From that point on, it was easy to paint Emily as the good woman ridding herself of an unfaithful and feckless husband.

  However, it hadn’t been as easy to remove Nick from Emily’s heart—or from her politics, for that matter. He stayed in Virginia for a while, but Emily’s influence meant he met nothing but roadblocks in his pathway. He eventually returned to Louisiana, where he was shunned for the requisite three years before being allowed back into parish politics. Eventually, he achieved a comfortable status as a gentleman state senator. In public, he and Emily remained civil, albeit cool, to each other, but there were always sharp, coded looks between the two of them that even Kate couldn’t decipher.

  And now, after having tried to slice away at Emily’s political ambitions once before, it appeared he was getting ready to pick up the knife again. And twist.

  “We fight fire with fire,” Emily said. “Right?”

  Kate remained silent, trying to figure out exactly how to drop the last bombshell.

  “Right?” Emily repeated. She took one hard look at Kate. “All right, Rosen. Spill it.”

  Kate drew a deep breath. “Talbot isn’t hiring Nick as a consultant. There’s talk that Nick will become his deputy campaign manager.” That meant Nick wouldn’t merely be trotted out every now and then for maximum embarrassment value. Instead, he’d be part of Talbot’s inner circle, available for round-the-clock information and influence. During his five years in the Benton family’s good graces, Nick had learned which family closets held which family skeletons. He knew enough about the past transgressions of the Bentons to cause some major problems for Emily and for the rest of her relatives in politics. Kate figured that he was in this for payback, and he was going to make the campaign as ugly as he could for Emily.

  That, Kate figured, would be ugly indeed.

  Emily obviously reached the same conclusions as Kate; she let loose a string of expletives that, no doubt, she’d learned at her father’s knee. Times like this, it was best just to let her burn off the excess anger. Kate had learned long ago to let her friend yell, scream, throw things, whatever it took to bleed off the worst of the temper. To Emily’s credit, she had the self-control to never do it in public. But Emily never felt the need to rein in her impulses around Kate—for better or for worse.

  So in private, all bets were off.

  It took nearly five minutes for Emily to run out of steam and invectives. After circling the room, growling like a caged tiger, she finally flopped onto the bed again, spent.

  Long experienced in dealing with Emily’s intense emotions, Kate stood over her friend, her arms crossed. “You finished?”

  Emily sighed. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, can we discuss what to do next?”

  “Simple.” Emily rolled over to her side and propped up on her elbow. “We fight back. You dig. Dig deep. Look in places even he doesn’t know about. Get me every bit of dirt on Nick Beaudry you possibly can. I was married to the guy. He was no saint. And I’ve heard he got worse, not better, after I kicked him out. You can find the ammunition we need if you look hard enough.”

  “But . . .” Kate thought about how much she hated this aspect of politics. Yes, everyone who got into politics knew it would happen to them. Yes, it was part of the game. But Kate always felt that digging for the ammunition of a good mudslinging match left her soiled. Only her loyalty to Emily could make her do it. “But you know how I feel about that stuff.”

  “But nothing. I know you don’t like it. I also know I can count on you to do it right. I don’t want unsubstantiated rumors. I don’t want innuendo. Those things can come back to haunt a campaign. I want facts. You have never given me anything that I couldn’t take to the bank. So I’m counting on you, K.” Emily yawned and stretched. “Is there anything else of earth-shattering importance we need to talk about?”

  Kate consulted her planner. “You’ve been asked to speak at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery.”

  Emily groaned. “I thought you weren’t going to push your religious initiative policy thing at me until I got into office.”

  “I’m not pushing. Though you know how much that religious policy ‘thing,’ as you call it, means to me. This is a request they made on their own through the local campaign office. I didn’t set it up.”

  “When do they want me?”

  “Sunday, the twenty-third.”

  Emily groaned. “By speak, you mean preach, right?”

  “Not really. More like speak. It’s a celebration of the end of the Montgomery bus boycott.”

  “I’m fine with the civil rights aspect, but there’s no way that I’m getting up on a pulpit and doing some fire-and-brimstone song-and-dance routine.”

  “I don’t think they’d expect it of you.”

  “No, but they’d expect me to sit there and look interested. Rapt, even. And sing hymns.” She made a face. “They always want me to sing.”

  “Look, if it bothers you that much, you don’t have
to do it. I can tell them you have family obligations and regret that you are unable to come.”

  “It might even be true—I’ve got an obligation to keep my family free from the problems Nick can cause.”

  “True.” Kate paused. “One question, though.”

  “What?”

  She took a moment to formulate her question. Since Emily had promised to create an Office of Religious Initiatives once she got into the White House, and since she planned to put Kate in charge of it on top of her obligations as chief of staff, then maybe Kate needed to ask a very basic question of her friend now. They’d discussed the issue before, but it was one Emily was adept at sidestepping. “I’ve never understood why you hate doing appearances at churches so much. It doesn’t make sense. You go to church when you’re home.”

  Emily picked up the empty bottle of water and tossed it toward the trash can. “Because it’s good politics to be seen there. No one complains at home when I sit in the back pew and use my BlackBerry during the service. No one expects me to be a mover and shaker in the congregation. I don’t have to join the choir, teach Sunday school, or run the outreach program. I just have to show up. Every once in a great while, I let them trot me out front and center. But they know I won’t do it often or for long. I like that. It’s the religious version of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’”

  Kate grinned, then realized that Emily wasn’t kidding. “C’mon,” she said. “Churches aren’t just collections of people who get together to show off their nice suits on Sunday morning or show off what notable person is in their congregation. Churches stand for something. And those congregations would appreciate hearing what you stand for.”

  “It’s not that simple, K. You know I believe in God and all that, but it’s hard to explain.”

  “Then try. Explain it to me, at least,” Kate said.

  Emily remained on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Let’s just say that I know where I stand politically. Where I stand before God is a totally different question that I’m not ready to investigate. Until I am, I’m steering clear of standing in front of any congregation. Out of sight, out of mind.”

  “Emily!” Kate exclaimed, torn between horror and fascination with her friend’s reasoning. “You can’t avoid God by ignoring him.”

  “Maybe not, but maybe he’ll ignore me if I stay in the back of churches, not in the front. And that’s my plan until further notice.”

  “Avoiding the subject doesn’t make it go away,” Kate said. “I don’t want to sound like I’m repeating myself, M, but sooner or later, you need to come to terms with your faith.” Kate frowned. “I don’t think anyone can survive long-term in politics with their spirit intact without a true and sustaining belief in God.” She glanced toward the bedside drawer, which she knew contained a Gideon Bible. “These days, my faith is all that keeps me sane sometimes.”

  “If you can’t survive in politics without religion, then how do you explain what happens on Capitol Hill every day?” Emily asked. “You sure see lots of lip service to God but not much actual faith. And talk about all that bad behavior and sinning. Hooboy! As far as I’ve seen, Washington’s fruit of the spirit is mostly rotten tomatoes.” Emily crossed her arms. “I may not be preaching from every handy pulpit, but I’ve always stood by my words. So if I get into a pulpit to preach, I need to mean it. Until I can mean it, I’m staying out. Period.” Her face and her posture softened slightly. “It’s not like I’m ignoring God completely. Once I’m in office, I can make things happen. I did it as governor. So you know I can do it as president. I can lead by example. Appoint good people to the bench. I’ve even agreed to your religious office plans, haven’t I? I know it’s been tried before, but I think you can really make it work, especially since I’ve got your back.” She made eye contact with Kate, then turned away.

  Kate studied her friend, knowing the gesture signified an end to the conversation. She sighed. “So what do I do about Dexter Avenue Baptist Church?”

  “Send flowers or something. Anything else?”

  “Nothing pressing.”

  “Good.” Emily unclenched her arms and rolled over onto her back. “As you go out, will you send Chip in here?”

  Although dismissed, Kate didn’t move. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Wise?” Emily released a short bark of laughter. “Not particularly. But I need a distraction right now. And Chip’s good for that. And for keeping his mouth shut.”

  Emily’s change in subject meant she was finished talking about Nick for the time being, and Kate was supposed to simply play along.

  So she did. “Chip may be asleep already,” she said.

  Emily’s expression—it was hard to call it a smile—bordered on predatory. “Or he may be waiting impatiently by the door. Either way, I want him.”

  As she walked out, Kate allowed herself a sigh of exasperation. Pausing outside the door, she tried one last time to make her friend consider the consequences of her actions. “He could be a weak link.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “That’s my job,” Kate said to the door that closed behind her. “It’s what you pay me for.” But Emily wasn’t listening. And she would be waiting for Chip.

  When Kate knocked on the young man’s door, a few rooms down the hallway, he responded much too quickly. Emily was right. He was waiting for her. He failed to hide his momentary disappointment in realizing it was Kate at his door, not Emily.

  “Expecting someone else?” Kate asked.

  He blushed and Kate suddenly felt decades older than he was. She continued with the charade. “Emily needs to speak with you for a moment.”

  “Aahh.” He swallowed his smile and nodded.

  “Briefly,” she added.

  He nodded again and scampered off to their boss’s room.

  Kate didn’t want think about what they did in there. If the two of them were strategizing without her, great. If it was an affair, she didn’t want to know what was going on. Maybe, like Emily, Kate was avoiding a subject she just didn’t want to think about. And as she’d told Emily, ignoring the truth wouldn’t change it. But, she thought with relief, at least Emily wasn’t bragging about it.

  Maybe the relationship with Chip was just another instance of “Don’t ask, don’t tell” that was a part of Emily’s life right now.

  It was times like this that Kate pushed aside their friendship and looked at Emily strictly as her employer. That sort of compartmentalization of emotion had saved their friendship more than once. Although Kate had her friend’s ear, sometimes it was much more important to be her adviser, her nursemaid, or her conscience.

  Or her mind reader.

  But right now Kate didn’t dare try to read her old friend’s mind.

  Kate slid into the desk chair in her room and flipped open her laptop. She’d already anticipated Emily’s command to look into the darker corners of Nick Beaudry’s life in order to short-circuit his effectiveness.

  Fourteen new e-mails waited in her in-box and she hoped that at least one of them would help her start the new scorched-earth phase of the campaign.

  Before she could settle in and start reading the messages, her cell phone rang.

  It was Dozier Marsh. “Kate, got a minute?”

  Kate tried to give herself permission to lie, but something deep inside her refused to take the liberty. As she’d told Emily, her faith was all that was keeping her sane these days. And that meant telling Dozier Marsh the truth. No matter how much she didn’t want to.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “We need to talk. Now.”

  “NOW’S AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY.”

  “Not on the phone. I’m an old man who doesn’t trust modern technology. I use these cell contraptions only under duress. No, I want to talk face-to-face.”

  “Would you like for me to come to your room?”

  Dozier rumbled in laughter. “What? And give the gossips some tasty new fodder?” His accent deepened suddenly. “It might put
a little shine on my reputation, but it probably wouldn’t do much for yours. I can just hear people asking ‘What kind of campaign y’all runnin’ here?’” His laughter faded. “What say we meet downstairs at the bar?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Kate really didn’t want to go, but Dozier was the sort of colleague she felt compelled to please as much as possible. After all, he was a living legend in the field. But even though he’d pulled his weight in the political arena for decades, she didn’t kowtow to him because of his gender or his age. She was the first to admit he wasn’t the easiest man to work with. But she never hesitated to contradict him when he was wrong or to disagree with him when their philosophies differed. Their worldviews failed to converge more often than not, but she picked her battles with Dozier carefully. He belonged to the age where men were men and women smiled and nodded in agreement.

  Kate didn’t.

  She still hadn’t figured out why he’d joined their camp. Yet Dozier, the total old-school politician, had seemingly thrown his considerable weight behind Emily without a second thought about her gender. It wasn’t that Kate doubted his sincerity, but she was puzzled over his unexpected enlightenment on the issue of how important it was to have a woman candidate for president of the United States. Agreement on that basic issue was, at best, rare for a man of his age, his position, and his experience. Key words: man and age.

  But Dozier defied the stereotypes, at least when it came to the thought of Emily as president. He was all for it. As for the rest of his life, he was a poster boy for the bad old days.

  Kate supposed Dozier’s support of Emily was a testament to the power that Big Henry had held over all of them, the sense of unending and unerring loyalty he had inspired in the people around him. Even more surprising to Kate than how much loyalty the old guard felt to Big Henry’s memory was that the legacy of such loyalty had been handed down smoothly from father to daughter in a business that was more often a matter of father passing the mantle of power to a son.