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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: Finders Keepers
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It's going well
, Jessie thought halfway through the interview. Some of the tenseness eased between her shoulder blades. She tensed again when the senator asked if she would have a problem working late. “I would of course compensate you for late hours. I might need you occasionally on the weekends if we're working on an important bill.”
“Weekends won't be a problem, Senator Kingsley. However, I'm enrolled for evening classes at Georgetown. On Mondays I have a class at eight. On Wednesday my class is at five-thirty. I can return after class on Wednesday. Mondays I can work till seven-thirty. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays I'm free.”
The senator frowned. “When will you do your studying?”
“On my lunch hour and on Sundays.”
“The job is not hard, but it is a demanding one. Do you think you can handle the duties I outlined as well as the hours, Miss Roland?”
“Yes, Senator Kingsley, I think I can handle it. When would you want me to start?”
“Mrs. Prentis will be leaving officially in two weeks. She's been on a short leave of absence this past month.” The senator's voice dropped to a soft whisper. “Mr. Prentis is in failing health and Agnes wants to spend more time with her husband. I hired her the day I came to Washington, and she's been with me ever since. She's agreed to come in to show you how things are done. She's here now if you would like to meet her.” Jessie nodded. “If you have no other plans for the rest of the day, you could stay on now and get a feel for the way we do things. Mrs. Prentis will discuss your salary and your benefits. Paperwork takes time. I like my coffee strong and black with just a smidgin of chicory. You make a nice appearance. I like that, Miss Roland.”
Jessie flushed. “Thank you, Senator Kingsley.”
Jessie liked Agnes Prentis the moment she was introduced to her. She was white-haired, pink-cheeked, and buxom, and she wore sensible shoes with a pair of worn felt slippers hidden beneath her desk.
At six o'clock, Agnes Prentis leaned back in her chair. “Now, do you have any questions before we leave this zoo?”
“At least a million, but they can wait until tomorrow. Do you want me to come in at eight or eight-thirty?”
“Seven-thirty would be better We have a lot of ground to cover. If we're lucky, we might get out at five. Senator Kingsley works most nights till midnight. Don't panic now. That doesn't mean you have to stay that late. Do you mind if I call you Jessie?”
“Not at all.”
“I'm going to be very blunt about something. If you want to keep this job, and I think you will, be very cordial to Mrs. Kingsley. The senator's wife has a very sharp tongue, and she wants what she wants yesterday. That's another way of saying everything has to be done instantly. Mrs. Kingsley and Tanner, their son, live in Texas. The senator goes home weekends, or at least he tries to. That's not to say Mrs. Kingsley and Tanner do not come here to Washington; they do, but over the years their visits have dwindled to one or two trips a year. Mrs. Kingsley calls the office five or six times a day. Tanner rarely calls. If possible, put the calls through. You'll need to use your best judgment where that is concerned. If you let her, she'll run you ragged traipsing all over town for what the senator calls ‘her piddly-diddly nonsense.' You'll need to stand firm, or she will walk all over you. Please understand. I'm not being disloyal to the senator. I just want you to be prepared. You'll like Tanner. He's a bit of a rogue, and he does like the young ladies. After one of his visits, all I do is take calls for him. He doesn't like to say good-bye, you see.”
Jessie drew a deep breath as she tried to digest all the information Mrs. Prentis was offering.
“There is a staff of four, but you'll be in charge. Scheduling will be the biggest problem, but with time you'll make it all work out. Delegate whenever possible, especially on the nights when you have to work late. The senator likes a full coffeepot at all times. Don't be concerned if it looks like mud after sitting for hours. He likes it that way. He waters his own plants early in the morning and trims the leaves himself. He loves raisin-filled cookies.” She paused, smiled warmly. “Now I say we go home and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be a long, full day. I've kept personal logs I'll leave with you. When you feel more confident about how things are going you can return them.”
“That's very kind of you, Mrs. Prentis. I appreciate it.”
“Call me Agnes. When my husband Gerald is feeling better and you have things under control, perhaps we can have lunch.”
“I'd like that, Mrs. . . . Agnes.”
The older woman smiled. “I think, Jessie, you are just what this office needs. In case you don't know it, Senator Kingsley is one of the most influential members of the Senate. There is talk of his becoming Majority Leader next term.”
Jessie hoped she looked suitably impressed as she followed the older woman from the office.
Her first job.
She was a working girl in the most famous city in the world.
An independent working girl. Oh yes.
P
ART
II
6
Ashton Falls, Tennessee
July 1976
 
Grace Larson stared at the glass of lemonade in her hand. The ice had melted long ago, so why was she still holding the glass? She wondered why she hadn't at least sipped at the tart drink. As she leaned over to set the glass on the floor of the front porch JJ eyed the glass and flopped down under the swing.
“I've never seen heat like this, JJ,” Grace said as she wiped at her brow with her apron. “I think I might ask Ben to bring down some bedding, so we can sleep on the porch tonight.”
“Grace!”
“I'm on the porch, Ben. I think we should sleep out here tonight. It must be a hundred degrees upstairs.”
“At least,” Ben said as he sat down next to his wife on the swing. “Is something wrong, honey. You seemed out of it all day.”
“I guess it's the heat. Maybe it's my hot flashes. I watered all the plants on the porch twice today, and they're still wilting. Why is that, Ben?”
“Have you been thinking about Hannah all day?”
“Yes, and I don't know why. Why do you think they stopped sending the money, Ben?”
“I was thinking about that the other day. Maybe they ran out. Maybe they died. Maybe they had a figure in mind when they started to send it and in their mind, they're all paid up. We should think about doing something with that money, Grace. Nobody in their right mind keeps money like that in a trunk.”
Grace patted her husband's hand. “I haven't been in my right mind since the day Hannah disappeared. The best thing that could happen to us is someone breaks into our house and steals the money. I wouldn't even report it to the sheriff.”
“We could give it away.”
Grace reached down for the warm lemonade. She gulped at the sour drink until her eyes watered. The sleeping dog opened one eye to watch the proceedings. “If we do that, Ben, then we're admitting it's over. It will be like . . . we're giving up.”
“I gave up a long time ago, honey. So did you in your own way when you stopped knitting those red sweaters.”
“That was different, Ben. It's hard to knit with the arthritis in my hands. I guess I should have told you I've been buying red sweaters.”
Ben's tone of voice changed. “Yes, you should have told me. Why, Grace?”
“Because I won't give up. Those red sweaters give me a sense of peace. I don't know why that is either.”
“I think we need a vacation. Sometimes these mountains close in on me. You've always liked the beach. Let's just pack up and drive to Florida.”
“There's no money for a vacation, Ben.”
Ben stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I'm tired of all this, Grace. All we have to do is go upstairs and open that damn trunk. We could pay for the kids' college education. They deserve it. I'm damn sick and tired of living hand-to-mouth. We live like hermits. We never have ten extra dollars that doesn't have to be accounted for. You need new clothes. I need new shoes. The boys can use a lot of things. Before long we're going to need a new refrigerator. I can't fix that old thing one more time. Are we going to use an ice chest when it finally goes? And what about your arthritis medicine? I choke every time I see that bill from the pharmacy. We can't keep handing out money to our parents and eating macaroni seven days a week. We could make life so easy for them. Look at me, Grace. Do you have any idea how tired I am? How much longer do you think I can continue to work two jobs? There are some days when my back is so bad I want to cry. I've had it, Grace. We need to make some changes here, and we need to make them real soon or I'm out of here. I'll leave you with this whole mess we've created. Notice, Grace, that I said, we've created.”
“What are you saying, Ben?”
“You know damn well what I'm saying, so don't pretend you don't. This stupid bullshit is over.”
Tears rolled down Grace's cheeks. “I wouldn't know what to do without you, Ben.”
Ben's voice was so cold, Grace shivered. “Then don't bring it to a test.”
“How much, Ben?”
“The amount doesn't matter. We have to move on to a better life. I'm not saying we should buy a big fancy house or a sports car. All I want is for all of us to be more comfortable, and be able to pay for the kids' college. I'm giving you five minutes to make up your mind. At the end of the five minutes I will either go into the kitchen and sit down with the calculator or I will go upstairs to pack my things. The clock is ticking, Grace.”
“All right, Ben. Do whatever you have to do.”
“Grace?”
“What?”
“Do not ever serve me macaroni again. I want you to go into the house right now and throw out all the peanut butter. I will never, ever, eat it again either. Tomorrow you will go shopping for all of us, your parents, my parents, for the boys, and us. I'm going to make a list of things for you to do tomorrow. You are going to handle this, Grace, and you will not fall apart. If you do, I will leave you with your parents. I will not look back.”
“All right, Ben. Don't beat it to death. I said to do whatever you have to do.”
“After dinner tomorrow night you will pack our bags, I'll load up my new truck, we'll park the kids with your mother, and we'll start on our vacation.”
Grace's voice dropped to a bare whisper. “When did you stop loving me, Ben?”
“The day you told John we couldn't afford to pay for his college education.”
“Will the money make it right, Ben? Will it help you to start loving me again?”
Ben refused to meet his wife's pleading eyes. “I don't know.”
“I never stopped loving you, Ben.”
“You don't even know who I am anymore.”
“You're my husband.”
“It's nice of you to remember. For years now I thought I was just someone who took up space here and paid the bills.”
Grace started to cry. “I guess you were in a way. I'm sorry, Ben. I don't know what else to say.”
“Sorry is a good place to start. We'll work on it from there.”
Ben watched his wife from his position at the kitchen table as she cleaned out the kitchen cabinets. It wasn't true what he'd said about not loving her. He loved her so much he ached with the feeling for what they'd both lost. He was glad now that his wild gamble was paying off. He would not allow himself to think of the alternative if Grace hadn't agreed to use some of the money in the trunk. Already his shoulders felt lighter, and he thought he could see a glimmer on the horizon.
“The trash men are going to love me this week,” Grace said. “I have two dollars and fifty cents in the sugar bowl, Ben. Let's go down to the store and get ice-cream cones. JJ hasn't had one for a long time. You can work with your calculator when we get back.”
“Two dollars and fifty cents! Did you hear that, JJ. Come on, boy, get your leash and let's take Mom out for ice cream.”
 
Washington, D.C.
December 1976
 
Jessie slid her overnight bag under her desk and hung her garment bag on the hat rack. In just a few hours she would be leaving for New Orleans and Sophie's graduation. Five whole days with her old friend she hadn't seen in over a year. They would do graduation, the Thanksgiving they missed, and Christmas all in one shot, Sophie had promised.
Jessie was early that morning, purposely so because she had last-minute details to see to so the office would run smoothly until her return. She turned on the coffee machine, then replaced the wilted flowers with fresh ones she purchased on her way to work every other day. Sometimes she wished she wasn't so conscientious. However, that conscientiousness had earned her the title of right hand to Senator Angus Kingsley, a job she took very seriously. In the past three years she'd learned what she had to do and what she could have others do to free up more time for her studies and to make herself indispensable to the senator. She could do two things at once while she was thinking and planning ahead to her next project. Once she'd danced a jig in her office when she overheard the senator tell someone he couldn't function without Jessie Roland. Shortly afterward she'd been given a healthy raise.
Jessie looked around the four rooms in which she'd spent the last three years working. She loved the rich, warm paneling, the vibrant Oriental carpeting, and the one-of-a-kind works of art adorning the walls. Works of art personally selected by the senator's wife. More than anything, though, she loved the mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed to overflowing with law books and handsome leather-bound rare first editions as well as glossy
New York Times
best-sellers. The furnishings were old, worn, and comfortable, something she particularly liked. The plants the senator trimmed and watered were healthy and added a homey touch to the otherwise masculine suite of rooms. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. The scent of power was everywhere in the office suite, and she was part of it. She thought about the secrets she knew and the other secrets Agnes Prentis had told her. She clamped her lips shut as she shook her head to clear her thoughts. She crossed her fingers that the day would never come when someone would ask her under oath about those secrets. Breakfast deals, cloakroom deals, golf-course deals. When she returned, she'd think about those things. Today was hers, and she wasn't going to give Senator Kingsley and Washington a second thought.
Mentally, Jessie ticked off the small chores yet to be done. Fill the senator's candy jar with licorice sticks, check to be sure the “munchies” drawer was filled with fresh bags of chips and pretzels, the refrigerator full of soda and juice. She eyed the portable bar in the senator's private office. None of the bottles was past the halfway mark. Was there extra ice? She opened the small under-the-counter refrigerator. Plenty of ice. Everything was neat and tidy, no sign of dust anywhere. The coffee, filters, and bottled water were ample. Now, on to the appointment book and the senator's schedule.
Jessie took a long moment to stare at the two family photographs all senators kept on their desks. Angus Kingsley was no exception. Smiling faces in happier places. She wondered how she knew that. Possibly through her predecessor Agnes Prentis's logs, or else little hints she'd dropped during her first year on the job. She had to wonder if the rumors she'd heard about the senator and Mrs. Kingsley were true. It was hard to imagine the shaggy senator she adored being unfaithful to his wife.
Alexis Kingsley reminded her of Sophie's mother, elegantly beautiful, always dressed to the nines, with cold eyes and a colder heart. From what Agnes Prentis had said, her assessment of the senator's wife was accurate. According to Agnes, the only time Alexis Kingsley came to Washington was when she wanted something. Jessie shivered when she looked in the appointment book. Alexis and Tanner Kingsley were coming to town next week. They would arrive the day after Jessie returned from Louisiana.
During the past year she had fantasized about Tanner Kingsley. Each time she dusted the silver-framed picture, a different fantasy would surface. She couldn't help but wonder if the young man was as handsome in real life as he was in his photograph. Unlike his mother, he sat astride a horse, and was dressed in denim with well-worn boots. His Stetson was pushed back on his head as he smiled into the camera. Agnes said Tanner had charisma, which according to Agnes, was another way of saying he could have any woman he wanted. She'd gone on to elaborate by saying Tanner had the same kind of charisma his father had when he first came to Washington, years ago.
Jessie blew an imaginary speck of dust from the ornate silver frame. Next week she'd see the Kingsleys in the flesh and make her own assessment.
The door to the outer office slammed shut. Angus Kingsley never closed a door. He slammed it shut to announce his arrival. Jessie waited for the bear of a man to trundle into his office, demanding coffee.
“Damn, Jessie, I'm glad you're early today. There has been a change of plans. My wife and son moved up their visit from next week to today. You'll have to pick them up at the airport and take them to the hotel. Damn, you do make the best coffee, Jessie.”
Jessie gasped. “Senator, I can't pick up your family. Did you forget? I'm leaving for Louisiana in an hour. I penciled it in your appointment book last month.”
“You know I never look at that damn thing. I rely on you to get me to where I have to go and to remind me of things.”
“Senator, we discussed my time off back in September. I told you how important this visit is to me. You said it was fine with you. Those were your exact words, Senator. I didn't take a vacation this year because you needed me. I need this time off.”
“I'm sorry, Jessie, you'll have to cancel your plans. I'm going to need you this week. I promise to make it up to you. Long weekends and a nice raise. You can't let me down.”
BOOK: Finders Keepers
12.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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