Her Secret, His Duty

Chapter 5


The ring of the phone awakened Debra. She jerked up, scattering envelopes not just across the kitchen table but also to the floor.

A quick glance at the kitchen clock let her know it was after eleven. The phone rang again and she jumped up from the table and frowned as she saw that the caller ID indicated a private number.

She grabbed the cordless phone from its base. “Hello?”

Nobody spoke, but Debra was certain somebody was on the line. “Hello?” she repeated. “Are you there?”

Silence, although the line remained open and the faint sound of somebody breathing sent a chill up her spine. “Is this some sort of juvenile prank phone call?” Debra asked and was rewarded by a click.

She hung up the phone, unsettled by the call but grateful that the ring had awakened her. She still had envelopes to finish up addressing and apparently had accidentally fallen asleep in the middle of the process.

The hot cocoa she’d fixed earlier was now cold in the pot. She poured herself a cup and set it in the microwave to warm and then returned to the kitchen table where she’d been working.

As she sat back down at the table she remembered the dream she’d been having while she slept. It was more than a dream, it had been a memory of a conversation she’d had with her mother when Debra had been about ten years old.

Debra had wanted to know why she didn’t have a daddy who lived with them. Why she was never, ever allowed to talk to her father or see him.

Debra’s mother, Glenda, had tried to explain to Debra that her father was an important man and that he had another family he lived with and Debra would be a bad girl if she ever tried to contact her father because she would destroy his life.

As she grew older Debra had recognized that the truth of the matter was that her mother had been far more enchanted with the generous support checks that came every month than she had probably ever been with the wealthy married man she’d slept with that had resulted in Debra.

The support checks had allowed Glenda to not have to work, to continue to have a party-girl lifestyle that had ultimately killed her in a drunk driving accident the summer after Debra had graduated from college. Those support checks had stolen Debra’s childhood as she’d tried to take care of a mother who was drunk most of the time.

The dream had created ancient memories of rejection, the wistful hopes of a little girl who had just wanted her daddy to want her back. The pang of wistfulness the dream had evoked still lingered in the depths of her heart.

And she was about to place a child of her own in the very same position.

No, it won’t be the same at all, she told herself as she dropped down to her knees to retrieve the envelopes that had fallen to the floor when she’d jumped up to answer the phone.

She gathered the envelopes and then sat back down at the table and took a drink of her cocoa. Glenda hadn’t been much of a mother, preferring her booze and men to spending much time with her lonely daughter.

Debra would be better than that. She would make sure her child knew the depth of her love. She’d love her son or daughter so madly, so deeply, that he or she wouldn’t feel the absence of a father figure.

Besides, there was a chance that eventually Debra would meet a man and marry and then the baby would have a stepfather. She could still create a family unit.

The phone rang again. Debra frowned and once again got up from the table. And again the caller ID displayed a private number. “Hello,” she snapped into the receiver.

Silence. Just like the call before.

“Stop calling, you jerk,” Debra said and slammed down the phone. She unplugged it from the wall. If anyone important needed to get ahold of her, they’d use her cell phone. Her landline seldom rang and usually it was only sales calls. Anyone who knew her always called her on her cell.

Once again she sat at the table and rubbed her eyes wearily and then took another drink of her cocoa. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She needed to get the last of the invitations stuffed and addressed before morning.

She knew that most people in Kate and Trey’s positions hired professional calligraphers to do the hand writing, but early in her employment with Kate, Debra had taken classes so that she could develop the skills so that nobody would have to be hired. It was just one effort a young new employee had done to try to make herself as indispensable as possible.

It was well after midnight when she finally finished. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

The townhouse had a guest bedroom and bath and a master suite upstairs with its own large bathroom. Debra stumbled into the bathroom and quickly shucked her clothes.

It had been a ridiculously long day. After her meeting with Trey she’d contacted the printers who were standing by to get the invitations done. They’d been delivered to her at the estate right before she’d left to go home for the day.

She’d also made a doctor’s appointment for the next day, deciding to get that off her mind instead of putting it off.

Too tired to think about a shower or bath, she pulled on her nightgown and headed for her king-size bed.

The last thing she did before tumbling into bed was unplug the cordless beside her, not wanting her sleep disrupted by any further obvious prank phone calls.

Despite the late night her alarm went off at six and although her desire was to linger beneath the sheets and the navy-and-peach-colored spread, she got up without hitting the snooze button.

After a long hot shower and getting dressed, she plodded down the stairs, feeling almost as exhausted as she’d been when she’d finally gone to bed.

She plugged her phone back in, rechecked the caller ID and was surprised to see that the blocked calls she’d received the night before didn’t show up there. Neither did any other calls show up in the history.

Odd, she thought as she leaned against the counter and waited for her teakettle of water to boil. Maybe her machine was on its way to answering machine heaven. It was certainly old enough to die a natural death.

She’d decided to skip the coffee this morning, knowing that she should have as little caffeine as possible in her condition, and instead stick to a nice hot cup of tea and maybe a couple of crackers. Although she didn’t feel nauseous yet, she remembered the uneasy roll of her stomach the day before when she’d thought about food first thing in the morning.

The neatly addressed invitations were ready to go in a large tote bag on the table. They would be picked up by a special mail carrier at ten that morning from Debra’s office.

She went to the cabinet that held her favorite mug, a pink Support the Cause mug that was her go-to vessel for either hot tea or cocoa.

The mug wasn’t in its usual place. She frowned at the conspicuous empty spot in the cabinet. Where was her mug? She felt a déjà vu from the morning before when she’d had the frantic hunt for Trey’s guest list.

Although she hadn’t used the mug for a couple of days, she walked over to the dishwasher that was full of clean dishes and checked for it there. There was no sign of it.

As the teakettle whistled, she moved it off the burner and then grabbed a teabag and another mug to make her tea.

Still, the mystery of the missing mug bothered her. On impulse before sitting down, she walked over to the refrigerator and checked the freezer, grateful that she didn’t see the familiar pink cup nestled uncomfortably next to the frozen pizza.

She sat at the table and drank the hot tea and nibbled on a couple of saltines, wondering if she was slowly losing her mind. First the list yesterday and now the mug today. Maybe she hadn’t even really gotten those phone calls last night. Maybe she’d only imagined them and that’s why they didn’t register on the telephone caller identification.

Despite the fact that it was Saturday, she had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon at two. Maybe she’d ask her doctor if pregnancy could make a woman go stark raving mad.

She left her house by seven, deciding to go in a little early since her plans were to leave early for her appointment. She still felt tired. Thankfully tomorrow was Sunday and if she felt like it she could sleep until noon.

When she’d initially taken the job with Kate, she’d known it was a six-day-a-week job, that the hours were often unpredictable and could include evenings, but she hadn’t cared. As far as she was concerned, working for Kate wasn’t just a job, it was her passion.

As she pulled up to the side entrance of the gate she was relieved to see Secret Service Agent Jeff Benton on duty. He waved her on through with a cheerful smile.

At least this morning she didn’t have to start her day with another creepy encounter with Jerry Cahill. She got out of her car and noticed that several of the agents stood in front of the carriage house. Even from the distance she recognized Robert D’Angelis, Daniel Henderson and Jerry Cahill. She figured it was a morning meeting of assignments and knew that on most Saturdays the senior Secret Service man, Robert, gave Kate a security update.


Myra was pulling a tray of golden biscuits out of the oven as Debra came into the house. “Mmm, those look yummy,” she said as she greeted the cook.

“Ms. Cecily is joining Ms. Kate for brunch this morning,” Myra explained.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Debra was surprised by the tiny flair of jealousy that winged through her. Of course Cecily and Kate would be growing close, fostering the beginning of a relationship that would probably be a lifelong one. By the time the election happened, Cecily would be Kate’s daughter-in-law. Trey was smart enough to know that being married would make him a more enticing candidate.

“I’ve got biscuits done and I’m about to make that cheesy egg casserole that Ms. Kate loves. I’ve also prepared little fruit cups.”

“Sounds delicious, I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

“Would you like a little plate of your own?” Myra asked.

“Thanks for the offer, but no, thank you. I already had some breakfast this morning,” Debra replied.

As Myra busied herself cracking eggs into a large bowl, Debra carried her purse and the large tote of envelopes to her office. Once there she took off her coat and then sat at her desk, fighting against the unexpected jealousy that had momentarily filled her as she thought of Cecily McKenna.

She had no right to feel jealous. She had no right to wish things could be different, because it was just a waste of energy.

Instead of examining the unusual emotion, she shoved it aside and turned her computer on, knowing that she needed to get all her work done early this morning in order to head out around one for the doctor’s appointment. She was lucky that her doctor saw patients on Saturday.

What she needed to get together for the morning were table dressings that were available for the dinner party that would now take place in just a little under two weeks’ time. She wanted to have a list of tablecloth colors and dinnerware options for Trey on Monday. They also needed to discuss how the head table would be dressed and what kind of centerpieces he wanted for each of the tables.

Details, details. A successful event was always in the minutia of the details and Debra wanted this particular dinner party to be perfect, not just because she was in charge of it, but because it was for Trey.

The special mail courier arrived and Debra was grateful to hand him the tote of invitations, knowing that they would go out today and probably be received by invited guests by Monday or Tuesday at the latest. The RSVPs were due the following week. Debra was expecting very few regrets.

She and Stacy had exchanged half a dozen emails when a knock fell on her door and Cecily poked her head in. Cecily McKenna was a beautiful woman. Her hair was raven-black, cut short and chic, and her eyes were doe-brown. Her features were classically elegant, and when she smiled it gave her face a warmth that was instantly inviting.

“Hi, Debra. I just wanted to stop in before meeting with Kate and let you know how much I appreciate everything you’re doing to help Trey.”

“No problem, we’re all working toward a common goal,” Debra replied, hoping her smile hid her unease at the unusual visit.

“I wanted to give you my personal thank-you,” Cecily replied. “This isn’t just important to the family and staff and me, but I think it’s important for all of the people of North Carolina. Trey is the right man for this job and the dinner party is the first step in assuring that he’s considered a legitimate contender.”

Cecily released a tinkling burst of laughter. “Listen to me babbling on. You know that about Trey already.”

“He’s definitely got my vote,” Debra replied. As she saw the stylish black slacks, gold blouse and tasteful necklace and earrings that Cecily wore Debra felt downright dowdy with her hair in a messy knot at the back of her head and the olive-green skirt and blouse she’d bought two seasons before off a clearance rack.

At that moment Kate called to Cecily. “Oh, gotta go. It was nice seeing you again, Debra. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future.” With another one of her warm smiles, Cecily stepped back and closed Debra’s door.

Debra released a deep sigh. Everything would be so much easier for her if she hated Cecily, if Cecily was snarky and egotistical instead of nice. Things would be so much easier if Debra truly believed that the beautiful woman was all wrong for Trey.

But Debra knew Cecily was the right woman to be at Trey’s side. She was bright and articulate, she came from a stable wealthy family and had influential friends and she appeared to genuinely love people, just like Trey.

Yes, they would make a perfect power couple. It would only be so much easier if in the past three minutes Debra hadn’t realized that she wasn’t just crushing on Trey Winston...but that she was in love with him.

* * *

Trey got a phone call from Debra at noon. “We need to get together on Monday to finalize the rest of the details for the dinner party,” she said. “Is that doable for you?”

“Actually, Monday isn’t good for me,” he replied. “I’m going to be tied up in meetings all day long. What about tomorrow? What’s on your Sunday menu?”

He knew he’d surprised her by the long silence that followed the question. Hell, he’d surprised himself with the question. What was he thinking?

“Actually I was going to try a recipe for bourbon barbecue pork chops,” she said tentatively.

“Sounds delicious. Could I maybe wrangle an invite from you and we could talk about the business end of things over dinner?” Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what in the hell he was doing. It was obvious he wasn’t thinking rationally at all.

He already had dinner plans with Cecily for this evening, there was no reason for him to eat dinner with Debra tomorrow night to discuss work issues. And yet he didn’t take back his words. He was surprised to realize he didn’t want to.

“Around six?” she asked hesitantly.

“Works for me,” he agreed.

When he hung up his phone he didn’t want to consider what he looked forward to more: an elegant fine dining experience with the beautiful Cecily or a smoky bourbon barbeque dinner with his mother’s personal secretary/assistant?

Maybe the pressure of having made up his mind to run for senator already had him cracking up. Maybe he was already seeking some form of escape from the crazy world he was about to enter, and somehow, someway, Debra felt like an escape.

The minute he hung up the phone Rhonda buzzed him to let him know that Chad Brothers, an experienced campaign manager, had arrived.

Dismissing thoughts of Debra, he rose as Chad walked into the office, extending his hand to the man who looked more like a professional wrestler than a savvy political expert.

“I hope you called this meeting for the reason I want it to be,” Chad said after he shook Trey’s hand and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. He leaned forward, his bald head gleaming in the sunshine flowing in through the windows.

“You know I’ve been kicking around the idea of running for the Senate—” Trey began.

“I’d be happy to,” Chad replied before Trey had gotten his entire sentence out of his mouth. “And you know I’m the man who can help get you where you want to go, but if we agree to work together, then we need to get busy right away.”

“I’ve already set up a dinner party that’s taking place a week from next Friday night.” Trey shared the details of the dinner and dance event with the man he trusted to run a fair and honest campaign.

Chad was not only fair and honest, he was also tenacious and brilliant when it came to putting in place a political machine. He was also an old friend that had shown his loyalty to the Winston family for years.

The two men chatted for a little over two hours, talking about plans and tossing out ideas back and forth. Trey found the meeting invigorating and he was in a great mood when he left the office at six for dinner with Cecily at La Palace, a French restaurant where the food was excellent, but equally important was that most of the mover and shakers of Raleigh could be found there on a Friday or Saturday night.

He was meeting Cecily at the restaurant as she was coming from a charity event she’d attended that afternoon for an anti-domestic abuse initiative.

He was eager to tell her about his meeting with Chad. She’d be ecstatic to hear that he’d be working with a man who had the reputation of running an election both effortlessly and with winning results.

Trey had only been inside the restaurant a few minutes when Cecily arrived. As always when she entered a room, men’s heads turned in her direction. Tonight she looked particularly beautiful in a red dress that was just tight enough to showcase her dynamite figure, but not so tight as to be tasteless.

“Darling,” she said as she air-kissed near his cheek. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me long.”

“Not long at all,” he replied. “And our table is ready,” he said as the host nodded at him.

Trey placed a hand in the small of her back as they were led to a table by the front windows of the restaurant. They were coveted tables in the world of power, places to sit and eat where you could see and be seen.

The host took their coats and the minute he departed a waitress appeared with menus and the wine listing. Trey ordered them each a glass of white wine and ordered their meals. As they waited for their food to arrive Trey told her about his meeting with Chad.


“So, it’s really going to happen,” she said, her brown eyes sparkling with not just excitement but that shine of an ambition that resonated deep inside him.

“It’s really going to happen,” he agreed. “The dinner-dance party will be the official kickoff of my campaign. I’ve got to write a rousing speech and then I’ll officially declare my bid for Senate and hope that the money and the support follow.”

“You know it will.” Cecily clapped her hands together and then reached across the table and grasped one of his hands with hers. “I’m so excited for you, so excited for us.” She released his hand and picked up her wineglass.

“You know it’s going to be a crazy ride,” he warned her. “It isn’t just about parties and fun. It’s going to be long days and longer nights, nasty rumors and traveling from city to city, never knowing when or where we’ll see each other again.”

He saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes, there only a moment and then gone. He knew she’d probably expected a proposal, but he just wasn’t ready to take that step right now. He intended to marry only once in his life and he wanted to be absolutely certain when he proposed.

“You know I’m in this for the long run, Trey,” she said softly.

“I know,” he replied somberly. “I just need to get things moving, get plans together in my head. Once we get beyond the dinner party and a press conference to announce my official declaration, we’ll see where things shake out.”

“Of course. I understand,” Cecily replied smoothly as if that quick look of disappointment that he’d seen in her eyes had only been a figment of his imagination. “And whenever you’re not with me, I’ll be working to help achieve our goals.”

Their food was served and for the remainder of the meal Cecily talked about the charity auction she’d attended that afternoon and her plans to immediately begin to form a Women for Winston coalition.

As she talked and they ate, Trey’s mind drifted, first to all the things that would need to be done to achieve his ultimate goals, and secondly to the dinner he would be having the next night at Debra’s.

A business dinner, he reminded himself, a dinner that he’d invited himself to. He should be focused on the beautiful woman across from him, a woman who would add her ambition to his own to see that he reached his goals, followed his duties as his grandfather had wanted for him in public service.

Trey had always been so clear on where he was going and who would be at his side when he arrived there...until that night almost seven weeks ago. That night had somehow thrown him off his personal game, awakened yearnings inside him he hadn’t known he possessed.

He mentally shook himself and focused on Cecily, the woman who was right for him, a woman his grandfather and his mother would have handpicked to be at his side as he traversed through the murky waters of politics.