She waited until they were alone before she continued.
“I prefer that we not speak of these things in front of the help. No, my son is a sweet boy. An honorable man. If he knew, he would call the authorities himself. That said, he has his suspicions. He knows that I have not always been the most”—she paused, searching for the right word—“principled of actors.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Even though he is ashamed of me, there is nothing that I would not do for my son. We do not share a great deal, you and I, but I think in that we are much alike.”
“Ellie’s not ashamed of me.”
“No, she’s not old enough yet for that.”
“Fuck you, lady,” Gibson spat.
Color rose on Calista’s neck and cheeks, but she made no move to respond. She sipped her drink and composed herself.
“My point, Mr. Vaughn, is that, hard as that is for me to admit or to accept, my son is correct to turn his back on me. And if he is to have an opportunity to make an authentic contribution to his country, then the miscalculations of my past must never become public knowledge.”
“‘Miscalculations’? You should have been in advertising.”
Calista pushed through Gibson’s interruption. “I will not permit my son to be tarred with my brush. As you have said, my word means nothing to you. I would not think as highly of you as I do if it did. You might be a vulgar, limited man, but you are a good one too. Far better than most recognize, and I know more than most what that has cost you. I tell you all this so you and I might understand each other. Once Mr. Eskridge has been neutralized, I intend to withdraw from public life. After this one last unprincipled action, I am through. I have no intention of moving against you, your family, or your friends. Not now, not ever. If for no other reason than it would place my son’s career in jeopardy after I moved heaven and earth to protect him. Have I, at long last, made myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“And do you believe me?”
“No,” Gibson said. “Not now, not ever. But we can coexist. I am helping Jenn Charles and George Abe. Not you. As long as their interests continue to align with yours, then we have no problems. Anything happens to them, we will have a serious conversation. And like you said, you better than most know that I have a lot less to lose than you.”
“Good,” Calista said. “I think we understand each other at last.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Reston house smelled cozy and homey when Gibson came in from the garage. He had only picked at his meal at the diner, and the aroma of garlic and olive oil kicked his appetite in the ribs. His ex-wife was a natural, intuitive chef, the catering business she’d started after the divorce a testament to her culinary talent. Dinnertime in the Vaughn household had always been an event.
He slipped off his coat gingerly, wishing Nicole would appear around the corner in her socks and leggings to drag him into the kitchen and taste her work, indulging a tricky memory that he relived far too often. Like any drug, it brought a smaller and smaller high each time, chased by an emotional pit from which he had to climb. Made all the harder tonight, given what he’d put in the mail. It occurred to him that the fire had surely cost Nicole her business. She would have had to abandon it to take Ellie to safety. That killed him. She’d been so proud of what she’d built. One more thing that he’d taken away from her.
“In here,” Jenn called.
Gibson followed her voice back to the kitchen, wincing with each step. He didn’t think any ribs were broken, but Sidhu’s handiwork made breathing a chore. Jenn sat at the counter, typing on her laptop, exactly where he’d left her this morning. No indication that she’d moved, apart from the stack of dirty dishes and pans soaking in the sink. An empty bottle of wine sat beside an empty glass.
“You cook?”
“I’m an adult,” Jenn said. “Of course I cook.”
“So what’s for dinner?”
“Don’t know, what are you making? Besides, the way I heard it, you already ate dinner.”
“You talked to Calista,” he said, using the refrigerator as an excuse not to make eye contact, but the anger in her voice was unmistakable. How much had Calista told Jenn about his day? He really didn’t want to get into it with her about Ogden. They carried on the conversation while he foraged for fixings to make a sandwich.
“Of course I talked to her,” Jenn said without pausing from her typing. “We’re partners. That means we keep each other in the loop.”
“You don’t actually think you can trust her?” Gibson said.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Then why—”
“I trust motives,” Jenn said.
He rolled his eyes. “Did she give you the same bullshit assurances she gave me? About going straight because of her congressman son? Saint Dauplaise?”
“Her son is the real deal.”
“Oh, come on. He’s a Dauplaise.”
“You know what David Dauplaise has to gain by accepting her help? What he sacrificed by turning his back on her? She offered him the keys to the kingdom, and the only string attached was his mother. He still said no. Don’t know how he did it, but somehow he grew up without Calista beating the integrity out of him. And he represents everything that she’s fought for her entire life—he has the pedigree, the ambition, the talent, all wrapped up with a handsome chin dimple.”
“Chin dimple?”
“Like the Grand Canyon. He’s everything Calista thought she had in Benjamin Lombard, only he’s a Dauplaise. So, yeah, I do believe her when she says she needs to tidy up her act and that Eskridge is the end of the line for her.”
“Okay. I just want to be sure you didn’t have a blind spot for her. She may have played straight with you so far, but this is the endgame. Keep in mind how that went for us the last time. Let’s not make the same mistake that George did.”
“Is this going to be a repeat of Pennsylvania?” She meant the operation to find Suzanne Lombard’s kidnapper. At a key moment, Gibson had disobeyed Jenn’s instructions to return to Washington and had gone rogue. It had been a bone of contention between them at the time, and he didn’t like her throwing it in his face after so long.
“And how did that work out, Jenn? Which of us found him first?”
Her typing ceased with a satisfying, staccato clack. Gibson knew better than to push that particular button, but he’d already had his daily lecture from Calista. Instead of apologizing, he finished making his sandwich and cracked open a beer. Jenn held out her hand and snapped her fingers. He passed her the beer and opened another.
“No,” he said, breaking the silence. “It’s nothing like Pennsylvania. I just had to tie up a few things before we step off.”
“‘Step off’?” Jenn rolled her eyes. “Today was your audition. Remember? And you put everything in jeopardy with that stunt tonight. How close did the detective come to seeing you? In what universe but yours would this qualify as a passing grade?”
“The one where I hacked an airport for you. How about that one, huh?”