Carine. He hadn’t thought about her in so long. She’d obviously made an impression on Dad, negative as it may have been. “I remember.” He laughed. “Boy, the look on Pappy’s face when she argued with him. She was a silly girl.”
Without warning, David’s face turned teary. “She was right about the war, though,” he said, gasping. “It was a dreadful mistake. I was so wrong. And we were all so angry with her for—”
“Dad. Dad. Calm down. That was a long time ago. If you were wrong, so was half the country. In any case, it’s all water under the bridge.”
David nodded, but his eyes were wet as he turned his face away to stare out the large window. Anton kissed his cheek. “Get some rest, Dad,” he said. “You’re going home soon. Focus on that.”
Turning off the lights, Anton motioned William to leave the room with him. “What was all that?” William asked the minute they were in the hallway.
“It’s a long story,” he said. He stood rocking on his heels for a moment and then felt compelled to ask, “Do you . . . you do know that my dad’s the governor, right?”
William looked incredulous. “No, man, I didn’t know, because I live in a cave in Timbuktu. The fact that I have to pass by a gaggle of reporters to come into work every day, must’ve slipped my mind.” He laughed a loud, crackling laugh, scrunching up his shoulders.
Embarrassed, Anton said, “Hey, look, you never know. There are people in this state who don’t know who the president is, okay?”
William put his large hand on Anton’s shoulder. “Listen, Mr. Attorney General, when I said I don’t read, I meant I don’t read novels and stuff. But we Antiguans—we are literate folks. Chalk one up for the Brits, to give the devil his due. I read the dailies every single day, thank you. And I vote.” He looked at Anton in mock insult. “So yes, indeed, I know who my governor is.”
Anton laughed. “Okay. You made your point. I’m sorry I asked.”
But William was on a roll. “You think I’d bring in my sorry black ass to work an extra job if I wasn’t going to be spending it in the executive mansion?”
“William. Don’t you have any other patients to go razz?”
“Tell you what. I’ll stop picking on you if you promise to go down to the cafeteria and fix yourself a good dinner. I’ll call you if your dad needs anything.”
“It’s a deal.” Anton waited until William had walked away a few paces and then called, “Hey, William. You married?”
The man turned around. “Nope.”
Anton nodded. “I can see why not.”
William grinned appreciatively. “Bet you’re good at talking trash on the basketball court, Mr. AG.”
“Soccer’s my game. But you bet.”
They smiled at each other, and then Anton took the elevator down to the cafeteria, replaying the earlier conversation with his father. The fact that David had recalled the name of the book was the sign of a mind that was functioning well. But it had unnerved him to hear David saying that Carine had been right, and the manner in which he’d said it, as if he were apologizing to her across the years. It made Anton feel as if he had wronged her, too.
He sighed. It was ancient history, so long ago that it might as well have happened to someone else, for all the difference it now made. He couldn’t worry about the past, not when there was so much to worry about in the present. He made his way to the hospital cafeteria, picked up a prepackaged box of sushi, paid for it, and dialed Katherine’s number on his way back to the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Anton frowned. The Rolling Stone interview was not going as well as he had hoped. Uncle Connor had assured him that it would be a laudatory piece and had personally attested for the reporter, John Crow, as someone he liked and trusted. But as he faced the gray-haired man sitting across his desk, Anton questioned Connor’s judgment. The questions so far had been tough. Maybe Crow was miffed because Anton had postponed the interview twice, but good God, surely the man understood that his father recently had a heart attack and that Anton was trying to run a statewide office.
But the questions kept coming, and as the minutes ticked by, Anton found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could handle reporters with the same ease as David, who was always quick with a quip or a compliment that seemed to disarm even his toughest media critics. Anton was too cerebral, too flinty, and knowing this about himself was not enough to make him change. Bradley had often joked with him that with his lack of tolerance of fools, he had better never aspire to higher political office. “You would’ve done better in the business world, like me,” Bradley teased. “There, you don’t have to kowtow to reporters and pretend they’re the guardians of democracy. Instead, you can see them for what they are: self-serving, self-righteous bastards.”
But John Crow was neither a fool nor a prick. He was simply dogged in his refusal to allow Anton to change the subject. They had spent the last ten minutes sparring over whether, as AG, Anton should’ve insisted that John Newman take over as acting governor as soon as he found out that David was in the hospital. Instead, over six hours had passed before Johnny was sworn in—a fact that the local media had had a field day reporting for the past couple of weeks.
Crow pushed his reading glasses up his nose, sat back in his chair, and peered out at Anton. “There’s also a rumor that the delay was because you and Connor Stevens were trying to figure out a way for you to step in as governor,” he said. “Care to comment on that?”
Anton let his disdain show. “Do I care to comment on that? No. The accusation is so ridiculous that I will not dignify it with a response.”
“That may come across as an admission of guilt to some.”
“Listen. As you may recall, I was in Washington when my father collapsed. I rushed back to be by his bedside. We didn’t know if he would survive the night, okay?” Without warning, he felt himself choking up. “Hatching some Machiavellian plot was the last thing on my mind. Or do these anonymous critics also think that my father faked his heart attack?”
Crow ran his fingers through his thick gray hair. “This is obviously an emotional issue for you,” he murmured.
“You bet.”
“Yes. Well. Just one more question and then we’ll move on. I’ve read that the minority leader is asking for an investigation of the private plane that brought you home from Washington.”
Anton sighed. “Jack. I’ll tell you exactly what I told my local newspaper. My office is calculating how much the ride would cost any citizen of the state. And we will reimburse the owner of the plane to the full extent. That has been our intention all along.”
“With all due respect, why hasn’t that been done already?”
“Because I’ve been a little tied up.” Anton did not bother hiding his irritation.
Crow smiled faintly. “Touché. Let’s move on to more pleasant topics. How goes it with the lovely Miss Katherine Banks?”
Anton bit down the urge to say, “None of your business.” Instead, he smiled back and said, “It goes well.”
“So is this it? Is the most eligible bachelor in the state spoken for, at long last?”