“That bull was light in the loafers,” he said.
“Ned. What are you doing right now?” I kept my voice low. “We’re not going to come back to you.”
“How ’bout a compromise?”
He pointed at the coffeemaker, meaning Give me a cup. I turned, feeling cold, and started to pour one. It was better than looking at him.
“I propose this, darlin’. Some photo shoots, interviews. Couple appearances. Then y’all can take a vacation. I’ll only need you now and then. It doesn’t have to be 24-7, if we manage it right. Anchorage is a big enough city.”
“But I don’t want to support your campaign, Ned.” I handed him the cup. “I don’t like what you stand for.”
“We may have policy differences here or there,” he said, shrugging, and sipped. “Now, that’s just foul.”
“It’s really not good,” I agreed.
He set down the bad coffee on the storybook. It slopped out and made a ring; I grabbed the book and wiped it.
“Bottom line is, we’re family.”
“As it turns out, that’s not my bottom line at all.”
Then Lena was out of the bathroom again, looking at us expectantly.
“Why don’t you go play, sweetie?” he said, barely glancing her way. “Let the grownups talk.”
“She doesn’t play outside by herself,” I said. “The motel’s on the edge of a cliff.”
He slipped his phone from a coat pocket.
“My driver can babysit.”
“No thanks,” I said firmly. “We don’t know him.”
“Hello?”
It was Don, knocking at the cracked-open door with perfect timing.
“Come in!” I said, relieved.
He stepped inside, nodded curtly at Ned without smiles or introductions, and held his hand out to Lena.
“I’ve got a job for you,” he said. “You want to help me?”
“I’m the assistant!” crowed Lena.
And Don towed her efficiently out of the room.
I was so grateful to see her go that I felt my shoulders unclench.
“Look, I’m not asking you to give any stump speeches, honeypie,” said Ned, stretching out a hand and pushing the door closed behind them. “You don’t have to say a word. You can be deaf, dumb and blind. Hell, I like you better that way. Just smile and hold my hand sometimes. And get the girl to do the same. You soldier through till the election, smiling all the time, I’ll give you a friendly, neat divorce as your very own victory gift. Plus full custody. With visitation rights, of course. Couldn’t be looking like a deadbeat dad.”
“And you’d actually put that in writing. Before the fact.”
“All official. With confidentiality agreements on the timing and conditions there, of course.”
“Even if you lose? You’d sign off beforehand on it, no matter how the election goes?”
“I won’t lose. Not with the friends I have and your two pretty faces beside me. But sure, I’ll sign.”
“Because I know you want more than the state senate. Won’t you want a wife and kid when you run for something bigger, too?”
“I’ll cross that bridge. Let me worry.”
I was asking questions, but I wasn’t seriously considering the request.
“Don’t you think I could get sole custody now?” I said. “I mean Ned. You’ve come to one of her birthday parties. Ever. And that was by accident, if I remember correctly.”
“You might could get custody,” said Ned, and smiled again. “But maybe not. Running off like you did.”
“You wouldn’t want that fight,” I said. “Publicly. You’d never want it. Especially not now.”
“You’d be amazed how I can spin things, when I need to. I might decide to play the victim. People do love their victims, in America.”
We gazed at each other across the room. That is, I looked past Ned, not wanting to look at him, so I don’t know if he really looked at me either. I tried to remember another time he’d been so direct, and all I could come up with was when he asked me to get married. It had been at a restaurant with white tablecloths and obsequious waiters—he likes being served by such waiters and I hate it. When waiters are too fawning I hear the falseness they’ve brought to it, possible snide remarks in the kitchen.
Now he was relaxed in the chair, facing me, while I was in a defensive posture, backed up against the counter of our kitchenette as far from him as I could be. My hands were braced against the edge.
“I need time to think,” I said. “And while I think, I need you to not be here. And not spend time with Lena, either.”
He shrugged. “The clock’s ticking.”
“Why? Isn’t the election a whole year away?”
“Primary’s in August. My party controls the governor’s office and the House; the Senate’s a 10–10 split, but with redistricting we could take over there too, come November. We’ve been low-key till now, but it’s time for a higher gear.”
“You’re not going to start campaigning before Christmas, are you?”
He picked up Lena’s Lucky Duck from where it lay, studied it for a few moments, and then dropped it.