“It was. They totally screwed us.” Veronica flipped the paper over so she couldn’t look at it anymore. Lewis-Yin’s Lavish Lifestyle: Living Large as Polling Plummets. The article was ridiculous, using barely any of the thoughtful quotes Diane had provided, and contorting the facts to make it seem as though she had given up on the idea of winning after the latest polls and was squandering her remaining campaign money on extravagant outings for her family.
“Emerson donated the use of the Tearoom for the photo shoot!” Veronica lamented, dropping her head into her arms. “And the polling numbers aren’t even down that much! A lousy point. Although it’s probably more after this. I swear, I could strangle Franklin Gibson with my bare hands.”
Bill gave her a sympathetic smile, scraping the eggs onto his own plate before dropping into the chair next to her and rubbing her back. “I’m really sorry, honey.” Beside him, Millie babbled in her high chair, happily rubbing eggs into her hair. “Millie, baby, we eat with our mouths, not our hair,” he said, tapping the messy plastic tray with his finger.
“Ha!” Millie exclaimed, offering her daddy a gummy grin.
Veronica smiled in spite of herself. “I think she’s trying to say hair.”
“Are you saying hair, Millie? Have you learned another new word? Are you a precious little genius? I think you are, yes I do,” Bill said in baby-speak, making his voice high and cartoonish.
“Ha, Daddy!” Millie squealed again, picking up another handful of eggs and smashing them into her ear.
Veronica watched Bill as he tried to convince Millie to eat her food instead of accessorize with it, exaggerating his own motions as he shoveled bites of his breakfast into his mouth. “See how Daddy eats with his mouth? See how my teeth go chomp chomp chomp? Can you go chomp chomp, Millie?”
“Bill?”
“Hmm?” he said absently, still focused on their daughter. “I’m going to have to give you another bath before school, aren’t I?” he muttered despairingly as Millie smeared eggs into her lap.
“Am I insane, to think we can still win?”
He shook his head. “You’re absolutely not insane. We’ve known since the beginning that coverage from the Gazette wasn’t going to be fair, considering how much money Gibson funnels into that business. I mean, I don’t think anyone was prepared for just how bad it would get, but we were never expecting them to be in our corner. Yet Diane’s numbers have been pretty good, all things considered.”
“He’s got more money, though. And it’s getting worse.”
“I know, but I just don’t think—” Bill distracted himself by looking at Millie, then groaned. “Baby girl, did you really just stuff eggs in your diaper?”
“Poop!” Millie hollered in glee.
“You just don’t think . . . ?” Veronica prompted.
Bill pivoted in his seat to face her, taking her hand on the table. “In a small town like Stone Lake, with a candidate like Diane, I just don’t think we can know which way it’s going to go, even with all his money and influence. She may inspire people to vote who don’t typically care about local elections.”
“On both sides,” Veronica pointed out. “You know how awful people can be.”
“Maybe they’ll surprise you. When they hear what Diane has to say, how can they not root for her?”
She loved her husband more than anything, but some days, she just wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him. His relentless optimism was one of the things that made him so good at his job—teenagers needed someone to believe in them, and Bill wore his belief like a finely tailored suit—but sometimes it was maddening that they saw the world so differently.
It wasn’t entirely his fault. Good grades, good looks, and a wealthy family had ensured that every door in Bill’s life had swung wide open for him—until he met Veronica, the poor girl with no parents, no money, and an overeager uterus.
The Warrens were sure that Veronica had gotten pregnant on purpose, in order to trap Bill into marriage. They hadn’t even bothered to come to the wedding. They told Bill it was because their family had been hit with a bout of flu, but Veronica knew better.
Not that she was surprised. She knew their type, and they would never approve of hers. Veronica always had to shoulder her way through every door herself, throwing her full weight against it until it began to budge, an inch at a time.
Which was why she couldn’t take anything for granted, especially with the election only a few weeks away.
“The debate is in five days, Bill. This profile was supposed to give us a bump going into it. Now . . . I just don’t know what we’re going to do. Which is a problem, since it’s my job to know what to do.”
Bill put an arm around her, rubbing gentle circles into her back. “Is there anything I can do?”
She gave him a weak smile, then gestured at Millie, who by this point seemed more egg than baby. “De-egg our child? I’ll figure out this other stuff. I just needed to freak out about it for a little bit.”
“I’m always here for freak-outs,” Bill said, planting a kiss on the top of her head before turning to the baby and wrinkling his nose. “Good grief, child; it’s a good thing you’re cute.”
Veronica took a deep breath as Bill scooped Millie out of her chair and swept her into the bathroom. Her stomach still churned uncomfortably, and the sight of smashed egg all over Millie’s high chair was doing nothing to help. She dropped her eyes back to the paper, focusing on her breathing as she spun through ideas for the day.
In. Maybe Bill was right, and more people could see through the blatant misinformation in the paper than she thought.
Out. But she had to prepare for the worst. The gap between Gibson and Diane hadn’t been much, but was probably wider now. Would the debate be enough to make up the difference?
In. They’d just have to prepare more. And get the word out. Make sure people showed up. People who may be receptive to what Diane had to say. People who . . . who . . .
Out. Really needed to throw up.
She barely made it to the sink before retching up her morning coffee. As she leaned over the breakfast dishes, rinsing her mouth with handfuls of running water, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door. Veronica closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself for yet another unexpected problem. People didn’t knock on doors unannounced at six thirty in the morning just to say hello.
The second she opened the front door, her day got worse.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed under her breath at Kenny Gibson, standing in full uniform on her front porch. She hurriedly shut the door behind her, hoping Bill hadn’t heard it open over the sound of the bathtub faucet and Millie’s squeals.
“Hey, Ronnie,” he said. His lake-blue eyes scanned her approvingly. “How’s the family?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want, Kenny? Cornering me in parking lots is one thing, but this is my home.”
He ran a hand through his straw-colored hair. “I need to talk to you about the campaign.”
“I thought you said the campaign had nothing to do with you.”