Iasonos comes in with my salad and Owen’s pa?dakia. Our conversation idles while Nos serves the food.
“Need anything else?” Nos asks.
“No,” I say with a smile. “I’m good.”
“So am I,” Owen says. “Looks delicious. Thank you so much.”
Ever solicitous and sensitive to the private nature of my business back here, Iasonos backs out quickly.
“So you want no contact with Maxim,” Owen says, picking up his fork and the thread of our conversation. “Got it.”
“I want to avoid any awkwardness, and a personal relationship, even former, could prove awkward, but I understand there may be times when we . . . encounter each other.”
“I get it,” Owen says around a steaming bite of food. “I’ll tell him.”
It feels cold, Owen delivering this message to Maxim, but I want as little contact with him as possible.
“The other issue may actually prove more difficult.” I heave a sigh and then dive in. “I don’t think your father should be seen as connected to the campaign at all.”
He looks at me for several seconds before laying down his fork.
“My father first mentioned the presidency to me when I was seven years old, Ms. Hunter. He will not take kindly to being completely cut out.”
“Please, call me Lennix.”
“Lennix,” he says pointedly, “my father is one of the most powerful men in the world. Having his support can only be a good thing.”
“Oh, really? When you’ve distanced yourself from him on half the votes his oil lobbyists pushed?”
“Well—”
“When your brother, whom you just said will be one of your most important surrogates, has been estranged from him for nearly fifteen years based on deeply entrenched philosophical and political differences?”
“True, but—”
“When I have led several protests against him when Cade Energy infringed on restricted tribal property?”
“I know, but—”
“Him speaking for you makes the three of us look like hypocrites.” I lean forward and defy Emily Post to prop my elbows on the table. “And I haven’t been in politics long enough to be okay with looking like I don’t mean what I say.”
“He has connections we could use.”
“Some of them, if uncovered, could lead to unsavory places.” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’ll protest. “I said unsavory, not illegal. We’ve already started digging. Just because something isn’t illegal doesn’t mean the public will like it.”
“You’re saying I should cut my father out altogether?”
“I’m saying if your daddy is pulling any strings, I don’t wanna see them.”
“He’s not pulling my strings,” Owen says, the closest thing to anger I’ve seen showing in his eyes.
“Then this is a moot discussion.”
“Isn’t there some middle ground between him representing the campaign and not being involved at all?”
“I didn’t say he couldn’t be involved at all. I think aligning yourself with him publicly too closely will backfire. I said I don’t want to see the strings, not that he couldn’t work backstage.”
“Let’s get something straight, Ms. Hunter,” he says, pointedly ignoring my invitation to address me informally. “My father is not a ventriloquist and I’m no dummy. You’re running my campaign, but never forget it is my campaign. I understand the differences you have with my father, and that you don’t want anything to do with my brother. I won’t hesitate to put distance between me and either of them if necessary, but I won’t disavow them simply for being who they are.”
His expression softens. “They’re family. We don’t always agree on every single thing, but we support each other and set aside differences when it matters most. I’d say me running for president qualifies as ‘most.’ I hope voters will relate to that.”
Perversely, his pushback solidifies that I do indeed want to work with Owen Cade. I drew my line in the sand and he didn’t move his to satisfy me. If he can be that principled fighting for the causes I care about, I’ll count his victory as ours.
“Senator Cade, I think we can work it out. Let’s lay some ground rules, and take exceptions case by case.” I nod and offer a pleasant smile. “How about dessert? The baklava is divine.”
38
Maxim
“Owen tells me you have a crush on his new campaign manager.”
At my sister-in-law’s words, I stiffen before handing my coat over to the young woman waiting to take it.
“He said what?” I try to play it off with a quick laugh, but Millicent’s no fool. Foolishness is one of the few luxuries Cades can’t actually afford.
“Lennix, right?” Millicent adjusts flowers in the arrangement dominating the foyer of their Georgetown townhouse. “I haven’t met her yet, but I hear she’s brilliant.”
“Well you’ll get to meet the entire team they’ve assembled,” I answer, re-steering the conversation. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? To have the family meet the team?”
“Yes, O thinks it’s important we feel comfortable with the people who’ll play such a big part in our lives for the next eighteen months.” Apparently satisfied with the floral arrangement, she turns to me and slips her arm through the crook of my elbow. “I especially can’t wait to meet your new girlfriend.”
I drop my head back and groan. “I’m gonna kill my brother.”
“It’s just been so long since you liked anyone.” She squeezes my arm. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Mill. Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course we worry. You’re always off risking your life in some godforsaken place, and for what? Algae? Plastic samples?”
“I haven’t been anywhere truly dangerous in a long time.” I smile down at her. “I kind of miss it, and I think you’re oversimplifying complex scientific research that could possibly reverse global warming.”
“Ahh, it must get so heavy.”
“What?”
“The whole planet on those big, broad shoulders of yours.” She widens her eyes innocently. “How will the world keep turning without you and your recycled sports bras?”
“You love those sports bras,” I say, walking her into the dining room. “We can’t keep that racerback in stock, and I think you buy half of them.”
She punches my arm harmlessly, painlessly. “You were supposed to bring me the new one, you big oaf.”
“I’ll have some shipped.” I chuckle and glance at the formally dressed dining room table. “Wow. You really broke out the heavy artillery for this one.”
“It’s important we start with a show of strength,” Mill says, her sweet mouth firming. “They’re all riding the Cade train to the White House. They should see what it means to be one of us.”
Funny. I couldn’t run from my name fast enough, and Mill couldn’t wait to marry into it. She’s completely a Cade. The perfect political wife. Anything about herself and her life before Owen that didn’t fit, she cast off without a second thought.