A Shade of Difference (41 page)

But, she told herself with great self-control, she must remember Ted’s purposes and the larger outlook and not let herself be distracted by emotional reactions. When you were engaged in great enterprises you could not afford to let yourself balk at some of the people you had to deal with. It was best to forget all that, if you could, and remember the ultimate objective. She took several deep breaths and decided to review the rather strange call she had received a few moments ago from Bob Leffingwell.

The gist of it, she felt, had been symbolized by the uncomfortable way in which he had circled around Fred Van Ackerman’s idea. He had made it clear that he thought somebody should do it, but he had also made it very definite that he thought it would be a grave mistake if the Senator from Wyoming did. He had talked rather vaguely about “Fred’s plans to try to take Ted and everybody else into camp with COMFORT,” without being too specific about it, and had concluded with a mild objection to “reports I hear that you’re about to take
me
into Ted’s camp.”

“Surely you don’t object to that,” she had said lightly, but with a definite little flare of anxiety about the answer, because it would be quite disappointing if he didn’t fall in with her plans for Ted’s campaign.

He had laughed, a little uncomfortably, and said, “That all depends on the President, doesn’t it?”

“How long do we have to wait on
that
unknown quantity?” she demanded, and he had revealed his own feelings by agreeing, “Yes, I know, it does create problems, doesn’t it?”

“Assuming
that’s
decided the way we all hope, then can we count on you?”

He had laughed evasively and replied, “Suppose we wait until it is.”

But there had been something in his tone that made her tell herself as she put down the phone, Very well, my boy,
you
can be had, and that’s for sure. It had been a great relief, really, because he was such a good public servant and such a darling of certain groups in the country that were quite vital to a well-mounted Presidential campaign. His adherence would give Ted’s campaign organization a style and
élan
that it would otherwise lack. Not that he needed to go out of his way to get those groups, of course—they were such suckers for a cause anyway—but there was no doubt Bob Leffingwell would contribute something that few others could contribute. Particularly now that he was, you might say, chastened and humbled—and vulnerable—as a result of the fire he had lately passed through in the Senate. Patsy was not above applying the same screws Fred Van Ackerman had tried to, if the necessity arose. Bob Leffingwell six months ago would have been too intractable to have in a position of power in Ted’s campaign. Bob Leffingwell now was not that kind of problem.

So that was all right. That left her husband, suddenly venturing into dangerous waters at the UN, and her pending luncheon guest. Patsy was baffled by Felix, not the first time this had happened in their life together, but now of an urgency and concern it had never been before because it too was threatening to impinge directly upon Ted’s ambitions.

It was a ticklish matter, this business of having the brother-in-law of a potential candidate for President suddenly blossoming out as a front man of opposition to the United States. Patsy could accept it, partially, on the ground that it, too, was an appeal to the colored races, both foreign and domestic, along the same lines as the Foundation’s luncheon for the M’Bulu in Charleston; but she wondered how much further it could go before it approached the point where the backlash of reaction from the country would begin to affect Ted. Of course the country had not really had time to react yet. It was still in a state of shock over yesterday’s UN developments, and nobody knew what the final reaction would be.

She decided that she would leave this to Ted to decide. She had never known his political instinct to fail him yet, and so far he had voiced no protest either direct or indirect to her or to his brother-in-law. No doubt if he came to the conclusion that Felix’s activities were jeopardizing his position he would take steps to stop him, both in direct confrontation and with pressures the family could bring to bear through certain channels in Panama. At the moment he had apparently decided to let it ride. So she would do the same, though with a determination to continue her probing of Felix’s motivations. They were certainly unclear to her at the moment.

At any rate, what she had to suggest to Sue-Dan might very well prove the antidote. It might be just the thing to let them all have their cake and eat it, too. Felix could make his gesture at the UN, the Jasons and their friends would make their gesture in Washington, and everybody concerned would emerge with enhanced political prestige among the Negroes, whose vote was so necessary to carry the big cities and the big states in a presidential campaign. Like Bob Leffingwell, she too regretted that it had been given to Fred Van Ackerman to have the idea, and she was as determined as Bob to keep that element away from Ted’s campaign; but, as far as she was concerned, that was Fred’s problem. He could look to himself. The Jasons owed him nothing and they certainly didn’t need him. The simplest way was to appropriate his idea and have done with it. Upon the means for doing this she now concentrated, as Grayson brought the car to a halt and went to the door to escort Sue-Dan to her side.

“You look BEAUTIFUL, Sue-Dan,” she said with great warmth, suppressing a start of dismay at the sheath of sheer red silk, the elbow-length red gloves, the enormous red hat that set off the clever little fox-face and the wide, sardonic eyes. They wouldn’t be overlooked at City Tavern; Sue-Dan had made sure of that. Patsy’s annoyance flared again, but she suppressed it. “How ever did you think of such a STUNNING outfit?”

“It just came to me,” Sue-Dan said as she got in. “I thought it would be nice to eat in, at the Hot Shoppe. You’re looking beautiful, too—Patsy.”

“
I
told you the City Tavern,” Patsy said, trying not to sound sharp. “Not the Hot Shoppe.” Her guest’s eyes widened.

“Oh,
did
you?” She gave a pleased smile. “Now, I think that will be really nice.”

“I hope so,” Patsy said stiffly as Grayson steered into Sixteenth Street and started back down toward the gracious club in Georgetown. God knew what the reaction would be when they arrived, but whatever it was, there was nothing to do now but brazen it out. She had intended to do so anyway, but not under quite such flamboyant circumstances. She had hoped it would be done quietly, not in this screaming, garish getup, which she knew, had been deliberately selected to embarrass her.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she said hurriedly, lest her annoyance get the better of her. “I’ve wanted for so long to really get to know you, since our family fortunes, you might say, are so intermingled.”

“Yes,” Sue-Dan agreed politely. “You might say that.”

“My brother, you know,” Patsy explained, and cursed herself for explaining, “and your husband, and the Senate, and all.”

“Yes, Cullee may try it,” Sue-Dan agreed placidly, staring out the window at the racing brown leaves that skittered across the streets as they rode along. “I expect your brother would like his help.”

“I think it would be mutual,” Patsy snapped. Her guest smiled, wide-eyed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” she said judiciously, without commenting one way or the other. “It might.”

“I think so,” Patsy said coldly. Her tone became more confidential and amused. “What do you do with yourself here in Washington—between campaigns, I mean? Sew with the other Congressional ladies and attend teas, or what? Doesn’t that life ever get boring for you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Sue-Dan said casually. “Mostly I picket schools and sit in at lunch counters and try to get in places where they don’t want me.” She gave a little offhand laugh. “You know how it is.”

Patsy flushed and suddenly dropped all pretense.

“All right, Sue-Dan, if you want to be nasty, you go ahead and be nasty. But you’re my guest for lunch and I expect you to behave decently while you’re with me, do you understand? I don’t want you to give me Eliza crossing the ice all the time we’re together, okay? I’ve had enough of professional insolence in my day, and I’m not taking any more of it from you. Is that clear enough?”

For a moment they stared at one another with unconcealed hostility, until Sue-Dan broke it with a tone as sharp as her own.

“Me and my people have had about enough professional tolerance, too, Patsy, so
you
can stop that. Maybe Cullee needs your brother, maybe your brother needs him. I guess your brother needs most, or you wouldn’t have invited me to lunch. Now, what is it you want?”

“It isn’t just my brother right now,” Patsy said more calmly, as the car neared the Tavern and she noted the limousine of the Senate Majority Leader, occupied by his wife and Beth Knox, and several other familiar cars in the line approaching the door. “It’s this business with Terry up at the UN that ties in with it. There’s something Cullee can do about it, if he will, that would help us all.”

“Behind your husband’s back?” Sue-Dan asked in frank surprise. “What does he think about that?”

“He doesn’t know about it yet, and he isn’t going to know about it until it’s decided. All right?”

“All right,” Sue-Dan agreed, “but it seems funny to me.”

Let it, was what Patsy thought, but she only said, “I’ll tell you about it while we eat. Come along.”

She was aware of a little stir of surprise and commotion as they crossed the threshold and stepped into the lounge, filled with briskly talking ladies and their guests. She could see Beth Knox and Dolly Munson staring—well,
let
them; Ted would wipe that skeptical little smile from Beth’s eyes before he finished with Orrin; and as for Dolly, who did she think
she
was: just a cheap millionairess who certainly wasn’t in the Jasons’ league—and with an imperious air she bore down upon the startled hostess.

“Two for Señora Labaiya,” she said grandly. “I called yesterday.”

“Yes,” the hostess said, starting to stammer, “but—but—”

Patsy’s hand closed on the hostess’ arm so tightly that she winced.

“Listen to me,” she hissed. “We are NOT going to have a scandal in this club. We are NOT going to have it in all the papers and all over the world that you wouldn’t serve the Ambassadress of Panama and her guest, the wife of a United States Representative. Now take me to my table right
now,
do you understand me—right
now!”

“Yes, Señora,” the hostess said, looking terribly flustered and as though she might burst into tears. “Yes, of course.”

“Well, well,” Beth murmured to Dolly. “Life gets more and more interesting every day.”

“So Bob tells me,” Dolly said. “Sometimes I find I believe him.”

“Now,” the President said comfortably, pushing aside the tray, emptied of sandwiches and milk, “tell us all about the situation up there as it looks to you. You’ve been taking quite an active part, I understand.”

“I want to explain that to you, Mr. President,” LeGage Shelby said with an air of confidence he did not entirely feel.

“Please do,” the President said politely, and Orrin Knox congratulated him silently for exactly the right tone of gracious intimidation the interview required.

“If you mean the demonstrations by DEFY,” LeGage said with a disarming if rather nervous smile, “my people seemed to want them, and I feel that—well, I feel that it’s a legitimate activity for the organization to undertake, under the circumstances.”

“Even though it of course is interpreted around the world as being critical of your own government,” the President suggested gently. The chairman of DEFY looked defiant but thought better of it.

“I think American citizens have a right to express their opinion, Mr. President,” he said respectfully. “Isn’t that so?”

“Oh, that’s so. I’m not attempting to challenge that, certainly. I wonder a little sometimes, though, whether it might not be better for all of us in the long run if now and then we exercised a little restraint about it. It might look better in the eyes of the nations.”

“Nobody expressed much restraint in Charleston,” LeGage said with a sudden sharp intonation. The President nodded.

“No, I grant you that. But if you think I approved, or am happy about it, or am pleased at any time about the way the whole matter is progressing, then I think you do me an injustice. I’m doing what I can. Your government,” he added with a deliberate emphasis, “is doing what it can. It isn’t as though nobody’s trying, LeGage.”

“No,” LeGage said, but grudgingly. “I guess not.”

“What really happened, down there in Charleston?” Orrin asked suddenly. “Where did Terry get his advice on what to do? From you, or from Felix?”

A veiled expression briefly clouded the eyes of the chairman of DEFY, but a candid smile succeeded it at once.

“That Terry doesn’t need anybody to tell him anything. He’s so full of ideas he’s buzzing.”

“I wish he’d buzz in some other beehive,” the Secretary said, and they all laughed. “So it was just sheer coincidence that he thought of how to attack us in the most damaging possible way at our most vulnerable point. You had nothing to do with it.”

“It was his idea,” LeGage said solemnly. “I swear it.”

“What came after was your department, is that it?”

“We did what seemed to be our duty,” LeGage said, with the sudden sharp edge in his voice again.

“What do you tell the African delegates about our position when you talk to them?” the President asked. “And how do they receive it? I’ve been curious about that.”

“They’re kind of edgy with me,” LeGage admitted, “and I am with them. They don’t ever forget I represent the United States.”

“How do you represent the United States?” the President asked mildly. “That’s what I’m really interested in.”

LeGage smiled without particular amusement.

“Oh, is that it Mr. President? I see. Have I been letting you down?”

“You’d know more about that than I would,” the President said with an air of fatherly blandness. The chairman of DEFY looked annoyed, then shook his head with a laugh.