The Kept Woman (31 page)

"You take care of Sam. Help her get the kids ready and get her to the hotel. Don't leave her side. Would you do that for me?"

"Absolutely."

Jack turned toward Sam, taking her hands in his. "I need to jot down a few thoughts on the way to the hotel. I'll see you there, OK?"

Sam nodded, smiling at him.

"Answer me one question."

"Anything."

"Do you love me, Sam?"

"Oh, Jack. I love you. You will never have reason to doubt that ever again."

"Marguerite?" Jack turned toward his mother, who sat quietly at the desk. "Are you coming with us?"

"You-all go along. I'll have my driver take the rest of us." She rose from the chair and shooed Jack out the door. Then she set her sights on Sam and moved toward her. Marguerite stopped directly in front of Sam and opened her thin arms.

"Would you mind if I gave you a hug, Samantha?"

Sam let out a surprised laugh. "That would be nice."

Sam wrapped her arms around Marguerite. She kissed Jack's mother on the cheek and smiled at her. Marguerite stared back at Sam, looking misty-eyed and a little lost.

"I have two favors to ask of you, if I may be so bold."

"Sure."

"I want you to do my hair. Cut it very short. I'll let my natural silver grow in. I've seen some older women who look quite stylish like that."

Sam nodded, not daring to look over at Monte. "It would be my honor."

"I wonder if you could do it now, before the news conference."

Monte was already out the door and Sam knew she was setting up in the butler's pantry. "We can do that."

"Wonderful. Thank you. And my second favor is, would you permit me to be a doting grandmother to the twins? I would understand if you turned me down. You'd have every right." Marguerite's face twisted with the effort not to cry. "But I'm asking anyway."

Sam smiled. "Absolutely, Marguerite. Of course you can."

Monte poked her head in the office. "The salon is open for business. I'll get the kids ready so we can go have ourselves a news conference that'll go down in history!"

The ballroom of the Marriott was packed with reporters, still and video photographers, and a sea of volunteers. Jack felt a light fluttering in his chest and a spring in his step as he climbed the stairs leading to the stage. He headed toward the podium, thinking that he'd had some great moments behind podiums and some truly awful ones and he wasn't quite sure which this would turn out to be. It didn't matter—the only things that mattered to Jack weren't things at all, and they were coming up the stairs behind him.

Sam held Dakota's hand. Behind them came Greg, Lily, and Marguerite. Kara and Stu were already seated in folding chairs to the back of the stage, and Jack gave a quick salute to Kara. She tried to smile bravely.

Jack placed his note cards on the podium and let the wave of questions hit him face-on. Some were kind, such as that of the woman radio reporter who shouted, "
Did you at least grow to like her?
" Channel 3's Ed Gilligan let it rip with, "
Is it true that Samantha Monroe was a kept woman?
"

Jack figured the quicker he did this the less Sam and the kids would have to face.

"Good evening and thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice." In the split second required for Jack to take a breath, more questions were hurled toward the stage. "I think most of your questions will be answered if you allow me just a few minutes to tell you the truth," he said into the microphone. "I ask you to give me the courtesy of speaking uninterrupted."

An expectant hush spread over the crowd. In all his years in football and politics, Jack had always known that failure had a certain smell to it, and this room was packed with people sniffing for failure and/or blood. So many in this room would like to contribute to taking him down. But he planned to do their work for them.

"It's true. I paid Samantha Monroe to pose as my fiancee. We were never truly engaged to be married."

The crowd went crazy. Some of the reporters ran for the doors, more concerned with being first than with being accurate. Jack had no sympathy for them. He took a moment to glance behind him, and he saw Sam, strong and beautiful and smiling at him. Greg nodded his way. Lily produced a shy grin, and Jack was stunned by how lovely she looked that night sans the hiking boots and eyeliner. Dakota gave Jack a big thumbs-up, and he knew he had all the courage he would ever need and turned back to the mayhem.

"
Do you think we can all act like adults in here?
" Jack's question brought the ruckus to a halt. "This will be brief." He paused, looking down at his notes. "First, I am truly sorry for having lied to you, the citizens of Indiana. What I did was inexcusable. I take full responsibility for my actions and want it to be known that there is no one else that deserves criticism and blame. It was my campaign and my decision. I especially want it to be known that Samantha Monroe did nothing wrong. This was not her idea. I recruited her, negotiated the terms, and paid her to go along with my plan."

"
How much did you pay her?
"

"
Did you have sex with her?
"

Before he could respond to either question, he felt the dais vibrate under his feet and turned to see Lily hurrying Dakota offstage. Greg shook his head in disgust as he followed.

Jack's voice trembled with rage when he spoke again. "Modern politics has become a cesspool of the surreal. It's a game, ladies and gentlemen. And I thought the NFL was ugly—let me tell you, it's nothing compared to campaigning for national office. We are corrupted, each one of us. We've lost sight of what's important here, and that's the simple and profound privilege spelled out in our Constitution—we get to choose who represents us at every level of government. We're lucky sons of bitches."

Someone to the side of the stage—someone who sounded suspiciously like Monte—shouted, "Can somebody give me an amen?"

It was just enough to make Jack smile and catch his breath. "All I'm saying is we are supposed to elect people with brains, integrity, insight, patience, and—most important—heart. We need people in our towns and in Washington who actually care about those they represent, truly know them and care about them. We are not going to make it as a civilization if we focus more on who's got the better tie and which candidate's high-priced marketing consultant came up with the catchiest campaign slogan. We all need to clean up our act."

"
So you're dropping out of the race?
" That question was followed by a low rumble of laughter.

"No, I'm not. I'm running and I'll lose and I don't give a damn." He heard Kara clear her throat behind him. "I mean it. Starting right now, I'm running as Jack Tolliver, a very flawed—but honest—guy. I admit it! No man should be allowed to date as many beautiful women as I have and have such fun doing it. I was a child of privilege, and I've never known what it's like to be hungry or even have to save for a bike or a car or a ski trip. And back in college, honestly, I know damn well I inhaled every time I—"

"Jack!" Kara barked from behind him.

"Anyway, the whole point of this news conference is to respond to Channel Ten's news story, so here it is. Be sure your pencils are sharpened." Jack reached behind him for Sam's hand. She grabbed hold and stood at his side.

The cameras went crazy again and Jack waited a few moments for the noise to settle. He took that time to squeeze Sam's soft fingers in his, and he felt her warmth and love all the way to the soles of his feet.

He turned to Sam, smiled at that open, brave face, and kissed her—hard. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, pressing his lips to hers with such urgency that he feared he might be smothering her. He let her go enough to see the shock and delight in her eyes, then returned his attention to the hooting crowd, his arm still gripped around her waist.

"Life can be funny, ladies and gentlemen. Seems I hired this woman to be a stand-in for the real thing and that's exactly what she ended up being—the real thing. She's determined, courageous, fun, and a gifted artist. She's a great mom to her three kids, and I know she'll be just as wonderful with our twins on the way."

Jack heard a faint whimper escape his mother's lips, just before all hell broke loose. More reporters ran for the doors, and he laughed. "Might want to stick around a few more minutes, Ed!" he called out. "I'm not done yet!"

Jack leaned into the microphone and began to speak softly, realizing this was the most fun he'd had at a news conference in his entire fucking career. "I am still in this race, Indiana. Anyone out there listening, I'm telling you that you can vote for me if you want me in Washington, and I'll work hard for you if you send me, but I have to be honest—I love Sam and her kids more than any job, no matter how important. If I lose this Senate race, then so be it. I will dedicate my life to taking care of the people I love and making their world a better place, even if I do it on a school board or a zoning appeals board or in a neighborhood association. It's all the same work and it will all be for them, because they are what is precious to me."

Jack guided a stunned Sam to the center of the stage, away from the podium, and knelt down on his good knee before her. She'd already started to cry and her smile was shaky, but this was the most perfect moment Jack could imagine.

She touched his shoulder and whispered, "You sure you know what you're doing, Jack?"

He laughed, then pulled the old emerald and diamond ring off her finger. "I sure do," he whispered back. "I'm putting this Ferrari in sixth gear, baby."

Jack glanced over at Marguerite and loved that she'd managed to crack a smile. Well, good for her—maybe there was hope for Grandma yet. Her hair looked better, that was for damn sure.

He surveyed the audience, now a silent sea of openmouthed stares, and decided he'd reward all these patient people with the sound bite they'd been waiting for. Jack adjusted his kneeling pose to make it as Shakespearean as possible, slipped the beautiful old ring on his beautiful young love, and said, "Samantha Monroe, will you do me the honor of really, truly, being my wife?"

"Hell, yes!" Sam hooted with happiness, and threw herself into his arms.

Jack buried his nose in her spicy hair and cried some very public tears, feeling Sam's arms put the squeeze on him. Maybe it was poetic justice that this woman's tight grip was the only thing that had managed to set his heart free, but as he'd learned, some things in life were just a mystery.

Five years later

"You really should try to sex up your image a bit, Jack."

Kara heard him groan, and she knew it was pushy of her to insist they meet during the holiday break, but they needed to hash out the specifics of Jack's reelection campaign. The primary would be a cinch—Jack had the party's backing and his two opponents were nobody goofs with no funding. It was the general election next November that had Kara nervous. Jack's likely opponent was so youthful, gorgeous, brilliant, and rich that Kara had trouble sleeping at night.

"Give it a rest, Kara, babes." Jack raked his long fingers through his dark hair, now tinged with gray that seemed especially noticeable under the breakfast nook chandelier. "I'm a forty-four-year-old father of five, which includes a pair of preschool divas, and I'm afraid this is as sexy as it gets."

Monte shook her closely cropped head and her earrings jingled. "The chicks still dig you, Senator."

After the laughter subsided, Kara listened to what Monte had to say, hardly recalling that there was a time Kara questioned Jack's naming her his press secretary. Monte had gone back to night school to finish her degree while working full-time as Jack's constituent outreach director in his Indianapolis office. She'd learned the ropes and done such an amazing job that Jack had brought her to Washington two years ago, where her nerve and plain-speaking genius seemed to work magic. Kara had to admit that Jack had made a perfect choice.

"Now," Monte went on, "I'm not necessarily sayin' that women are going to sweep you into office with the same tidal wave of support they gave you six years ago, but all our focus groups indicate you're still hot with the ladies."

"I can attest to that." Sam placed a steaming teapot on the table and bent down to kiss Jack's head. He gave her a playful smack on the rear. Kara smiled, knowing that Jack and Sam's real romance—the entire life they'd built together—had turned out better than anything she could have manufactured.

Sam owned a successful Georgetown modern art gallery and had been commissioned by private collectors and corporations to paint several major pieces. She'd been a huge influence on Jack's political life, encouraging him to sponsor domestic violence legislation and a bill to increase federal day-care funding. The irony didn't escape Kara that because Jack was now known as a champion of working women and families, he'd lost some of that dangerous bad-boy edge that got him elected in the first place.

"And I don't care what marketing research says; I'm not dyeing my hair. That would be ridiculous, and, I might add, pathetic." Jack poured himself a fresh cup of tea. "Voters elect people to office, not hairdos."

"But Ryan Watson is—"

"A kid! What can he possibly know about life at thirty-two?" Jack took a sip of his tea. "I was clueless at that age. I didn't learn what life was about until I got married, adopted three children, and had two of my own."

"Watson is married and has a baby," Stuart quietly noted.

"He's a baby himself."

Kara sighed. Jack had taken the "honest-but-flawed-guy" concept and run with it, becoming a standout freshman senator known for his simple talk and passion for his job. Jack split his time between Indiana and Washington and really got out there to mix with constituents. He'd served Indiana well, and Kara was determined to see him stay put, Ryan Watson or no.

Kara heard footsteps and voices nearing the kitchen doorway and turned to watch Lily, Greg, and Simon saunter in. It had been a year since she'd seen what Monte called the Mod Squad, all together in the same room, and it was startling how they'd matured.

Simon was nineteen, a sophomore at Howard University in Maryland, where he was majoring in industrial engineering. He had to be at least six-two, but he still had the same baby face, soft, warm eyes, and sly sense of humor. Monte often said that Simon's happiness was her greatest achievement.

Lily was twenty-year-old and a senior at New York University. She'd studied graphic design and fashion, and she planned to stay in the big, bad city after graduating a year early in the spring, much to Sam and Jack's chagrin. Lily had shot up to five-ten, had a chic, shorter haircut, and was a lot more sparing in her use of eye pencil these days.

Greg was eighteen, a freshman at Northwestern University, where he was a member of their nationally ranked debate team, an especially sweet success for a kid who once had stuttered as bad as Greg had. He planned to attend law school.

Next came Dakota. He was almost nine, a musical prodigy on the electric bass guitar, of all things. He'd been invited to sit in with a few famous rock groups when they came through Washington, and the
Post
had done a feature on Dakota and his own prepubescent garage band, with perhaps the most unfortunate name Kara had ever heard: Sphincter Management. Dakota's red curls were so long they nearly covered his eyes, but not the sparkle in them.

The last—and loudest—addition to the crowd was the Terrible Tolliver Twins. With their arrival, Kara knew for sure this meeting was over.

"She stole my tiara!" Maggie stomped up to the table, glaring at her father. "She's a mean stealer!"

"This is my crown, not hers!" Ana clomped in right behind, attired in a pair of sneakers and one of Lily's old cut-off formals. "Her left hers in the car! It's got gummi bears stuck in the diamonds! I saw it! This one's mine!"

"It's 'she,' not 'her,'" Maggie informed her sister. "You're talking wrong again."

"Lord have mercy," Monte said to Sam. "I thought you'd stockpiled this place with tiaras as a precaution."

"Guess you can never have too many," Sam said, smiling at Monte and then her raven-haired identical twins.

"Shall we discuss this, ladies?" Jack scooted his chair back from the table and opened his arms. Kara sat back, prepared to watch Jack work his daddy voodoo on his high-maintenance daughters, Marguerite and Indiana Dickinson Tolliver. As always, Kara was impressed to see how Jack relied on a combination of tact and charm, this time to get them to agree to share the one non-gummi-bear-encrusted crown in ten-minute intervals.

"Did everyone hear about Christy and Brandon?" Stuart asked.

"Hey! I was going to tell them!" Kara was truly pissed that Stuart beat her to the punch, because they hadn't had any interesting developments in the Christy Schoen fiasco in ages. At first, it seemed there was always a new twist—Christy got fired from Channel Ten for paying a source, a violation of the station's ethics policy; Mitch was charged with nonpayment of child support and narcotics possession and sentenced to probation, giving up his parental rights without a fight; Christy moved from job to job in small-town TV markets until she gave up and reunited with Brandon; Mitch disappeared again, never to be seen since.

Sam frowned, sitting down next to Jack. "I'm not sure I want to know the latest. The last I heard, Christy and Brandon got married and formed a lobbying firm for nuclear power or something."

"It was the strip-mining industry, actually, and they're getting divorced," Stu said. "Apparently, Christy got an offer from a little TV station in Moline, Illinois, and she's taking it, leaving Brandon in D.C."

"Now that's a real shame," Monte said. "If ever two people were made for each other, it was that pair."

"Let's wrap this up, Kara." Jack stood, letting his two daughters slide down his legs like he was an amusement park ride. "We've got some celebrating to do around here. The pizzas should arrive any minute, and that's good, because I'm starved."

Jack began to walk away from the table with the two girls still attached to his ankles. They screamed with delight as he dragged them across the floor toward the great room. Stuart, Greg, Lily, Simon, and Dakota went with him, talking loud and laughing louder, moving at Jack's slow pace.

"I wish Marguerite were still alive to see this," Sam said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Monte touched her shoulder. "She got to see her son make it to the Senate and she got her grandkids, Sam."

Sam nodded. "And she turned out to more of a teddy bear than a dragon lady."

"Who'd've guessed?" Kara shook her head in wonder. Five years ago, Kara was amazed at how Marguerite began to mellow, first when the twins were born and even more so after she married Allen Ditto, admitting that she'd had her eye on him for over a decade.

"Hey, you all know what tonight is, don't you?" Monte wiggled her eyebrows. Kara and Sam stared at her blankly.

"Pizza night?" Kara offered.

Monte scowled. "Friday? Last one of the month? Ring any bells?"

"It's D & D night!" Sam squealed. "Hold that thought!" She ran to the cabinet and got three teacups, poured a little into each, and passed them out. "It's not margaritas, but Jose Cuervo and I don't get along too well anymore."

"We got us some real men to comfort us these days," Monte said, laughing.

Kara knew that statement wasn't meant to hurt her, and it didn't. She'd come to understand that politics was the love of her life and always would be.

And as far as Monte went, everyone was thrilled for her and Roy, who would celebrate their second anniversary in February. Monte claimed Roy's work schedule of two weeks home followed by two weeks on the road made him the ideal husband. "
When he comes home I'm thrilled to see him, and at the end of the two weeks I'm thrilled to see his ass out the door. If this marriage doesn't work, then nobody's will
."

"I realize that none of us are the slightest bit depressed, but let's drink up anyway," Kara said, raising her teacup.

"To happiness," Monte said.

"To love," Sam said.

"To winning in November," Kara said.

The three clinked their cups together and in unison said, "To friends."