24. Smart Girl

24

SMART GIRL

EVANGELINE

“ H ere’s a list of the speaking engagements,” Angie hands me a piece of paper and I skim down the list.

There are rotary clubs, Women’s Chamber of Commerce, and then I see the last organization on the list.

“The Daughters of the American Revolution?” I shake my head. “They sound Republican.”

“They’re not a political organization,” Angie explains. “They’re actually a charity heavily involved in preserving America’s history and patriotism through children’s education.”

“What are the talking points?” I catch Darren’s eye as he passes by, and he doesn’t look happy.

“Just steer clear of mentioning anything pro-choice or gun control and you’ll be fine,” Angie interrupts.

I scrunch up my nose. “You said they’re not Republicans?” I joke while making a note on my paper.

Angie doesn’t miss a beat and I’m sure it’s because she’s used to my sarcasm by now. “Make sure to talk about Dare’s commitment to education and his plans to get more government grants. That should go over really well,” she instructs, and the way she calls him Dare, just grates on my nerves.

“Sounds easier said than done,” I explain, trying to focus.

“Do you need me to write up a speech?” she looks up from her computer. “I was quite good on the debate team.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“I hated my public speaking classes in college, but the more I did it the easier it got.”

“I can relate, but unfortunately, I never got to the part where it got easier.”

“Oh well, you did really well at the press conference.”

I purse my lips trying not to take offense to that when I hear a bang come from Darren’s office.

“I should probably check on him,” Angie tries to stand but I stop her.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well, you don’t know Dare. When he gets in a mood, we all end up paying for it,” she explains, and I blanch.

“I don’t know my own husband?”

“Oh my gosh, no! I just meant at work. That’s all.” She brushes me off. “You’re lucky, you don’t have to worry about any of that now,” she says flippantly.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant that you don’t have to worry about working,” she offers.

“Oh, I see what you’re saying.” I tap the pen to my lips. “Since I’m married to Darren,” I finish for her. “Well, you should remember that.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“I’m sorry, that’s not—” she starts to say but I interrupt her.

“I’m sure you’re a smart girl or Darren wouldn’t have hired you and Rausch wouldn’t put up with you, but someone with your education should know better than to flirt with a married man,” I say coolly. “Especially one that’s running for congress.”

“Evan,” she gives a nervous laugh as if she thinks I’m joking. “I don’t know what you think…”

“It’s Mrs. Walker, and I think you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“You have the wrong idea. Darren and I just work really well together. There’s nothing going on,” she explains with a bit of arrogance.

“Oh, I know there’s nothing going on.” I can’t help but let out a small condescending laugh. “Working to help get Darren elected is a privilege, one that you shouldn’t take advantage of. And if you really want Darren to win, then you should remember that.”

She closes her mouth and at least I see remorse on her face.

“Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Mrs. Walker,” she says.

A commotion in the office gets my attention and it looks as though there’s a gathering outside the office.

I grab Ethel as she passes by. “What’s going on?”

“The campaign ad started running during prime time,” she says with a giddy smile. “Right between Jeopardy and America’s Funniest Home Videos,” she adds.

“I’m not tracking,” I say. “What’s with the gawkers?”

One of the volunteers cues up the ad on the tv screen. Darren appears in frame, his hair messy from the wind and his shirt collar unbuttoned, sans tie. He doesn’t look like a politician as he strides down the street talking about his commitment and belief in the community. When he smiles into the camera at the end, I begin to understand.

“What in the hell?” Rausch pushes through the crowd, straightening his tie as if he’d just been accosted by a mob. “What are all these women doing on the street?”

“Well, they ain’t here for you,” Ethel says with a hand on her hip, raising her eyebrow.

Rausch ignores her and then looks up at the tv screen. “Is that the ad?” He squints and then his eyes go wide. Before I can say anything, he yells, “Darren, Jesus Christ!”

“I like the ad,” I say, shrugging. “And it looks like half the town’s single women do too,” I giggle. “Oh, and a few married ones too.” I laugh.

“You bellowed?” Darren appears with a scowl on his face.

“What the hell is that?” Rausch motions to the tv screen.

“That there is what you call a thirst trap,” Ethel answers for him.

Rausch just blinks at her.

“Do you need me to explain what a…” Ethel starts to say.

“I know what a… Jesus, is this a frat house or a campaign office?” Rausch asks.

“You don’t like it?” Darren inquires with a bit of the old playboy attitude he used to have.

“It looks more like you’re selling cologne than a political advertisement.”

“See, thirst trap,” Ethel interjects.

“Don’t you have things to do?”

Ethel raises an eyebrow and gives me a smile.

“Then you should have been here, but you bailed on me,” Darren interjects, his voice sounding more clipped than usual.

Darren studies him like he’s trying to decipher something in the lines in his face. Rausch looks back at him, annoyed, but then his expression changes and the air between them becomes thick. I touch Darren’s arm.

“The ad felt stiff,” Darren finally says, his words cutting across the space between them.

“He was walking like he had a stick up his ass.” Ethel pipes up and Darren shakes his head at her.

“What I mean is that the voters aren’t going to respond to someone…”

“Who has a stick up their ass?” Ethel asks, feigning innocence.

“Ethel,” he warns.

“I know when I’m not wanted.” And Ethel walks back over to her desk.

Before Rausch can respond, Darren’s gone.

Rausch clears his throat and then gestures to the window. “Do something about that.” I grab my purse from Angie’s desk and run after Darren. I don’t get very far down the block when I bump into someone exiting one of the stores.

“So sorry,” I exclaim, grabbing onto her arm to steady her.

“You’re Evangeline Walker,” she says, surprised as she looks me up and down. She’s a young woman, probably only a few years older than me, with brown hair pulled back with a clip.

“Yes,” I answer cautiously.

“I’ve been meaning to come see you, but it’s been so busy here.” She locks up the door behind her. “My mom owns the shop but she’s been in the hospital, so I’ve taken over.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not serious. I wanted to thank you,” she surprises me by saying.

I shake my head in confusion.

“Ethan from Rustic Charm Designs said you wanted to buy local. He’s been in a few times.” She motions to her shop.

“And Henry said you had donated some stuff to his place.” She hooks her thumb down the block where Henry’s Hand Me Downs is.

“I’m so glad,” I exclaim. “But I can’t take credit for that. Admittedly, I’ve been so busy with everything,” I motion to the campaign office. “That I’ve let Ethan run the show,” I laugh nervously.

“It means a lot to the town,” she says with sincerity. “And I just wanted to say how much I admire you.”

To say I’m taken aback is an understatement.

“I watched the press conference and that took real courage.” She reaches out to take my hand. “I’m Maddie, by the way,” she introduces herself.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I shake her hand.

“I know some folks in town might be a bit old fashioned , but what you said about taking care of your grandmother, it just hit home, especially with my mom’s surgery. It’s so expensive and I know it’s not the same thing, but I’d do anything for her, ya know?” She smiles. “Well, anyway, I’m happy I ran into you,” she remarks. “If you have any signs I can place in the window I’d be happy to. I know Henry would, too, and a few of the other shop owners.”

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I hold up a finger for her to wait.

“Yes, can you hold on one minute?” I ask, and then hold my hand over the phone.

“The office is still open. If you want to head on in and ask for Ethel, she’ll give you some signs,” I offer.

“Will do, so nice to meet you,” Maddie smiles and then heads over to the campaign office.

“I’m back, sorry about that,” I apologize.

“Hello, this is Lucy, I represent Finn McCarthy. I advised Finn not to do the charity,” she says and my heart sinks.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well, Finn rarely listens to me anyway, which is why he gets himself into trouble. His reputation could use an overhaul, I just didn’t think this particular charity was going to accomplish that, considering…” she leaves the sentence hanging.

“Yes well, the Abigail Pershing Foundation helps battered women, and the money from the auction would help us open another safe house,” I try to explain.

“I know all of that already, but it’s not always about the charity itself but the people who run it.”

“I see.” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice.

“Finn will be in New York that weekend for some press, and he’d like to attend the charity personally,” she explains.

“Well, that’s wonderful. I can email you the details and send a ticket for him.”

“Excellent, have a good day.” And the phone goes dead.