“Mom,” I said, sitting down opposite her at the desk her assistant, Steven, had coordinated delivery of. “I can handle this. I’m a grown man. A successful one at that. I don’t need Steven to do my work, and I’ll take pictures when I’m ready. I’m here to be with Dad.”
She looked up, her reading glasses balancing on the tip of her patrician nose, her hair perfectly styled into a bob, her now pursed lips painted bright pink. “Ford, don’t tell me how to handle our family business.”
“I’m not. I said I’d handle my business.”
I tried to motion toward the bed with my head, willing my mom to understand he was dying. Her husband was on his deathbed, and she was more concerned with a photo opportunity.
“Quite frankly, I’m surprised at your sudden interest, but I won’t complain. I’ve been telling you to throw your weight into your brother’s interests for a while. Getting involved here will be good for all of you. Maybe Billy will come around and go to some events and stop floozying around with those Hollywood types.”
Clenching my palms under the desk where she couldn’t see, I swallowed back my anger. “I’m just getting involved here, at the hospital, for me. It’s Granddaddy’s legacy. This isn’t about Billy or Scott.”
“Hmmm. We’ll see about that. Remind me, who was it you met with? Do I know them?” Typical Beatrice, back to her agenda. My mom, the ever-busy social climber, had moved on to who she could meet.
“Funny enough, remember little Jamie Silver?” I tried to play the connection down. Mentioning our lunch a few hours ago would set off multiple alarms for my mom.
“Who?” Of course my mom didn’t remember her. How could she? She’d spent all of ten minutes a day with us when we were kids.
“Jamie Silver. She went to school with all of us growing up, and then to university with me. Her mom was the librarian at Stillwell.”
“At Stillwell? I didn’t know the librarian. Was Jamie that chunky girl with the messy hair who hung around, wanting to be like Billy? I think her mom got the job so she could glom onto wealthy DC families.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think you can say that about little kids, Mom. She wasn’t chunky. She didn’t grow up with a chef to prepare healthy meals.” Amazing how the most political woman in the world could be so politically incorrect behind closed doors. “Jamie used to play with Billy and me.”
“Why are you so defensive? Nothing wrong with trying to move up the ranks. That girl always dreamed of being a part of our family. Saucers in her eyes, that chunky monkey.” Whispering the last part, she stared at me, waiting for a reaction, before immediately getting back to her work.
“She’s the head of development. Here. At the hospital.”
Now my mom’s head flew up and she swung off her glasses, a shocked look on her face. “She is? How did she make that happen? Must have been one hell of a promotion for her. Even with a degree from the same place you went. By the way, I wonder how she got in there? I’m sure it was a stretch.”
“She’s a competent person, no saucers in her eyes. She’s worked hard all her life, and she’s here on her own merit from what I gather.”
I stood and walked over to my dad, taking his hand in mine. At first his frail figure had shocked me. He’d been an ominous person at six foot four with sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes… Now he was practically a skeleton.
“Have you kept in touch with her? Did she use your connections to get the job?”
I could see my mom’s brain working overtime, the wheels turning, trying to figure out how someone could become successful on their own merit.
“No, we lost touch. I didn’t know she was the contact person until I decided to get involved.”
One more white lie in my family wasn’t going to hurt; we had cobwebs of them.
“Make sure she doesn’t take credit for this. It was your idea.” With her version of a dismissal, my mom picked up her phone and called Steven, and I turned my focus back to my dad.
I willed my thoughts to him. I hoped for a quick ending, a fast end to the pain, to be a good man like him, and an even better guy like my grandpa. With what felt like his hand squeezing mine, I knew my dad felt my presence and energy. With a quick kiss to his forehead, I walked out of the room without any other words to my mom.
I turned the car off as my phone rang and looked at who was calling.
“Hey, Billy,” I said, answering on the third ring. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Dad’s still hanging on. I needed to ask you something unrelated.”
By default, Billy and I were always closer than either of us with Scott. He loved the political life and we didn’t. He married his college sweetheart, Beth, and had two babies, one after the other, while rising to the Senate. Beth taught second grade, never swore, always smiled, and supported him in his Pennsylvania Avenue ambitions.
“Yeah?” I prompted Billy to go on.
“My agent wants me to beSuper Lady.”
My deep laugh rang through the stilled car. “Does he now?”Super Ladywas mine; my production company bought it last year.
