She rattles off my schedule for the day as I set up my laptop. I’m not fully processing information yet, which is why she also sends a copy of the schedule to my work phone for my reference, and lays a paper copy on my desk.
This is our routine for days when I start off here in the office.
“And this is your two-week reminder that you’re flying to DC for the NGA meeting,” she says.
I hear the record screech in my brain, so loudly that I’m sure Casey and Declan can hear it, too.
“I thought I was driving?” I say, even though I know no, I wasn’t.
I’d told her I wanted to drive, and she’d said no and moved on.
Still, I stubbornly want to die on this hill.
I despise flying now. Since my return, I’ve flown less than fifteen times, and never without Casey, or without a Xanaxin me.
She can’t go with me this trip, though—Declan’s accompanying me. The National Governors Association has two large meetings a year, and the winter one’s in DC.
“AndItoldyou, I’mnotletting you make a twelve-hour drive when you can fly in ninety minutes,” Casey says. “Even if you pay out of your own pocket, I can’t justify that expense and waste of time. Besides, we’d have to send securitywith you for a road-trip that long. Not doing it. You’re flying with Declan. End of story.”
I stare at her, and she stares back.
I blink first.
Shit.
It doesn’t help that I really don’twantto go to the NGA meeting, not only because I’m the keynote speaker, but because it’s the weekend after Valentine’s Day.
I spent last Valentine’s Day in a Xanax haze in bed, with Casey at the house withme, working from there that day and running interference for me while Declan ran the office, telling everyone I was sick with food poisoning.
“We also need to finish your keynote speech for that,” Casey says. She glances at Declan. “You’re on top of that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” With that out of the way, and with Declan rejoining us, they quickly prep me for the meeting this morning before movingon to the next topic.
“I’ve got Director Rudolph on standby this morning, to come in after you’re finished with the budget meeting. He requested facetime with you.”
I inwardly groan. Our TEMA director is good at his job, but Paul Rudolph’s also an anal-retentive, passive-aggressive, overly cautious pain in my ass. “Why can’t we do this over the phone?” At least then I can put him on speaker,mute it, and multi-task, usually with Casey or Declan standing there and monitoring the situation for me.
Case gives methatsmirk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was a full-on sadist deliberately enjoying my misery. “All the rain lately. He wants to go over some contingencies with you, and he’s bringing Commissioner Turner in with him.”
My inward groan becomes an out-loud one as Case’ssmirk turns into a full-on grin.
“What the heck did I do wrong this weekend?” I grumble. “I didn’t break any mirrors or kick any black cats. Haven’t I suffered enough?”
TDOT Commissioner Raylene Turner and I have butted heads more than once, both before and after I became governor. She’s a holdover from Dick Cailey’s tenure. When I was sworn in, I decided we’d had enough upheaval and wantedto focus on my agenda. I only made two immediate changes, both of them long-term political appointees who’d skated by every time we got a new governor. Everyone else, I was letting prove their worth before making a decision.
But Raylene Turner is an old Southern Belle who holds an engineering degree from MIT. She is qualified for the job, because I’m old-fashioned in that I think if you’re responsiblefor roads, bridges, and other infrastructure like that, maybe you should have an engineering degree with a heavy focus on transportation-related topics.
Yes, that was sarcasm.
She and I frequently disagree about what path to take to a particular destination, even if we agree on the desired outcome. It also feels like sometimes she argues with me just to argue. Like she has a chip on her shoulderand expects automatic pushback from me even when there isn’t any. I understand she’s probably spent her life trying to make herself heard and taken seriously over lesser qualified men, but that’s not a problem she has with me if she’d just let me getonegoddamned sentence out at a time without trying to talk over me.
“I’ve told them it’ll be your lunchtime, so you can eat while you’re talkingto them.” Her smile fades. “I’ve already let them run some basics past Dec.” She nods to him and I shift my focus.
He’s a different man now than the one who sat at my kitchen table yesterday. He’s dressed in a suit—blazer and tie, even though he doesn’t need to today. He could get away with chinos and a button-up, if he wanted to, but he dresses as if he was still an active attorney trying cases.
I watch more than listen to him as he details their concerns due to all the rain we’ve had, more projected rain in the forecast, and the two department heads’ legitimate worries about roads, bridges, railways, and navigable waterways that ship goods through our state.
