For this very reason.
“Stella,” Mom says before I can formulate an answer, “I thought you have an apartment here in DC?”
It’s more a townhouse, and in a ritzy area, too. Not that Stella’s bothered to make time to invite them over to her place. My sister claimed she was too busy. Yet she insisted on being given a room at Blair House, across the street from the White House and where my parents are staying, for several days.
I told Jordan to let her have it just to shut her up.
“I do.” She finally turns, her fake smile chilling me. “Why should I pay for a place if my brother is POTUS? I can get rid of it and live here with you. You’ll need the help since you don’t have a wife.”
I take a deep breath because I’ve rehearsed this in my head a bunch of times. “I didn’t know you were quitting your job.”
She scowls. “What? I’m not quitting! Who told you that?”
“The only way you’ll ever get a room of your own here is if you quit working completely and fully disclose all your lobbying contracts, as well as release all your financials and tax returns for the last twelve years.”
Mom and Dad look puzzled.
Stella on the other hand grows enraged, because she knows exactly what I’m asking ofher, a paid lobbyist. “You are out of your flipping gourd if you think I’m doing that! Do you know how much money I make a year? The people I work for?”
I refuse to blow my cool, especially in front of our parents. “No, I don’t. That’s part of the problem. It’s also why I never let you stay with me in Number One Observatory. Because I don’t need my administration caught up in an ethics or lobbying scandal. You can’t have it both ways, Stella. You can’t use me for cloutandsponge off of me. You make way more money than I do and have for years, and you damned well know it. I don’t have any conflicts of interest.”Well, besides Jordan and Leo.“Unlike you, my income and tax returns are public record. I releasedallmy tax returns for the past twelve years.”
She scoffs. “Notmyproblem you were stupid enough to do that, bonehead.”
“Knock it off, Stella,” Dad says, his stern tone surprising both of us. “Elliot’s right. You don’t need to waste taxpayer dollars sponging off your big brother.”
Stella’s mouth gapes in shock and I’m not sure mine isn’t gaping, too.
“But Dad—”
“For Pete’s sake, Stella. Give it a rest for one danged day, huh? Your brother is president now. I don’t want to hear any more whining out of you when you know darn well you don’t have anything to whine about!”
Holy.
Cow.
I wish I had this exchange on video to giggle over in private when I can better appreciate it.
Dad taking up for me over Stella?
Maybe Hell really has frozen over.
Mom nods. “Your father’s right, Stella. I mean, I feel bad for you that Grace died but it’s time for you to stand on your own two feet and stop trying to use your brother to get ahead in life. If you want to run for president yourself, do it. Otherwise, maybe it’s time you finally settled down and found a husband. You’re not getting any younger. You wait too much longer and you won’t be able to give us grandbabies.”
My eyes widen, as do Stella’s. She’s forty-one. From tidbits Leo’s gleaned courtesy of the DC social grapevine, I know Stella has no desire to have kids even though she’s never directly addressed that topic with me or my parents. She also doesn’t have a long-term relationship.
At least, not a public one.
I’m certain she has plenty of secret boyfriends. It’s what Grace used to do, and those two peas ran in a pretty tight pod together.
Stella is good at feigning indignity. “Mom, why would you say such a thing to me? I don’t need a man to be whole.”
“Because you seem like a pretty miserable person, honey. Maybe if you had a relationship it would, I don’t know. Make you friendlier?”
That finishes me and I snort, which pisses Stella off. “What areyoulaughing at?” she snaps at me.
“She’s not wrong, sis.”
“You stay out of this, Smelliot!”
