And every time she did, Lura’s ears perked up.
She couldn’t help it.
She was nosy by nature.
Blame it on being Southern. Blame it on growing up in a small town where everyone was into everyone else’s business. Or, hell, blame it on reading too many Judy Moody books in elementary school.
She set aside the printed speech and her AirPod, wondering, What sort of international intrigue is afoot now?
She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop. It was probably illegal to eavesdrop on the president. Treasonous even?
But, like always, her boss had left the connecting door ajar. Just enough to tempt. And through that tiny crack, quiet murmurs reached her ready ears.
“They say they want ten million dollars.”
Eliza Meadows. Leonard’s daughter. Her cool, crisp voice was unmistakable. Even coming through the speakerphone, it reminded Lura of freshly washed linen and expensive pearls.
Lura had worked hard to ditch her north Georgia drawl, but she’d never mastered the elegant, East Coast intonations that came naturally to Leonard and Eliza Meadows.
Not that Eliza was haughty or stuck-up. Quite the contrary, she was warm and surprisingly funny. But she had so much innate poise, so much Jackie O grace, that Lura couldn’t help feeling like a buttered biscuit compared to Eliza’s champagne brunch.
“And they’ve only given us until midnight to come up with it,” Eliza continued. “We were hoping?—”
“Let me stop you right there,” Leonard Meadows’s voice cut across his daughter’s words like a sharpened letter opener. “If you’re calling to ask for money, we can’t help you.”
Why do Eliza and the Black Knights need ten million dollars? Lura wondered. And then her mother’s favorite phrase ran through her head. Curiosity killed the cat.
Lura reached for her AirPods. Fiddled them between her fingers. But she didn’t plug them in.
She should plug them in. A good assistant would plug them in.
Shooting a quick glance toward the hallway door, she half-expected the uniformed Marine to burst in and accuse her of subversion or spying or…whatever. Just last year, a junior aide had been reassigned to the Department of Agriculture because she’d had a bad habit of listening in on meetings she wasn’t part of.
Alas, Lura’s inner Nancy Drew won out. Per usual. And Lura held her breath to make sure she didn’t miss a word that was said in the next room.
“We thought it might come from the same pot you pull the men’s salaries from,” Eliza said.
Leonard Meadows’s response was immediate. “That line item in the president’s budget is fixed. We can’t take out an additional ten million without drawing attention to ourselves.”
Lura bit the inside of her cheek. Her boss didn’t bend. Not for governors. Not for Congress. Not even for his own daughter.
Lura had never really understood the relationship between Leonard and Eliza Meadows. Lura’s own dear daddy still called her pumpkin and kissed her forehead as they said their tearful goodbyes whenever she had to fly back to D.C. after a trip home. In contrast, Leonard Meadows spoke to Eliza as if she were another subordinate, keeping her at a professional arm’s length.
“Dad…” Eliza tried again, her voice softening. “Please.”
“This has nothing to do with our side of the equation.” Again, the answer was clipped and concise, leaving no room for argument. “It sounds like maybe all this recent social media coverage has caught the attention of someone trying to make a quick score. Or maybe the Charleston cartel played the long game and finally made their move on Miss Greenlee. Either way, the motorcycle shop’s responsible for figuring things out, not me or the president. I’m sorry, Eliza, but?—”
Click.
Lura flinched. Eliza had cut the call.
Without saying goodbye.
Not that Lura blamed the poor woman. What was the point of wasting time on a farewell when Leonard Meadows wasn’t going to help, and when the clock was ticking?
Lura loved her job in the West Wing. She loved the fast pace and the importance of everyone’s efforts. She loved how she sometimes got to add her two cents to the president’s speeches since she came from “common folk” and knew how to talk to the masses.
But her boss was a hard man to work for, a hard man to like. And that was just god’s honest truth.
