“Sisters.” Lydia’s voice thundered across the crowd in her usual effortless way. “And unexpected brothers,” she added, getting a laugh from her supporters and the men. “Mrs. Gossard points out how singular this conference is compared with all others, but she fails to grasp the reason wizards have never managed to disrupt us before: They have neverbotheredbefore. And why? Because we had never posed a threat before!”
The Hazelhurst contingent applauded loudly. But they accounted for a fraction of the ninety-six people—presidents and vice presidents in each of the forty-eight states—who would be voting. An entire tableful of elderly women near Beatrix crossed themselves, shuddering.
“And lest you think I am merely claiming the interference of wizards to cover up my own ineptitude, and that I somehow concocted that film out of thin air, readThe Startomorrow. The owner of the Key Hotel has admitted all,” Lydia said, skirt swishing around her heels as she paced.
Ella grasped Beatrix’s arm. “What? What film? What’s she talking about?”
Ella had been with Beatrix and Rosemarie all day—Rosemarie keeping a sharp eye on her—and wasn’t anywhere near the church when Lydia showed the film there. Beatrix’s stomach twisted.
“Tell you later,” she whispered.
Lydia grasped the microphone with both hands. “So I ask you: Why are you here? Why did you join the League? Is it to socialize? To feel as if you’re standing on the high ground? Ordo you want to change this country?”
“Amen!”cried Joan Hamilton of the Baltimore chapter, jumping to her feet and drawing echoamensfrom other young leaders.
“If you ask me, the biggest risk to the League’s dignity is petitioningwizardsto outlaw magic!” Lydia boomed. “It is an action designed to make us look ridiculous!”
The men loved that. Their laughter was so loud that she had to pause a few seconds.
“Let me tell you what Mrs. Gossard must surely know: We willneverbe able to ban magic,” she said, to gasps from some of the assembled women and a lone “hear, hear!” from Dot Yamaguchi, a fellow Hazelhurst senior. “It would be as fruitless as telling our armed forces they must not use tanks though every other country has them.”
“That’s true!” a man called out, a man who sounded very much like Blackwell.
“But wecando something very important.” Lydia said this a few notches up from a whisper, like a secret. Theworkers weren’t laughing anymore. They were listening. “We can throw the wizards out of Congress. We can throw them out of the White House. And”—she amped up to a roar—“we can stop giving a tiny percent of the country more rights than all the rest of us!”
Silence greeted this statement—for a beat, maybe two. Then the men cheered with the sort of wild enthusiasm Beatrix had only ever heard on radio broadcasts of football games.
“Sign me up!” yelled a redhead in a leather jacket.
“Our founding fathers understood that a military is both potent and necessary, but its purpose is to serve America—not to rule it,” Lydia bellowed over the noise. “Wizards may have magical power, but not the power to subvert a government of the people, by the people, for the people!”
The men roared their approval. The League leaders—the ones not sitting at the three tables Lydia had long ago sewn up—were far harder to read. They were giving her their full attention. They were not, however, clapping.
“I won’t sugarcoat it.” Lydia stopped pacing, which must have taken a monumental effort of will. “Reform won’t be easy. Our wizard overseers are very used to the way this country is run, and they won’t go without a fight. If you’re not ready for hard work, sisters—if you’re satisfied with what the League has accomplished in our lifetimes—then by all means vote for Mrs. Gossard.”
She paused, staring at the women around the tables. Challenging them. Beatrix held her breath.
“But let me remind you,” Lydia said, “that everything we set out to do in this conference today has been done, even though the magiocracy has spent the last eight months trying to keep it from happening. The fact that we were able to meetanywheretoday”—she looked straight at Beatrix—“is a testament to what the League can accomplish when we refuse to give up. So, my sisters,” she said, urging, cajoling, “will you talk ordo? Because I say we need to start running this organization with the dignity it deserves!”
Someone chanted her name as she stepped back into the tent—Beatrix again suspected Blackwell—and soon all the men were bellowing, “Har-per, Har-per, Har-per!”
“Holy smoke, but she can work a crowd,” Ella said, hands clasped reverently. “But tell me—what was that about a?—”
“Later, sorry!” Beatrix called out, running toward Lydia to get her to sit down.
Gossard beat her to her destination. “Youplannedthis,” she whispered, fury coloring her alabaster skin.
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “None of us had any idea we would be here until a few hours ago. We were all far too busy acquiring a tent and other necessities at the extreme last minute to inquire whether two hundred men would show up to make trouble.”
“And as you might recall, we wanted to hold the election at St. Margaret’s,” Beatrix said.
Gossard scowled. “I demand to be present while the ballots are tallied.”
“Be my guest,” Lydia said.
“And neither of us may talk toanyoneuntil they’ve voted,” the president added, turning on her heel.
As the caterers cleared away the dishes, Beatrix handed each woman a ballot and pen. Then she rushed to rescue Lydia from the Schoen mob. The men were shaking her hand, asking how they could help kick the bums out and in several cases begging for an autograph.
