Peter pushed to his feet. “I’ll be in the greenhouse.”
“Stay—please?”
“I can’t imagine that would help,” he said, but he stood beside her, shoulder to hers, a physical support.
“Omnimancer, Mrs. Blackwell,” Gray said as he stepped down from his truck, face impassive.
“Senator,” she said. “Please come in.”
“No, this won’t take long—and if the wizards want to listen in,” he said acerbically, “they’re welcome to it. Because I’m done.”
Her heart sank. “Senator?—”
“No, I’m not doing this again.” Gray shook his head for emphasis. “Not next year, not ever. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get run out of the Senate, but regardless—never again.”
“We wouldn’t be starting from scratch,” she pleaded. “The measures passed in other states don’t expire—we have a whole year to show people that what happened today was a misleading diversionary tactic?—”
“No, no,no. I ran on family values, Mrs. Blackwell! I don’t know what I was thinking, getting involved with you radicals! Everyday, a new scandal. You’re not persuading me again, andfurthermore”—she winced, knowing what was coming, powerless to stop it—“your services are no longer required. Effective immediately.”
She watched him go, unable to respond. Why on earth was she surprised? Why had she expected anything else from him?
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Peter, silent beside her. She’d convinced him they should marry immediately, assured him they could get by on her salary. She should have realized how easily it could all come crashing down.
Then she saw Sue, running toward them across Main Street.“Oh,” Beatrix gasped, and rushed to meet her, heart clenching, Peter at her heels. The baby must be ill. Or one of the other children. Or Daniel Clark was injured. Or?—
“I just heard about the vote,” Sue said, taking her hands. “Oh, Beatrix! I’m so sorry—I want todosomething, and I don’t know what that could be, other than give you a hug because you look like you desperately need one!”
Sue threw her arms around her and Beatrix no longer could hold back the hot, angry tears. Their work ruined, her job lost, all in the space of a few hours.
“There, there,” Sue murmured, and Beatrix was forcefully reminded of Ella.There, there,she’d once said,what’s the worst that can happen? Well, besides utterly failing and going to our graves knowing the wizards won, of course. I suppose there’s that.
At the time, it had made her laugh. Now she clutched Sue and wept.
“I’m just about to put dinner on the table,” Sue said after a moment. “Come over and eat with us—please do.”
“Oh,” she said, voice catching, thinking of the Clarks’ tight budget, “we wouldn’t—wouldn’t want to impose?—”
“Fiddlesticks,” Sue said. “We’ve plenty of food tonight.”
As Beatrix opened her mouth to accept, Peter muttered, “Oh, God,nowwhat?” She turned and saw her sister and Rosemarie walking quickly down Main Street toward her. Lydia had something in her hands. It looked like a letter.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, gripped with a dizzying certainty that she knew the answer. “What is it?”
“The hospital bill.” Lydia’s face was twisted with worry. “I opened it without noticing it was addressed to you, and—oh,Bee, it’s bad?—”
Peter rushed to the mailbox and returned with an identical envelope in his hand. They looked at the bills together—a his-and-hers set, one figure (hers) equal to an entire year of Lydia’s college tuition and the other …
“We’ll never be able to repay this,” Peter said, an unnatural calm to his voice that was worse somehow than if he’d raged and screamed. “Never.”
CHAPTER 19
They hustled inside to talk about it—all of them except Mrs. Clark, whose kind dinner invitation they had to turn down—but really, what could they do? Nothing. His savings plus what he might reasonably expect from the sale of his townhouse in Washington wouldn’t cover a quarter of their combined bills. Beatrix’s savings amounted to a few hundred dollars.
Then Lydia, eyes wide, read a line from the bill out loud: “If you wish to negotiate a payment plan, you must disclose all financial accounts and owned property.” She whispered, “Bee—what if they come after our house?”
“No, no,” he assured her, “we’ve got the money to pay Beatrix’s bill—your home is safe.”
“Peter,” Lydia bit out, “Beatrix’s name is the only one on the deed. And now that you’re married?—”
