A Political Affair (15 page)

“Okay . . .” Her deep breath was audible across the phone line. “What’s her address?”

Anne pressed “end” on the phone and stared at it as she let the conversation sink in.
Oh my God. I have a date with Stephen to meet his mother again.
She shook her head as if the movement would make the idea absorb into her consciousness. Dread and excitement grew inside of her, until reality set in with the inevitable question—
What should I wear?

At two o’clock sharp, the doorman called Lillian and announced Anne’s arrival. Before Stephen even brought it up, she told him to answer the door. She understood they might want a few words together before they all sat down. The meeting would be awkward enough as it was.

When the two walked into the living room, Lillian was just placing her mother’s china tea set on the coffee table. She looked up and saw Stephen with his hand proudly on Anne’s shoulder.
Oh dear
, Lillian thought.
He really likes her.
 

Perfectly dressed for an afternoon with a suitor’s mother, Anne was smiling. Lillian returned the smile. “Good afternoon, Anne. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Thank you for inviting me over, Mrs. McEvoy,” she answered.

“Please, call me Lillian. Still to this day, when I hear ‘Mrs. McEvoy’ I think of my mother-in-law.”
 

Stephen crossed his arms. “Hey, Mom. Why don’t you tell her about Grandma, and how you and Dad got together? That’s a good story.”

Only Lillian detected the smug tone in Stephen’s voice. She raised her eyebrows. “I think that might bore Anne. Besides, she’s probably already knows that ancient history. It’s certainly been told in the media again and again.”

Anne looked uncertain, as if she didn’t know if she should admit she’d heard it before. “Only a little.”

“Come on, Mom,” said Stephen. “You’ll give her a better version.”

Lillian flashed her son a look to tell him she knew what he was up to. After a second of rumination, she decided the conversation might break the ice. “Oh, all right. I suppose it is amusing.” She gestured to the sofa. “Please sit. Anne, can I get you tea or coffee?”

“Thank you. I’ll take some tea.”

As Stephen and Anne took their seats, Lillian poured tea and handed out cookies. She launched into her story. “Patrick was my second husband. My first marriage ended in divorce, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. My first husband was my escort when I was a debutante. It was always expected Henry and I would marry, and we did—right after I graduated from Sarah Lawrence.”

“Were you too young?” Anne asked.

Lillian smiled at what she thought was an excellent question, showing a cautionary outlook on life. Given what the two were embarking on, Lillian thought it smart Anne considered such things. She took her tea and sat down. “No. I wouldn’t say that, though I understand why you ask. I have friends who married at the same age who remain happy with their husbands. We were never really happy, even in the beginning. That was our problem.”

“That’s too bad. When did you divorce?” asked Anne.

“I was twenty-five. It was rather scandalous. Neither of our families was the divorcing kind. Our parents only accepted it because we didn’t have children.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Of course,
I
was blamed for that, but you’ve seen my children.
Obviously
the problem wasn’t with me, but we didn’t know it at the time.”

“Obviously not.” Stephen chuckled. “Tell her what you did next.”

“Ah, to the great dismay of my family, I moved to Paris and became a governess to a French government official’s family. He wanted his children to speak fluent English. I’d majored in French in college and lived in Paris for a semester, so I knew the country well.” She laughed. “I thought if I was going to be a barren old maid, I might as well do it in Paris.”

“So did you meet your husband there?” Anne asked.

“No. In Colorado, six years later. At the time, Patrick was a junior member of Congress, and his father was senator. The family I worked for was vacationing in the West, and we’d stopped in Rocky Mountain National Park. Patrick was there for an event. He heard me speaking French to the children and came over to talk.”

“And the rest is history?” Anne smiled.

“Almost. He didn’t know I was an American, and he started speaking in terrible French. I told him if he wanted to impress me, he needed to speak in English.”

“It caught Dad’s attention,” Stephen said with a nod. “Normally, women didn’t talk to him that way.”

“That’s great.” Anne laughed. “I guess he impressed you, then.”

“He did. We fell in love, almost overnight. I quit my job to stay in Denver with my family.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, his mother didn’t like me. Even though he had been quite the ladies’ man, she didn’t think he should settle down with a Protestant, over-thirty divorcee.”
 

“But you still married. What happened?” Anne asked.

“It was very romantic.” Mrs. McEvoy sighed happily. “A year after we met, we eloped.”

“That does sound special, especially given the circumstances.”

“It was. Patty was born the following year. Then Megan came along a few years later. And finally, Stephen.” She smirked. “My ex-husband has
still
never acknowledged the birth of any of my children.”
 

“I bet he never will,” said Anne with a smile.

Lillian nodded. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Anne answered.

As Lillian poured Anne’s second cup, she used the mundane activity as a segue to the real subject of the day. “So that was my scandal.” She gave Stephen a sharp glance before passing the cup to Anne. Meeting Anne eye to eye, she asked, “What do we have going on here?”

With a chiding tone, Stephen jumped in. “Mom, we talked about this already.”

“We did. Now I want to hear from Anne.”

Anne’s eyes shifted to Stephen and then back to Lillian’s. She shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I’d only say we’re proceeding cautiously.”

“And so you’re aware of the risk—of everything?” Lillian said as she cocked her head in skepticism.
 

“Of course,” Anne answered, her brow furrowed. She obviously didn’t like the friendly conversation turning into an interrogation.

Stephen leaned forward in his seat and said, “Mom—”

Anne briefly placed her hand on his arm and showed her good manners, despite being put in an awkward situation. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s a reasonable question.”

“But not appropriate,” Stephen countered.

“I think this entire situation is well past appropriate, Stephen.” Lillian leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I only want what’s best for you, but since you’re an adult, you have to decide that.”
 

She turned to Anne. “It’s not that I don’t like you. Actually, I do. I just want to make sure the two of you have thought this through completely before you proceed any further. Stephen says he has. Have you?”

Anne nodded, but looked at her askance. “With all due respect, some might say I have more at risk, personally, than anyone here. You know what kind of family I come from—what’s expected of me, what my life should look like. Of course I’ve thought this through.”

Lillian studied Anne for a moment, admiring her candor.
She’s lovely, and if it weren’t for the election, I’d be more than happy he found her.
Turning to Stephen, she saw he wore a frown until he looked at Anne and they shared a smile. Lillian sighed to herself as she saw what was in motion before her
—
for better or for worse, Stephen was falling in love. She resigned herself to the fact she was powerless to stop it and her job was to steer her son the best she could.
 

To the shock of everyone in the room, Lillian leaned over, clasped Anne’s hand, and smiled. “I’m very reassured to hear that. Thank you for answering me so honestly.”

She turned to Stephen, who smiled warily. She gave him a confirming nod and issued her decision. “I have bridge at three today, so I need to leave shortly. I hope you two have a nice time together tomorrow.” She rose from her seat and smiled at Anne. “And I’d love to have you over for brunch soon.”

Chapter 11

On Sunday, Anne perched herself at the window of her basement apartment, on the lookout for Megan’s car. When it pulled up, she bounded out the door, climbed in, and received a warm welcome from Megan and her husband. Anne thought Marco devastatingly handsome, charming, and proud of his humble roots. It made her question everything she’d ever thought of the McEvoys—maybe they weren’t as snobby as she’d assumed.
 

   
As they arrived at the McEvoy family home, she changed her mind again, though. The stately building was ominous with gray stone and a grand glass and iron awning over the front steps. A twenty-foot high, decorative iron fence separated the house from the rest of humanity.
 

When Stephen opened the door to the house and welcomed everyone in, she gave him a quick once-over. She’d feared his idea of casual was a button-down and khakis, as he’d worn yesterday with his mother. Instead, he wore a T-shirt which clung to his body, accentuating every muscle normally hidden by his daily dress shirts. She’d never seen so much of his skin bare, and she thought he might as well be naked. His accompanying jeans were faded blue and slung low on his hips. He’d passed her test with flying colors, and she grinned.

After he took her hand and they all said hello, the foursome walked inside the palatial foyer of the home. Anne surveyed the entry, noticing every fancy cornice while Megan and Stephen spoke about dinner. When they reached the end of the hallway, Marco ushered his wife out of the foyer.
 

“So, come by the kitchen around six,” Marco called over his shoulder. “We’ll have dinner started.”

“We’ll be downstairs either in the gym or watching football, if you want to find us,” said Megan.

As they walked away, Anne heard Megan whisper to Marco, “Shouldn’t we check on them from time to time?”

“
Absolutely
not,” muttered Marco.
 

Anne felt a rush of nervous delight when she realized she would be truly alone with Stephen for the entire afternoon. She looked up at him with smile. Unsure of what to say, she remarked, “This is quite a house.”

“My grandfather built it when he was a congressman back in the twenties.” He shrugged and smiled. “It’s a little over the top. I’d rather not live here, but I lost that battle.” He motioned toward a door. “Come on. Let me show you the library. I think you’ll really like it. It’s my favorite room in the house.”

Through a sunny, yellow sitting room and two pocket doors, they entered a library, the likes of which she’d only seen in movies. Cherrywood bookcases ran floor to ceiling with sliding ladders that would allow even her to reach a book at the top. A few comfy chairs for solo reading resided in corners and by the windows, and a leather couch sat in front of a fireplace with a giant bearskin hanging above the mantle.

“Wow. This is amazing,” she said as she took her hand away from his. She wanted to explore the beautiful room by herself. As she admired the books and furnishings, the enormity of the McEvoy wealth hit her for the first time, and it made her chuckle.
 

“You know, stereotypes are reversed here.” She smirked. “I’m from the Republican family, but we’re middle class. You’re all wealthy Democrats. Go figure.”

“Middle class? Doesn’t your family have a ranch?”

“Okay. Upper-middle class, but still middle class. And yes, we’ve got some land, but it’s been in the family for generations. It’s nothing like
your
family’s ranch—I’m sure of that.” She playfully swatted his arm. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just think the role reversal is kind of funny.”

“I guess it is.” He smiled and glanced around the room. “As I said, I wouldn’t have chosen to live here.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful home.”

“Yeah, but I live here alone. I kind of rattle around the place. It’s nice when the whole family comes for dinner or to watch a game, and everybody is always here when there’s a snowstorm. That’s fun. Usually, though, I feel pretty isolated.”