Sons of Fortune

“Which is precisely why I’m getting it out of the way while there’s still a few weeks to go,” said Jimmy, “though ironically their votes have never influenced the outcome of the election.”

“A vote’s a vote,” said Fletcher.

“Not in this particular case,” said Jimmy, “because while the rest of the state now votes electronically, Madison remains the single exception. They are among the last districts in the country who still prefer to mark their ballots with a pencil.”

“But that doesn’t stop their votes from being valid,” insisted Fletcher.

“True, but in the past those votes have proved irrelevant, because they don’t begin the count until the morning after the election, when the overall result has already been declared. It’s a bit of a farce, but one of those traditions that the good burgers of Madison are unwilling to sacrifice on the altar of modern technology.”

“And you still want me to spend a whole day there?”

“Yes, because if the majority were less than five thousand, suddenly Madison would become the most important town in the state.”

“Do you think it could be that close while Bush still has a record lead in the polls?”

“Still is the operative word, because Clinton’s chipping away at that lead every day, so who knows who’ll end up in the White House, or in the governor’s mansion for that matter?”

Fletcher didn’t comment.

“You seem a little preoccupied this morning,” said Jimmy. “Anything else on your mind that you want to discuss with me?”

“It looks as if Nat’s going to win by a mile,” said Julia from behind the morning paper.

“A British prime minister once said that ‘a week’s a long time in politics,’ and we’ve still got several more of them left before the first vote is cast,” Tom reminded his wife.

“If Nat becomes governor, you’ll miss all the excitement. After all you two have been thr

ough, returning to Fairchild’s may turn out to be something of an anticlimax.”

“The truth is that I lost any interest in banking the day Russell’s was taken over.”

“But you’re about to become chairman of the biggest bank in the state.”

“Not if Nat wins the election, I won’t,” said Tom.

Julia pushed the paper aside. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Nat has asked me to be his chief of staff if he becomes governor.”

“Then who will take over as chairman of the bank?”

“You, of course,” said Tom. “Everyone knows you’d be the best person for the job.”

“But Fairchild’s would never appoint a woman as chairman, they’re far too traditional.”

“We’re living in the last decade of the twentieth century, Julia, and thanks to you, nearly half our customers are women. And as for the board, not to mention the staff, in my absence most of them think you already are the chairman.”

“But if Nat were to lose, he’ll quite rightly expect to return to Fairchild’s as chairman, with you as his deputy, in which case the question becomes somewhat academic.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Tom, “don’t forget that Jimmy Overman, Connecticut’s senior senator, has already announced that he’ll not be running for reelection next year, in which case Nat would be the obvious choice to replace him. Whichever one of them becomes governor, I feel sure the other will be going to Washington as the state’s senator.” He paused, “I suspect it will only be a matter of time before Nat and Fletcher run against each other for president.”

“Do you believe I can do the job?” asked Julia quietly.

“No,” said Tom, “you have to be born in America before you can run for president.”

“I didn’t mean president, you idiot, but chairman of Fairchild’s.”

“I knew that the day we met,” said Tom. “My only fear was that you wouldn’t consider I was good enough to be your husband.”