Mirror Image
Page 60
“Why? Fancy’s working there.”
“Which is reason enough to keep you out. There might be bloodshed.”
“I’ll ignore her.”
He shook his head. “We’ve got a slew of new volunteers. They’re stepping over each other. Eddy’s inventing work to accommodate all of them.”
“I’ve got to get involved in something, Tate.”
“Why, for God’s sake?”
Because Avery Daniels performed best under pressure, she was accustomed to moving at a hectic pace, and couldn’t tolerate inactivity. The sedentary life Carole Rutledge had lived was driving her insane.
She could neither protect him from assassination nor do a story on the attempt if he continued to keep her at a safe distance. Her future, as well as his, hinged on her becoming as actively involved in his campaign as all the suspects.
“I feel like I should
be helping you in some way.”
He barked a short laugh. “Who do you think you’re kidding?”
“I’m your wife!”
“Only for the time being!”
His sharp put-down silenced her. Tate, seeing her wounded expression, swore beneath his breath. “Okay, if you want to do something for me, continue being a decent mother to Mandy. She’s opening up a little, I think.”
“She’s opening up a lot. And I intend for her to improve further every day.”
She braced her hands on his desk and leaned over it, as she had when she had appealed to Irish for permission to pursue a story that met with his disapproval. “Even Mandy and her problems don’t consume enough time. I can’t be with her constantly. She goes to nursery school three mornings a week.”
“You agreed with the psychologist that she should.”
“I still do. Interaction with other children is extremely beneficial to her. She needs to develop social skills. But while she’s at school, I wander through the house, killing time until it’s time to pick her up. Every afternoon she takes a long nap.” She leaned farther forward. “Please, Tate. I’m withering on the vine.”
He held her stare for a long moment. Eventually, his eyes ventured down into the gaping vee of her silk shirt, but he quickly raised them and looked annoyed with himself for even that merest slip of his control.
He cleared his throat and asked crossly, “Okay, what do you suggest?”
Her tension eased somewhat. At least he was open to discussing it. She straightened up. “Let me work at headquarters.”
“Nix.”
“Then let me accompany you on that campaign trip next week.”
“No,” he said with taut finality.
“Please.”
“I said no.” Angrily he swung his feet to the floor, stood up, and rounded the desk.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not a trouper, Carole, and I won’t put up with the disharmony you create.”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” he demanded, incredulous that her memory didn’t serve her. “When you went before, you complained about the rooms, the banquet food, everything. You ran consistently late when you knew how tightly Eddy wanted to keep to schedule. You made wisecracks to the press, which you considered cute and everybody else thought were tasteless and unbecoming. And that was only a three-day trip to test the waters before I had made my final decision to run.”