Mirror Image

He was standing well beyond the door to her room. If he had knocked, she certainly wouldn’t have given him permission to come in. He was lying. He hadn’t knocked. More angry than embarrassed, she drew the bath sheet tighter around her.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“Uh, the guys left this for you.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he tossed a plastic binder on her bed. His intense gaze made her very uncomfortable. It was prurient, but it was also incisive. The bath sheet left her legs and shoulders bare. Could he detect the difference in her body from Carole’s? Did he know what Carole’s body had looked like?

“What guys?” she asked, trying not to let her discomfort show.

“From Wakely and Foster. They didn’t have a chance to give it to you last night before you stormed out of the meeting.”

“I didn’t storm out of the meeting. I came inside to check on Mandy.”

“And stayed until after they’d left.” She offered no apology or denial. “You didn’t like them, did you?”

“Since you asked, no. I’m surprised you do.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re usurping your position.”

“They work for us, not the other way around.”

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” she said. “They were autocratic and mandatory. I don’t respond to that kind of high-handedness, and I’ll be amazed if Tate tolerates it for any significant length of time.”

Jack laughed. “Feeling as you do about them and their high-handed advice, you’re going to have a tough time stomaching this.” He gestured down at the folder.

Curious, Avery approached the bed and picked up the folder. She opened it and scanned the first several sheets of paper. “A list of dos and don’ts for the candidate’s wife.”

“That’s right, Mrs. Rutledge.”

She slapped shut the folder’s cover and dropped it back onto the bed.

Again Jack laughed. “I’m glad I’m just the errand boy. Eddy’s going to be pissed if you don’t read and digest everything in there.”

“Eddy can go to hell. And so can you. And so can anybody who wants to make Tate a baby-kissing, handshaking, plastic automaton who can turn a glib phrase but says absolutely nothing worth listening to.”

“You’ve become quite a crusader for him, haven’t you? All of a sudden you’re his staunchest ally.”

“Damn right.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Carole?”

“I’m his wife. And the next time you want to see me, Jack, knock louder.”

He took a belligerent step toward her, his face congested with anger. “Playact all you want in front of everybody else, but when we’re alone—”

“Mommy, I drew you a picture.” Mandy came bounding in, waving a sheet of construction paper.

Jack glowered at Avery, then wheeled around and strode from the room. She congratulated herself on holding up remarkably well, but now her weak knees buckled and she sank onto the edge of the bed, gathering Mandy against her and holding on tight. She pressed her lips against the top of the child’s head. It would be difficult to tell who was drawing comfort from whom.

“Mommy?”

“What did you draw? Let me see.” Avery released her and studied the colorful slashes Mandy had made across the page. “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, smiling tremulously.

In the weeks since her visit with Dr. Webster, Mandy had made tremendous progress. She was gradually emerging from the shell she had sequestered herself in. Her mind was fertile. Her sturdy little body seemed imbued with energy. Though her self-confidence was still fragile, it didn’t seem quite so breakable as before.

“It’s Daddy. And here’s Shep,” she chirped, pointing to a dark blue blob on the paper.