Florentyna faced the fact that she would now have to spend two years in the political wilderness, and it didn’t ease the pain when she read the Chicago Tribune’s headline the day after the election:
BROOKS ROMPS HOME IN SENATE RACE
The Future
1982–1995
Chapter
Thirty-One
William first brought Joanna Cabot home at Christmas. Florentyna knew instinctively that they would be married, and not just because her father turned out to be a distant relative of Richard’s. Joanna was dark-haired, slim and graceful and shyly expressive of her obvious feelings for William. For his part, William was attentive and conspicuously proud of the young woman who stood quietly by his side. “I suppose I might have expected you to produce a son who has been educated in New York, lived in Washington and Chicago but ends up returning to Boston to choose his wife,” Florentyna teased Richard.
“William is your son as well,” he reminded her. “And what makes you think he’ll marry Joanna?”
Florentyna just laughed. “I predict Boston in the spring.”
She turned out to be wrong: they had to wait until the summer.
William was in his final year as an undergraduate and he had taken his business boards and was waiting anxiously to be accepted at the Harvard School of Business.
“In my day,” said Richard, “you waited until you had finished school and made a little money before you thought about marriage.”
“That just isn’t true, Richard. You left Harvard early to marry me and for several weeks afterwards I kept you.”
“You never told me that, Dad,” said William.
“Your father has what in politics is called a selective memory.”
William left laughing.
“I still think—”
“They’re in love, Richard. Have you grown so old you can’t see what’s staring you in the face?”
“No, but—”
“You’re not yet fifty and you’re already acting like an old fuddy-duddy. William is almost the same age as you when you married me. Well, haven’t you anything to say?”
“No. You’re just like all politicians: you keep interrupting.”
The Kanes went to stay with the Cabots early in the new year and Richard immediately liked John Cabot, Joanna’s father, and was surprised that, with so many family friends in common, they had not yet met before. Joanna had two little sisters, who spent the weekend running around William.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Richard said that Saturday night in bed. “I think Joanna is just what William needs.”
Florentyna put on an extreme mid-European accent and asked, “What if Joanna had been a little Polish immigrant who sold gloves in Bloomingdale’s?”
Richard took Florentyna in his arms and said, “I would have told him not to buy three pairs of gloves because it would work out cheaper just to marry the girl.”
Preparations for the forthcoming wedding seemed complicated and demanding to Florentyna, who remembered vividly how simply she and Richard had been married and how Bella and Claude had lugged the double bed up the stairs in San Francisco. Luckily Mrs. Cabot wanted to handle all the arrangements herself and whenever something was expected of the Kanes, Annabel was only too happy to leap forward as the family representative.
In early January, Florentyna returned to Washington to clear out her office. Colleagues stopped and chatted with her as if she hadn’t left the House. Janet was waiting for her with a pile of letters, most of them saying how sorry they were that Florentyna would not be returning to Congress but hoping that she would run for the Senate again in two years’ time.
Florentyna answered every one of them but couldn’t help wondering if something might go wrong in 1984 as well. If it did, that would finish her political career completely.
Florentyna left the capital for New York, only to find herself getting in everyone’s way. The Baron Group and Lester’s were being competently run by Richard and Edward. The Group had changed considerably since Richard had implemented the many improvements suggested by McKinsey and Company. She was continually surprised by the new Baron of Beef restaurants that could now be found on every ground floor and thought she would never get used to the computer banks alongside the hairdresser’s in the hote
l lobby. When Florentyna went to see Gianni to check on the progress of the shops, he assumed she had only come in for a new dress.
During those first few months away from Washington, Florentyna became more restless than she could remember. She traveled to Poland twice and could only feel despair for her countrymen as she looked around at the devastation, wondering where the Russians would strike next. Florentyna took advantage of these journeys to meet European leaders who continually referred to their fear that America was becoming more and more isolationist with each succeeding President.
When she returned to America, once again the question of whether she should run for the Senate loomed in front of her. Janet, who had remained on Florentyna’s staff, began to discuss tactics with Edward Winchester which included regular trips to Chicago for Florentyna, who accepted any speaking engagements in Illinois that came her way. Florentyna felt relieved when Senator Rodgers called her over the Easter recess to say that he hoped she would run for his seat the following year and added that she could count on his backing.
As Florentyna checked over the Chicago newspapers that were sent to her each week, she could not help noticing that Ralph Brooks was already making a name for himself in the Senate. He had somehow managed to get on the prestigious Foreign Relations Committee as well as the Agriculture Committee—so important to Illinois farmers. He was also the only freshman senator to be appointed to the Democratic Task Force on Regulatory Reform.
It made her more determined, not less.
William and Joanna’s wedding turned out to be one of the happiest days of Florentyna’s life. Her twenty-two-year-old son standing in tails next to his bride brought back to her memories of his father in San Francisco. The silver band hung loosely on his left wrist, and Florentyna smiled as she noticed the little scar on his right hand. Joanna, although she looked shy and demure by William’s side, had already rid her future husband of some of his more eccentric habits, among them several gaudy ties and the Fidel Castro mustache William had been so proud of before he had met her. Grandmother Kane, as everyone now referred to Kate, was looking more and more like a pale-blue battleship at full steam as she plowed through the guests, kissing some and allowing others—those few older than herself—to kiss her. At seventy-six she was still elegant, without a suggestion of a failing faculty. She was also the one member of the family who could remonstrate with Annabel and get away with it.