The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

Both William and Edward traveled regularly to Washington in an effort to stop her from thinking about Richard and bring her back to taking an interest in her work. Neither of them succeeded.

Florentyna spent a quiet Christmas at the Red House in Boston. William and Joanna found it difficult to adapt to the change that had taken place in so short a time. The once elegant and incisive lady had become listless and dull. It was an unhappy Christmas for everyone except that the ten-month-old Richard was learning to pull himself up. When Florentyna returned to Washington in the New Year, matters did not improve, and even Edward began to despair.

Janet Brown waited nearly a year before she told Florentyna that she had been offered the job of administrative assistant in Senator Hart’s office.

“You must accept the offer, my dear. There is nothing left for you here. I shall serve out my term and then retire.”

Janet too pleaded with Florentyna, but it had no effect.

Florentyna glanced through her mail, barely noticing a letter from Bella chiding her about not turning up for their daughter’s wedding, and signed some more letters that she hadn’t written or even bothered to read. When she checked her watch, it was six o’clock. An invitation from Senator Pryor to a small reception lay on the desk in front of her. Florentyna dropped the smartly embossed card into the wastepaper basket, picked up a copy of the Washington Post and decided to walk home alone. She had never once felt alone when Richard had been alive.

She came out of the Russell Building, crossed Delaware Avenue and cut over the grass of Union Station Plaza. Soon Washington would be a blaze of colors. The fountain splashed as she came to the paved walkway. She reached the steps leading down to New Jersey Avenue and decided to rest for a moment on the park bench. There was nothing to rush home for. She began to remember the look on Richard’s face as Jake Thomas welcomed him as chairman of Lester’s. He did look a fool standing there with a large red London bus under his arm. Reminiscing about such incidents in their life together brought her as near to happiness now as she ever expected to achieve.

“You’re on my bench.”

Florentyna blinked and looked to her side. A man wearing dirty jeans and an open brown shirt with holes in the sleeves sat on the other end of the bench staring at her suspiciously. He had not shaved for several days, which made it hard for Florentyna to determine his age.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your bench.”

“Been my bench, Danny’s bench, these last thirteen years,” said the grimy face. “Before that it was Ted’s and when I go Matt inherits it.”

“Matt?” repeated Florentyna uncomprehendingly.

“Yeah, Matt the Grain. He’s asleep behind parking lot sixteen waiting for me to die.” The tramp chuckled. “But I tell you the way he goes through that grain alcohol, Matt will never take over this bench. You not thinking of staying long, are you, lady?”

“No, I hadn’t planned to,” said Florentyna.

“Good,” said Danny.

“What do you do during the day?”

“Oh, this and that. Always know where we can get soup from church kitchens, and some of that stuff they throw out from the swanky restaurants can keep me going for days. I had the best part of a steak at the Monocle yesterday. I think I’ll try the Baron tonight.”

Florentyna tried not to show her feelings. “You don’t work?”

“Who’d give Danny work? I haven’t had a job in fifteen years—since I left the Army back in ’seventy. Nobody wanted this old vet. Should have died for my country in Nam—would have made things easier for everyone.”

“How many are there like you?”

“In Washington?”

“Yes, in Washington.”

“Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” Florentyna repeated in disbelief.

“Not as bad as some cities. New York they throw you in jail as quick as look at you. When are you thinking of going, lady?” he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Soon. May I ask—”

“You ask too many questions, so it’s my turn. Okay if I have the paper when you leave?”

“The Washington Post?”

“Good quality, that,” said Danny.

“You read it?”

“No.” He laughed. “I wrap myself up in it. Keeps me warm as a hamburger if I stay very still.”

She passed him the paper. She stood up and smiled at Danny, noticing for the first time that he had only one leg.

“Wouldn’t have a quarter to spare an old soldier?”

Florentyna rummaged through her bag. She had only a ten-dollar bill and thirty-seven cents in change. She handed the money to Danny.

He stared at her offering in disbelief. “There’s enough here for both Matt and me to have some real food,” he exclaimed. The tramp paused and looked at her more closely. “I know you, lady,” Danny said suspiciously. “You’re that senator lady. Matt always says he’s going to get an appointment with you and explain a thing or two about how you spend government money. But I told him what those little receptionists do when they see the likes of us walk in—they call the cops and grab the Lysol. Don’t even ask us to sign the guest book. I told Matt not to waste his valuable time.”

Florentyna watched Danny as he began to make himself comfortable on his bench, covering himself very expertly with the Washington Post. “Any case, I told him you would be much too busy to bother with him and so would the other ninety-nine.” He turned his back on the distinguished senator from Illinois and lay very still. Florentyna said good night before walking down the steps to the street where she was met by a policeman outside the entrance to the underground parking lot.

“The man on that bench?”

“Yes, Senator,” said the officer. “Danny, Danny One-Leg; he didn’t cause you any trouble, I hope?”

“No, not at all,” said Florentyna. “Does he sleep there every night?”

“Has for the past ten years, which is how long I’ve been on the force. Cold nights, he moves to a grate behind the Capitol. He’s harmless enough, not like some of those at the back of lot sixteen.”

Florentyna lay awake the rest of the night only nodding off occasionally as she thought about Danny One-Leg and the hundreds suffering from the same plight as his. At seven-thirty the next morning she was back in her office on Capitol Hill. The first person to arrive, at eight-thirty, was Janet and she was shocked to find Florentyna’s head buried in The Modern Welfare Society by Arthur Quern. Florentyna looked up.

“Janet, I want all the current unemployment figures, broken down into states, and then into ethnic groups. I also need to know, with the same breakdowns, how many people are on social security and what percentage have not worked for over two years. Then I want you to find out how many of them have served in the armed forces. Compile a list of every leading authority—You’re crying, Janet.”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

Florentyna came from behind her desk and put her arms around her. “It’s over, my dear. Let’s forget the past and get this show back on the road.”

Chapter