Eggsecutive Orders (28 page)

My heart seemed to beat more slowly than it ever had, every lub-dub a crushing ache. The relationship might have ended, but that didn’t mean my feelings for Tom had. I still cared deeply for him, and probably always would. I wondered again if I’d made the right decision. But Tom had been asking me to be someone I wasn’t. He wanted a girlfriend who would follow the rules of life that made sense to him, but were anathema to me.

In his life, he was right—just as I was in mine. No fault to be assigned. But no happy ending, either. I looked out into the darkness.

I sighed again. Just because this was the right thing to do didn’t make it easy.

“You’re back,” Nana said when I came through the door. Her face was bright with excitement, but I couldn’t find it in me to smile back.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“She had a wonderful time,” Nana went on, unmindful of my mood. “They only got back about a half hour ago.”

Instinctively I looked at my watch, but the time didn’t register. Still, I knew it was late. “Just a half hour ago?” I asked, still standing in my little foyer. My mind was slow to process her words. “But it’s after midnight.”

Nana grinned.

“Whatever,” I said. My conversation with Tom was still fresh in my mind, and still stung. I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep away my disappointment. I desperately wanted to be alone.

“Ollie,” Mom said, coming in from the kitchen. She, too, looked at her watch. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

Looking away, I said. “Lots of catch-up work.”

Nana continued to beam at her daughter, but my mom was staring at me. “Is there something wrong?”

Making a face that said, “Nah,” I lied, shaking my head. “Just a long day. That, and the fact that they’ve suspended Bucky.”

They chorused their disapproval and started to ask me questions, but I really couldn’t handle explaining everything right then. Cranky, tired, and feeling as though my hands were tied, I realized it was better to let someone else talk for a while. “How did Kap behave?” I asked.

“Behave?” There was levity in Mom’s voice, but I could sense her displeasure at my choice of words. “Perfectly, of course. We went to a lovely restaurant for dinner.” When she told me about the upscale seafood restaurant, I interrupted.

“You have that chain in Chicago. I’ve seen at least one of them downtown. And in Schaumburg. Probably Oak Brook, too.”

Mom’s smile faltered only slightly. “You may be right, but this was a new experience for me.”

“It’s a decent restaurant,” I said against rising anger I knew I should contain, but couldn’t. “But why not take you somewhere unique to D.C.?”

She blinked. “The restaurant didn’t matter. What mattered was the company.”

“The company of a man who was on a date with you instead of at his best friend’s funeral?”

“Olivia!” Mom snapped.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Although I meant it, I was not able to stand there and talk a moment longer. I didn’t blame her. I blamed myself. But that didn’t mean I had control over my emotions right now. I wanted to find a familiar hole and hide, letting the rest of the world go on without me. Every thread of my soul panged with disappointment. All I wanted was to be alone.

The looks Mom and Nana gave me were less of anger and more of concern. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Something
is
wrong, isn’t it?” Mom asked.

One thing about people who have known you since birth: You can rely on them to be your strongest allies when times get really tough, even if they don’t fully understand. I knew they would cut me the slack I needed tonight. And despite my desire for solitude, I was glad they were there. “There’s a lot wrong,” I said finally. “But right now I better go to bed before I make things worse.” I tried to smile, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m going to put an end to this horrible day, and start fresh tomorrow.”

Nana and Mom exchanged glances.

“That’s probably best,” Mom said.

I lay awake for a long time, staring up into the darkness until my eyes adjusted and everything in the room seemed clear again.
If only life were like that,
I thought. Look at something long enough, and see it for what it really is.

Mom and Nana sat in the kitchen, talking. I couldn’t make out their words, but the soft murmurings—which I knew were full of concerns about me—reminded me of nights in my bed when I was a little girl at home and the comforting sound of their quiet conversation lulled me to sleep. Oh that I could return to those days, just for an instant . . . Just for tonight.

Sleep continued to dance in the darkness, just out of reach. As I stared at the ceiling and reshuffled my last conversation with Tom, I watched the dull luminescence of the clock. Its digital numbers inched upward with painful precision.

Tomorrow would be a better day, I promised myself. Until I realized it was already tomorrow.

CHAPTER 20

DESPITE MY PRONOUNCEMENT NEVER TO READ
Liss Is More
again, the man’s appearance on the Metro yesterday spooked me enough to check if he had made good on his promise to “out” my relationship with Tom. Just wait until he found out we were no longer a couple. I’d scooped him on one story at least. But there was no joy in it.

I scanned the page quickly. Today’s column made no mention of me, and none of Tom, thank goodness. Today, Liss seemed focused on Carl Minkus’s next targets. He wrote extensively about Alicia Parker and Phil Cooper and why Minkus might have had reason to suspect them of consorting with terrorists in their free time.

Happy that he hadn’t targeted me again, and convinced that Liss was certifiable, I shoved the newspaper away, and decided that this was a very positive omen. A very good way to start the day.

I made coffee, started breakfast, and resolved to beat away any negative thoughts—if not for myself, then for my family. I owed them that much. My behavior yesterday after Mom’s date was inexcusable.

Homemade waffles, topped with bananas, strawberries, and blueberries would make a good start, I decided. The mixed scents floated above my head, and I knew—with a kitchen as small as mine—it wouldn’t be long before the delicious aromas woke up my sleeping family.

A few minutes later Mom wandered into the kitchen. “What’s the occasion?” Still in her bathrobe, she blinked at the kitchen clock. “You’re up early.”

“I have to be at work in about an hour,” I said. “But I wanted time to visit before I left.”

She looked at me quizzically. “Need any help?”

“No,” I said. “Sit. Let me take care of you this time.”

She sat, and turned the newspaper around to read. “Anything I should be aware of in here?”

“We’re flying under the radar today,” I said in a cheery tone. “So far, so good.”

I poured her a cup of coffee and set out the half-and-half. “So . . .” I said.

She dragged her attention away from the newspaper. “So?”

I was at the counter, half facing her. Taking a breath, I messed with some of the waffle fixings and said, “I was out of line yesterday.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then: “Yes, you were.”

“I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

“I know,” she said, turning back to the news. “And you should be.”

I sprinkled powdered sugar over a strawberry-topped waffle and placed it in front of her. “Did you want blueberries? Bananas?”

“No. This is just perfect.”

Strawberries were always Mom’s favorite. At least some things hadn’t changed. “Whipped cream?”

She laughed. “You trying to fatten me up?”

“No, just trying to apologize.”

“Sit.”

I grabbed my own fruit-topped waffle and joined her at the table.

“Ollie,” she said, gently, “I had a wonderful day out yesterday.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Really, I am,” I said. “I don’t know what—”

She shushed me with a look. “You and I both know that when this vacation comes to an end, Nana and I will be headed back to our trivial lives in Chicago.”

“Trivial?” I shook my head. “You do so much—”

“Shh,”
she said with force. “My life is good, for me. But it’s . . . little. I’m not surrounded by the most important people in the world like you are. You see and hear and do things most of us only dream of.”

“That doesn’t make what you do
un
important.”

“True, but what you don’t seem to understand is that while I’m here, I get to share a little bit of your life. And Kap . . .” Her eyes went all dreamy for a moment. “He’s part of that. He’s interesting—different.” She laughed. “And sexy.”

I felt my face redden.

She laughed again and playfully tapped my hand. “All I want is to have fun,” she said. “I don’t get a lot of fun back home.”

I nodded. Regret at my attitude from the day before soured my stomach. I looked down at the uneaten waffle and changed my mind about it. “I really am sorry,” I said again.

“And you’re forgiven,” she said. “I do understand, you know. I remember when Nana went out on a couple dates.”

“Nana dated?”

As if summoned, my grandmother appeared in the doorway. “Damn right I did,” she said, sniffing the air and eyeing my plate. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you about all the ones that got away.”

“Ones?” I asked. “Plural?”

Nana lowered herself into the chair opposite mine. “You going to eat that, or you going to stare at it all morning?”

I pushed the heaping plate across the table. “For you.”

She dug in as I stood up. With a hand on my mother’s shoulder, I reached down to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

 

 

Much to my relief, Howard Liss was not on the morning Metro train. Not that I’d expected him to be up and about this early. Most people weren’t.

That’s why it was such a surprise to get a voicemail beep when the train came aboveground at Arlington Cemetery. My phone had been off overnight but I’d turned it back on before leaving the apartment. That meant that whoever called had done so in the past few minutes. Maybe it was Mom or Nana.

The train slowed, then stopped to load new passengers at Arlington. As a lone person boarded the car in front of the one I was in, I took the opportunity to access my message: “Olivia,” came the breathless voice. “This is Howard Liss. You must call me as soon as you get this. I’m sure your phone has a redial feature, but don’t use that one. Use my private line.” He provided the number, but I didn’t even consider writing it down. At the same time, the Metro started moving again. “This is of the utmost importance.” I heard him take a breath, before repeating: “
Utmost
. I know you think you should not contact me. But if I don’t hear from you by mid-morning, I will move forward to make public that relationship we discussed. I know you—”

And just like that, I lost the signal.

I swore.

The two other riders in my car looked up.

I lifted a hand in apology. “Sorry.”

One returned to his newspaper. The other leaned against the window and closed his eyes.

Just what I needed. More Howard Liss. Why on earth was he contacting me, anyway? What good could I possibly do him? “That relationship we discussed . . .” The creep. He was lucky I couldn’t get a signal. Otherwise I would have called him back immediately just to burst his little bubble.

The train ride to MacPherson Square took an interminably long time. I’m usually the kind of person who stews about something before issuing a retaliatory response. Tom used to call me a little volcano. By the time I made it to the street level and pulled out my phone, I’d built up such a head of steam that I could barely contain myself. Somebody had to zip this guy’s mouth shut, and I felt like just the person to do it.

I punched the redial button. He answered on the first ring. “Howard Liss.”

“This is Olivia Paras,” I said briskly. I had rehearsed a whole slew of powerful opening lines, but what came out was: “How dare you threaten me?”

He made a gurgling noise. “Oh, yes. Hello.”

I pressed the phone tight against my ear. “All you can say is ‘Hello’? After leaving me a threatening message, you can only say, ‘Hello’?”

He dropped his voice. “You weren’t supposed to call on this number.”

“Oh, yes,” I said loudly as I strode south toward the White House. “That, too. What do you think I am, some simpleton? Just because I was involved in a couple of”—I lost my intensity for a moment, thinking about my involvement in other situations—“incidents at the White House, doesn’t mean that I care to participate in your crazy schemes. And I don’t—”

“Please,” he said, interrupting me. “Can you call me back on that other number?”

What the heck was wrong with this guy? Convinced he was even more touched in the head than I’d originally assumed, I was tempted to hang up. But I couldn’t. No matter the state of his mind, this fellow held the power to mess up my life. And Tom’s career. Before I hung up, I knew I had to impart one very important piece of information.