Ransome Baldwin, all six feet five inches, thick white hair and baritone voice, made his rounds, solidly shaking hands with politicians he already owned and rubbing elbows with the few he didn’t as yet.
The award ceremony had been mercifully brief. Jack glanced at his watch. He would need to be getting back to the office soon. On the way over Jennifer had mentioned a private party at the Willard Hotel at eleven. He rubbed his face. Of all the friggin’ luck.
He was about to pull Jennifer aside to explain his early exit, when the President walked up to her, was joined by her father, and a moment later all three headed his way.
Jack put his drink down and cleared his throat so he wouldn’t sound like a complete fool when the words stumbled out of his mouth. Jennifer and her father were talking to the President like old friends. Laughing, chatting, touching elbows like he was cousin Ned in from Oklahoma. But this wasn’t cousin Ned, this was the President of the United States for godsakes!
“So you’re the lucky fellow?” The President’s smile was immediate and pleasant. They shook hands. He was as tall as Jack, and Jack admired that he had kept trim and fit with a job like his.
“Jack Graham, Mr. President. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
“I feel like I already know you, Jack, Jennifer’s told me so much about you. Most of it good.” He grinned.
“Jack’s a partner at Patton, Shaw & Lord.” Jennifer still held on to the President’s arm. She looked at Jack and smiled a cutesy smile.
“Well, not a partner yet, Jenn.”
“Matter of time is all.” Ransome Baldwin’s voice boomed out. “With Baldwin Enterprises as a client, you could name your price at any firm in this country. Don’t you forget that. Don’t let Sandy Lord pull the wool over your eyes.”
“Listen to him, Jack. The voice of experience.” The President raised his glass and then involuntarily jerked it back. Jennifer stumbled, letting go of his arm.
“I’m sorry, Jennifer. Too much tennis. Damn arm’s giving me problems again. Well, Ransome, you look like you’ve got yourself a fine protégé here.”
“Hell, he’ll have to fight my daughter for the empire. Maybe Jack can be queen and Jenn can be the king. How’s that for equal rights?” Ransome laughed a big laugh that swept everybody up with it.
Jack felt himself redden. “I’m just a lawyer, Ransome; I’m not necessarily looking for an empty throne to occupy. There are other things to do in life.”
Jack picked up his drink. This wasn’t exactly going as well as he would have liked. He felt on the defensive. Jack crunched an ice cube. And what did Ransome Baldwin really think about his future son-in-law? Especially right now? The point was Jack didn’t really care.
Ransome stopped laughing and eyed him steadily. Jennifer cocked her head the way she did when he said something she thought was inappropriate, which was most of the time. The President looked at all three of them, smiled quickly and excused himself. He went over to the corner where a woman was standing.
Jack watched him go. He had seen the woman on TV, defending the President’s position on a myriad of issues. Gloria Russell did not look very happy right now, but with all the crises in the world, happiness was probably a rare commodity in her line of work.
That was an afterthought. Jack had met the President, had shaken hands with him. He hoped his arm got better. He pulled Jennifer aside and made his regrets. She was not pleased.
“This is totally unacceptable, Jack. Do you realize how special a night this is for Daddy?”
“Hey, I’m just a working stiff. You know? Billable hours?”
“That’s ridiculous! And you know it. No one at that firm can make those demands of you, let alone some nothing associate.”
“Jenn, it’s not that big a deal. I had a great time. Your dad got his little award. Now it’s time to go back to work. Alvis is okay. He’s kicking my butt a little bit, but he works just as hard, if not harder than I do. Everybody has to take their lumps.”
“This isn’t fair, Jack. This is not convenient for me.”
“Jenn, it’s my job. I said don’t worry about it, so don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m gonna grab a cab back.”
“Daddy will be very disappointed.”
“Daddy won’t even miss me. Hey, hoist one for me. And remember what you said about later? I’ll take a rain check on that, maybe we can make it my place for a change?”
She allowed herself to be kissed. But when Jack was gone she stormed over to her father.
Chapter Five
Kate Whitney pulled into the parking lot of her building. The grocery bag clunked against one leg, her overflowing briefcase against the other as she jogged up the four flights of stairs. Buildings in her price range had elevators, just not ones that worked on a consistent basis.
She changed quickly into her running outfit, checked her messages, and headed back out. She stretched the cramps and kinks out of her long limbs in front of the Ulysses S. Grant statue and started her run.
She headed west, past the Air and Space Museum, and then by the Smithsonian castle that, with its towers and battlements and twelfth-century-style Italian architecture, looked more like a mad scientist’s home than anything else. Her easy, methodical strides took her across the Mall at its widest point and she circled the Washington Monument twice.
Her breath was coming a little quicker now; the sweat began to seep through her T-shirt and blot the Georgetown Law sweatshirt she was wearing. As she made her way along the fringes of the Tidal Basin, the crowds of people grew thicker. The early fall brought plane-, bus- and carloads of people from across the country hoping to miss the summer crush of tourists and the infamous Washington heat.
As she swerved to avoid one errant child she collided with another runner coming the other way. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
“Shit.” The man rolled over quickly and then sprang back up. She started to get up, looked at him, an apology on her lips, and then abruptly sat back down. A long moment went by as camera-toting clans of Arkansans and Iowans danced around them.
“Hello, Kate.” Jack gave her a hand up and helped her to a spot under one of the now bare cherry blossom trees that encircled the Tidal Basin. The Jefferson Memorial sat big and imposing across the calm water, the tall silhouette of the country’s third President clearly visible inside the rotunda.
Kate’s ankle was starting to swell. She took off her shoe and sock and began to rub it out.
“I didn’t think you’d have time to run anymore, Jack.”
She looked over at him: no receding hairline, no paunch, no lines on the face. Time had stood still for Jack Graham. She had to admit it, he looked great. She, on the other hand, was an absolute and total disaster.
She silently cursed herself for not getting that haircut and then cursed herself again for even thinking that. A drop of sweat plunged down her nose, and she brushed it away with an irritable swipe of her hand.
“I was wondering the same thing about you. I didn’t think they let prosecutors go home before midnight. Slacking off?”
“Right.” She rubbed her ankle, which really hurt. He saw the pain, leaned over and took her foot in his hands. She flinched back. He looked at her.
“Remember I used to almost do this for a living and you were my best and only client. I have never seen a woman with such fragile ankles, and the rest of you looks so healthy.”