“Yeah, but why would he do that?”
“God knows. He’s not the world’s greatest admirer of my wife. They’ve had a few disagreements over the years. But liking people has nothing to do with politics. In this life, if you stay with only people you like, the normal person would have to move every ten days. Politics is advantageous loyalty, son. Loyalty is what you buy, with every word out of your mouth; loyalty is what you sell, with every choice you make. And when you sell loyalty, you’d better make sure your choice is to your own advantage. James sold out twenty-two years of loyalty to me for the dubious twelve-hour pleasure of embarrassing my wife in public.”
Listening, Fletch had wandered to every part of the living room. The governor’s shoes were not anywhere in the room.
“If Mrs. Wheeler had to cancel an appointment, she had to cancel an appointment, and that’s all there is to it. If you don’t know what our daily schedule looks like, feels like yet, you will within a few days.” The governor lowered his voice. “If you stay with us, that is.”
“I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“I understand the job of press secretary is to keep paintin’ the picket fence around the main house. Just keep paintin’ it. Whatever’s goin’ on inside, the outside is to look pretty.”
The governor smiled. “The question is, Mr. I. M. Fletcher …” The governor took a cigar stub from the pocket of his robe and lit it. “By the way, what does I.M. stand for?”
“Irwin Maurice.”
“No wonder you choose to be called Fletch. The question is, Mr. Irwin Maurice ‘Fletch’ Fletcher—have I got it all right?”
“Tough on the tongue, isn’t it?”
“The question is”—the governor brushed tobacco off a lower tooth —“what do you believe in?”
“You,” Fletch said with alacrity. “And your wife. And your campaign. Is that the answer you want?”
“Not bad.” The governor squinted at him over the cigar smoke. “For a start. Why do you want to work on this campaign?”
“Because Walsh asked me. He said you need me.”
“And you were between jobs …”
“Working on a book.”
“You got the money to take time off and work on a book?”
“Enough.”
“Where’d you get the money?”
“You can save a lot of money by not smoking.”
“What do you think of my domestic policy?”
“Needs refining.”
“What do you think of my foreign policy?”
“Needs a few good ideas.”
The governor’s grin was like seeing a chasm open in the earth. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’re an idealist. You mean to be a good influence on me.”
“Maybe.”
The governor looked at him sharply and seemed to be serious when he asked: “And do you have any good ideas?”
“Just one, for now.”
“And what would that be?”
“To be loyal to you.” Fletch grinned. “Until I get a better offer. Isn’t that what you just said politics is all about?”
Scraping the ash off his cigar onto a tray, the governor said, “You learn fast enough. . . .”
4
“Where’s Dr. Thom?”
“Coming right up.”
“I want to go to sleep.”
Walsh Wheeler had entered his father’s suite without knocking. Fletch saw that Walsh knew the door was unlocked.
In the living room, Walsh handed his father a piece of paper from the top of the sheaf he was carrying. “Here’s your schedule for tomorrow.”
The governor dropped the paper on the table without looking at it.
Walsh handed Fletch two sheets of paper, one from the top of the pile, one from the bottom. “Here’s Dad’s schedule for tomorrow… and Mother’s schedule for tomorrow. Have these copied and under the door of every member of the press by six in the morning. All the press are on the eighth floor of this motel.”
“Is there no one on the eighth floor but members of the press?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. No reason why you shouldn’t deliver to every door on the eighth floor. We’re not trying to keep Dad’s whereabouts a secret. Leave some downstairs on the reception desk, too. And have some on you to hand out to the local press.” Walsh poured out two Scotches with soda and handed one to Fletch. “Oh, yeah. At the back of the campaign bus there’s a copying machine. For your use and your use alone.” Walsh smiled at his father. “James’s first major press announcement was that if any member of the press touched his copying machine, James would disarm him or her—literally.” Walsh sipped his drink. “Maybe you should make the same announcement.”
“Don’t tell Fletch to do anything the way ol’ James did it. One thing might lead to another.”
“A copying machine and a quick wit,” Walsh said. “That’s all you need to be a press representative, right?”
“He’s got a quick wit,” the governor said. “He makes me laugh.”
“Oh, yeah.” Walsh sat next to the best reading lamp. He made himself look comfortable, legs crossed, drink in hand, papers in lap. “How do you guys like each other so far?”
The governor looked at Fletch and Fletch looked at the governor.
“Don’t know how the press will accept him,” the governor said. “Fletch looks like breakfast to someone with a hangover.”
Smiling, Walsh looked up at Fletch. “What do you think, Fletch?”
“Well,” Fletch drawled, “I think Governor Caxton Wheeler can get this country moving again.”
“I believe it!” Walsh laughed.
“I’ll say one thing,” the governor chuckled. “There’s been so much cow dung on the floor since he came into the room, I had to take off my store-bought shoes!”
Fletch looked from one to the other. “Where are your shoes?” he asked.
Father and son continued their moment of easy, genuine admiration, love for each other, enjoyment in each other.
Fletch sat down.
“Okay, Dad, let’s go over your schedule for tomorrow, just quickly. We’ve only got a few days before the primary in this state. We’ve got a real chance to win, but we haven’t won yet. Without killing you, we’ve got to make the best use of your time.”
Slowly, the governor sat up and took the schedule in his hands. He yawned. His cigar stub was burned out in the ashtray.
“Seven forty-five,” Walsh said, “you’ll be at the main gate at the tire factory. These guys are worried about two things: foreign import of tires, of course; and they’re afraid their union bosses will call a strike sometime in April.”
“Union boss name?” the governor asked.
“Wohlman. By the way, Wohlman’s wife has just left him, and some of the membership say this is making him act meaner and tougher toward management than they want.”
Dully, the governor said: “Oh.”
“At eight-thirty, you’re having coffee with Wohlman, first name Bruce, and …”
Only glancing at the items on the governor’s schedule for next day, Fletch listened. Walsh seemed the perfect aide. He had the answers to most questions the governor asked. “Where’s breakfast?” “There will be a breakfast box on the bus.” He made notes to get the answers he did not know. “How far does a farm family have to go to get to a medical facility ’round there?” “I’ll find out.” Walsh did not balk at taking anything on himself. And he was not insistent, but gently urging when the governor began to balk. “Why am I at Conroy School at ten o’clock? I keep telling you, Walsh, ten-year-olds don’t vote. Isn’t there some better use of my time this close to the primary?” “Their parents do, Dad, and so do the teachers, and all their relatives. And they’re all more interested in the future generation and education than they are in bank failures in Zaire. That’s what they’re living and working for.” “I’ll be late for the downtown rally in Winslow. Then I’ll have to do more I-couldn’t-find-my-toothbrush jokes.” “We’ll have a band playing until you get there.” Sitting on the divan, the governor seemed to get more old, fat, and tired as the session went on.