Sheila smiled the smile of a child. 'Well, with any luck, depending on the actual pathology, we can have the great Dr. Bennett read a benign condition as a malignancy. Then, when the whole specimen is taken and examined the next day, her mistake will become apparent.'
'Would a pathologist make a mistake like that? ' Reese asked. Again Sheila smiled. 'Only once, ' she said serenely. 'Only once.' + Louisburg Square, a score of tall, brick townhouses surrounding a raggedy, wrought-iron- fenced green on the west side of Beacon Hill, had been the address in Boston for generations. Levi Morton lived there after his four years as vice president under Benjamin Harrison. Jennie Lind was married there in 1852. Cabots and Saltonstalls, Lodges and Alcotts-alll had drawn from and given to the mystique of Louisburg Square. Kate had the cab drop her off at the foot of Mount Vernon Street, she used the steep two-block walk to Louisburg Square to stretch her legs and clear her thoughts of what had been a long and trying day at the hospital. Two committee meetings, several surgical specimens, and a lecture at the medical school, combined with half a dozen malicious phone calls and an equal number of hate letters, all relating to her callous treatment of Bobby Geary and his family. Ellen's nose had begun bleeding again-just a slow trickle from one nostril, but enough to require Pete Colangelo to recauterize it. Her clotting parameters were continuing to take a significant drop each day, and the unencouraging news was beginning to take a toll on her spirit. Late that afternoon, the National Institutes of Health library computer search had arrived. There were many articles listed in the bibliography dealing with sclerosing diseases of the ovaries, and a goodly number on clotting disorders similar to the Boston cases. There were none, however, describing their coexistence in a single patient. Expecting little, Kate had begun the tedious process of locating each article, photocopying it, and finally studying it. The project would take days to complete, if not longer, but there was a chance at least that something, anything, might turn up that could help Ellen. At the turnoff from Mount Vernon Street, Kate propped herself against a gaslight lamp post and through the mist of her own breath, reflected on the marvelous Christmas card that was Louisburg Square.
Single, orange-bulbed candles glowed from nearly every townhouse window.
Tasteful wreaths marked each door. Christmas trees had been carefully placed to augment the scene without intruding on it. Having, season after season, observed the stolid elegance of Louisburg Square, Kate had no difficulty understanding why, shortly after the death of his agrarian wife, Winfield Samuels had sold their gentleman's farm and stables in Sudbury and had bought there. The two-the address and the man-were made for one another. Somewhat reluctantly, she mounted the granite steps of her father-in-law's home, eschewed the enormous brass knocker, and pressed the bell. In seconds, the door was opened by a trim, extremely attractive brunette, no more than two or three years Kate's senior. Dressed in a gold blouse and dark straight skirt, she looked every bit the part of the executive secretary, which, in fact, she had at one time been. 'Kate, welcome, ' she said warmly. 'Come in. Let me take your coat.'
'I've got it, thanks. You look terrific, Jocelyn. Is that a new hairstyle?'
'A few months old. Thanks for noticing. You're looking well yourself.'
Kate wondered if perhaps she and Jocelyn Trent could collaborate on a chapter for Amy Vanderbilt or Emily Post, 'Proper Conversation Between a Daughter-in-law and her Father-in-law's Mistress When the Father-in-law in Question Refuses to Acknowledge the Woman as Anything Other Than a Housekeeper.'
'Mr. Samuels will be down in a few minutes, ' Jocelyn said. 'There's a nice fire going in the study. He'll meet you there. Dinner will be in half an hour. Can I fix you a drink?'
Mr. Samuels. The inappropriate formality made Kate queasy. At seven o'clock, the woman would serve to Mr. Samuels and his guest the gourmet dinner she had prepared, then she would go and eat in the kitchen. At eleven or twelve o'clock, after the house was quiet and dark, she would slip into his room and stay as long as she was asked, always careful to return to her own quarters before any houseguest awoke. Mr. Samuels, indeed. 'Sure, ' said Kate, following the woman to the study. 'Better make it something stiff. As you can tell from your houseguest the last few days, things have not been going too well in my world.'
Jocelyn smiled understandingly. 'For what it's worth, ' she said, 'I don't think Jared is very pleased with the arrangement either.'
'I appreciate hearing that, Jocelyn. Thank you. I'll tell you, on any given Sunday in any given ballpark, marriage can trounce any team in the league.' When she could detach the woman from her position, Kate liked her very much and enjoyed the occasional one-to-one conversations they were able to share. 'I know, ' Jocelyn said. 'I tried it once, myself.
For me it was all of the responsibility, none of the pleasure.' The words were said lightly, but Kate heard in them perhaps an explanation of sorts, a plea for understanding and acceptance. Better to be owned than to be used. Kate took the bourbon and water and watched as Jocelyn Trent returned to the kitchen. The woman had, she knew, a wardrobe several times the size of her own, a remarkable silver fox coat, and a stylish Alfa coupe. If this be slavery, she thought with a smile, then give me slavery. It was, as promised, several minutes before Winfield Samuels made his entrance. Kate waited by the deep, well-used fireplace, rearranging the fringe on the Persian rug with the toe of her shoe and trying to avoid eye contact with any of the big-game heads mounted on the wall. Samuels had sent Jared away on business-purposely, he made it sound — so that he and Kate could spend some time alone together talking over 'issues of mutual concern.' Before her marriage, they had met on several occasions for such talks, but since, their time together had always included Jared. Samuels had given no hint over the phone as to what the 'issues' this time might be, but the separation-causes and cures-was sure to be high on the list. Kate was reading a citation of commendation and gratitude from the governor when the recipient entered the room. 'Kate, welcome, ' Win Samuels said. 'I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice.' They embraced with hands on shoulders and exchanged air kisses. 'Sit down, please. We have, ' he consulted his watch, 'twenty-three minutes before dinner.'
Twenty-three minutes. Kate had to hand it to the man. Dinner at seven did not mean dinner at seven-oh- three. It was expected that the stunning cook cum housekeeper cum mistress would be right on time. 'Thank you,' she said. 'It's good to see you again. You look great.'
The compliment was not exaggeration. In his twill smoking jacket and white silk scarf, Samuels looked like most men nearing seventy could only dream of looking. 'Rejuvenate that drink? ' Samuels asked, motioning her to one of a pair of matched leather easy chairs by the hearth. 'Only if you're prepared to resuscitate me.'
Samuels laughed and drew himself a bourbon and soda. 'You're quite a woman, Kate, ' he said, settling in across from her. 'Jared is lucky to have nabbed you.'
'Actually, I did most of the nabbing.'
'This… this little disagreement you two are having. It will blow over before you know it. Probably has already.'
'The empty half of my bed wouldn't attest to that, ' Kate said. Samuels slid a cigar from a humidor by his chair, considered it for a moment, and then returned it. 'Bad for the taste buds this close to dinner, particularly with Jocelyn's duck l'orange on the menu.'
'She's a very nice woman, ' Kate ventured. Samuels nodded. 'Does a good job around here, ' he said in an absurdly businesslike tone. 'Damn good job.' He paused. 'I'm a direct man, Kate. Some people say too direct, but I don't give a tinker's damn about them. Suppose I get right to the business at hand.'
'You mean this wasn't just a social invitation?'
Samuels was leaping to equivocate when he saw the smile in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. 'Do you zing Jared like this, too? ' he asked. Kate smiled proudly and nodded. They laughed, but Kate felt no letup in the tension between them. 'Kate, ' he continued, 'I've accomplished the things I've accomplished, gained the things I've gained, because I was brought up to believe that we are never given a wish or a dream without also being given the wherewithal to make that dream, that wish, a reality. Do you share that belief?'
Kate shrugged. 'I believe there are times when it's okay to wish and try and fail.'
'Perhaps, ' he said thoughtfully. 'Perhaps there are. Anyhow, at this stage in my life, I have two overriding dreams. Both of them involve my son and, therefore, by extension, you.'
'Go on.'
'Kate, I want a grandchild, hopefully more than one, and I want my son to serve in the United States Congress. Those are my dreams, and I am willing to do anything within my power to help them come to pass.'
'Why? ' Kate asked. 'Why?'
'Yes. I understand the grandchild wish. Continuation of the family, stability for Jared's home life, new blood and new energy, that sort of thing, but why the other one?'
'Because I feel Jared would be a credit to himself, to the state, and to the country.'
