Ginny wins, we win it all. But we need people.”
“Then we’ll get them,” Keith said evenly.
Milo’s nod was solemn, but halfway down the hall, he did a little side kick of happiness.
I turned to Keith. “Looks like he’s glad you’re here,” I said. “By the way, is Milo certifiable?”
Keith chuckled. “Everybody in this business is. But he gets the job done, and as you know, a political campaign is not exactly Plato’s symposium.”
As if to underscore the point, when Keith and I walked into the kitchen, Ginny had her head in the refrigerator. She was still responding to interviewer’s questions and still trying to put together her breakfast. When she heard Keith’s voice, she turned, waved, then reached in and extracted a litre of milk. She answered a question about her sex life, opened the milk, sniffed, made a face, checked the best-before date, and poured the milk down the sink. Milo watched the action and gallantly offered Ginny the rest of his Crispy Crunch. By my count, it was his third since I arrived.
Keith poured himself coffee and sat down at the table. “Okay, the fun’s over,” he said. “Milo, where are we?”
“No longer beached on shit creek,” Milo said. “The custody thing helped big-time.” He chomped his bar. “Two problems: time and bodies. E-Day is fourteen days away and the only volunteers we’ve got left can’t leave home without their Depends or their nitro – sorry, Keith.”
Keith made a faint gesture of dismissal, and Milo barrelled on. “Anyway, we need a media blitz, but the ads Ginny’s got now are shit – worse yet, they’re generic shit. Ginny’s gotta go for specificity. If she’s gonna win Palliser, she needs to get our core group of Christian family-values wackos to the polls and she needs to appeal to the spoiled brats with the renovated houses in Old Lakeview and the Crescents. That means the campaign needs bodies and it needs new ads, and that means money quick and on the table. Again, and for the record, I think we can win this thing, but we have to move fast.”
Keith handed him a list of names and numbers. “I drew this up on the way out. Call and tell them to be on the next plane.”
Milo glanced at the list. “Half of these people are from Ontario.”
“From safe seats in Ontario.”
“It’s going to cost serious money to get them out here.”
“Elections are about serious money.”
“True enough,” Milo said. “I’ll find me a little corner and start dialing. What about the media buys?”
“Get what you need. We’ll cover it.”
Ginny ended her call, flicked off her phone, and joined us.
“So, how’s it going, kiddo?” Keith asked, and I could hear the affection in his voice.
Ginny went over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Better now that you’re here,” she said. The moment passed quickly. She straightened up and went to the chair opposite him. “Jason’s withdrawal seems to have shifted the winds. When the custody question hit court, there was a sense that where there was smoke, there was fire. For the last few weeks the smoke’s been hovering over me, but now, Jason’s the one under suspicion.” She picked up the muffin she’d buttered ten minutes earlier and took a bite. “There’s speculation that my ex has a few nasty skeletons in his closet,” she said carefully.
Keith cocked his head. “Does he?”
An odd expression flickered across Ginny’s face. “Everybody does,” she said tightly. “But when it came to the girls, Jason was always on the side of the angels.”
“No use letting that get out,” Keith said. “We did some polling last night, Ginny. Character is still an issue for you.”
Ginny looked at her muffin with distaste. “This tastes like gerbil droppings. So how do I deal with the fact that the good people of Palliser think there have been too many men in my bed since Jason and I split up?”
Keith turned to me. “Any thoughts?”
I raised my hand in a halt gesture. “Uh-uh,” I said. “I’m here as an observer.”
“If you weren’t an observer, how would you handle it?” Keith asked.
“I’d get Ginny on Jack Quinlan’s radio program. Everybody listens to it, and he’s sympathetic to your side. He’ll let Ginny deal with the character issue head-on, but he won’t kill her with it. Apart from that, put her into as many soft situations as you can: arrange for photos of her at daycares, old folks’ homes, women’s shelters. Show that she has a heart and remind people that she has a record supporting programs for women and kids and seniors. Also have her spend as much time as possible with her daughters between now and E-Day.” I extended my hand, palm up to Keith. “Now, give me a loonie for anything I suggested that you didn’t think of.”
Keith handed me a loonie. “There wasn’t anything, but it’s always fun listening to your ideas.” He turned to Ginny. “Why don’t you call Quinlan yourself? Tell him you want his show to be your first live interview since the custody was resolved.”
“Jack does his show from Saskatoon,” Ginny said. “If I’m going to be on today, it’ll have to be a phone in.”
“Uh-uh,” I said. “Quinlan likes face to face. Ginny, tell him you’ll fly up there this morning.”
Ginny picked up her cell, called Information, punched in the numbers, and began talking. When she was done, she rang off. “The producer’s delighted,” she said. “So we’ll take the next flight up, and go live in the second hour.” It took her a minute to realize Em and Chloe had come into the room. She smiled at her daughters. “God, I’d almost forgotten you were here,” she said.
The twins were identical, but I knew instinctively that the one who stepped forward and spoke was Em. “Probably best if you don’t say that too often till the election’s over,” she said. The girls exchanged a private smile. They were poised young women. The twin who’d spoken first performed the introductions. “I’m Emma Brodnitz,” she said. “And this is my sister, Chloe.”
Keith nodded at them. “We met the last time I was here. I went to one of your basketball games. Let’s see,” he said, pointing to Emma. “You’re the shooting guard,” and he pointed to Chloe, “You are the point guard.”
The girls exchanged glances. “You’ve got it backwards,” they said in unison.
“Guess it’s lucky I’m not the one running for office,” Keith said. “This is Joanne… do you go by Shreve?”
“Depends on the situation,” I said. “But Joanne is fine.” I shifted in my chair to face the girls. “My daughter Taylor is going to Luther next year, so we’ve been watching the Lions with interest. You had a great season.”
“Did you get to a game?” Emma asked.
“No. But I promise I’ll be a regular next year.”
“Come tonight. It’s a charity game for Ranch Ehrlo,” she said. “Bring your daughter. We’re playing Sheldon. They’re solid, so it should be a good game.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
“Luther gym. Seven o’clock.” It was the first time Chloe had spoken. “Get there early if you don’t want to climb up to the top of the bleachers.”
“How would you feel about your mother coming?” Keith asked.
Emma’s tone was derisive. “Why not? It’ll be a great photo op.”
Ginny ignored the slight. She walked over to her daughters and draped an arm around each of them. The three women – all rangy and athletic – made an appealing triptych. “Want me to ask Milo to make a run to the Great Canadian Bagel before school? Our choices here seem to be mouldy muffins and outdated milk.”
“Thanks, but Chloe and I have a secret stash,” Em said. She opened the freezer compartment and pulled out a plastic sack of bagels. “Whole wheat and multi-grain. Want one?”
“A multi-grain,” Ginny said. “Thanks.”
Em offered the bag around. “Anybody else?” As the girls toasted their bagels and poured juice, the meeting continued. I took notes. When the girls were through eating, they excused themselves.
“You don’t have to leave,” Ginny said. “You’re not in our way.”
Emma’s expression was too cynical for a girl her age. “Sure we are,” she said. Then she and Chloe vanished.
