A few silent moments passed, during which Patrick waited with curious anticipation. Fenton was sipping his wine. Mercer was staring into his glass of sparkling water.
At last, he looked up, swallowing as if he’d steeled himself to broach a very difficult topic.
What came next was the last thing Patrick had expected.
“Your niece-Amanda-how is her baby doing?”
Fenton set down his wineglass. For the first time in this conversation, he showed a strong emotional reaction. “Not well.” A muscle twitched at his jaw. “Amanda’s son is losing this battle a little more every day. I’m not sure he can hang on much longer.”
There was steel in his tone. Clearly, he was furious-whether at the situation, the doctors, or his own inability to fix things, Patrick wasn’t sure.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Mercer replied-carefully, as if he were walking a very fine tightrope.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Cliff. I need more.”
The almost-military command made the congressman do a double take. “More? What more can I offer you? You don’t need my money…”
“No, I don’t.” Fenton stopped him in his tracks. “I need a donor match. And I need one now.” He leaned forward, interlacing his fingers tightly in front of him. “Amanda’s hired some investigative firm to find out if Paul Everett is alive and to hunt him down. We both know I can’t wait for that to happen. I need you to be tested. Immediately.”
Mercer did another double take. “Why? To sidetrack Amanda from searching for Everett?”
“You know damned well why-and why you could quite possibly be a match. Besides, my reasons aren’t in question. The bottom line is, my great-nephew is my last shot to hand my business empire over to blood. I’m not going to lose it. So just do what I say.”
“And how will I justify my sudden involvement-not only to the world, but to Mary Jane?”
“Easily. It’s not as if I’m a stranger. I’ve had dinner in your house, been a strong supporter of your career since the beginning. Your wife is very fond of me. She knows the crisis my niece is going through. Tell her how desperate Amanda is. Tell the same thing to your constituents. Hell, make a public announcement. Remember, Amanda is a local herself. The fact that her congressman would care enough to extend himself in such a personal and meaningful way would earn you a shitload of votes for the next election. And, for God’s sake, we’re only talking about a blood test. I’m not asking you to donate an organ.”
A long pause as Mercer considered Fenton’s words.
“I’m not asking you, Cliff. I’m telling you. Consider the scenario I’ve just conjured up for you to be a bonus gift. But the testing itself is a given. You’ll have it done at Southampton Hospital, where you can get maximum exposure for your act of compassion. You’ll be flying back with me tonight and tested tomorrow in plenty of time for the evening news cycle. That’ll give your Chief of Staff all of today and tonight to get the word out. I also want the twins to be tested. They can do that at their respective schools. There’ll be goodwill stretching from Long Island to California.”
“The twins?” Mercer sounded ill. “How do I explain that?”
“There’s nothing to explain. You’ve got an altruistic family. Mary Jane included. Let her go with you and be tested herself. She’s a loving mother. She’s devoted eighteen years to raising your kids. She’ll probably race you to the hospital tomorrow. Think how compelling the front page of the Southampton newspapers will look with your photos front and center.”
“God.” Mercer pressed his fingers to his temples. “How am I going to pull this off? No matter how you spin it, there are going to be questions.”
“Field them. That’s what you have a staff for. Say you became aware of the urgency of the situation when we had our business meeting today.” A quick glance around. “We’re having lunch on Capitol Hill, Cliff. Half of Washington probably already knows we’re together, and wondering what we’re discussing. Now they’ll know. We discussed your support for Fenton Dredging Company’s commitment to the Hamptons communities. After that, you asked about Justin. I told you. You immediately contacted your family and took action.” Fenton gave an impatient wave of his hand. “I might as well be your campaign manager at this point. I’ve just written the whole script for you. Now do it.”
Mercer’s mind was visibly racing. “I’ve got meetings tomorrow morning.”
“Move them to late afternoon. You’ll be back in plenty of time. My jet will get you here.” Fenton took a bite of his crab cake. “Now eat your lunch. Make your phone calls. We can talk business on the plane.”
“Sir?”
Patrick’s concentration was broken as he realized the waiter was talking to him, and apparently had been for the past minute or two. “Is everything all right?”
With a swift glance at his barely eaten burger, Patrick nodded. “Excellent. I was just absorbed in my work. But now I have all the important aspects of it under control. So I can sit back and enjoy my lunch.”
He did just that, texting Casey as he ate. The phone call would come later, when he was back at his hotel and had some privacy.
But, damn, it felt good to finally make some headway.
And major headway at that.
CHAPTER TEN
Casey was perched at the edge of Ryan’s desk, scratching Hero’s ears and gripping her phone as she prepared to hear Marc’s update, when Patrick beeped in.
“Hang on a sec,” she told Marc. “Let me see what’s going on in D.C.”
She switched calls. “Patrick. I got your cryptic text message. Now tell me, what did you find?”
“Nothing at breakfast. A windfall at lunch.”
“Well, now I’m screwed,” Casey replied. “I’ve got both you and Marc on the phone simultaneously, and each of you has a significant update. Who goes first?”
“Talk to Marc,” Patrick answered quickly. “I’m done here. I’m at the airport, about to jump on a plane. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Can the information wait till then?”
“Yeah. Besides, it has to. I need Ryan there when I review it with you. Is he in the office?”
“Yes.” Casey glanced at Ryan, who was still staring at his monitor, this time delving into John Morano’s employment history to see where he’d worked previously so as to determine how he’d managed to amass such large sums of money. “He’s here. I’m sitting in his lair right now. But I won’t be for long.”
“Why not? I need your insights and Ryan’s eye.”
“Can you get my insights by phone?”
“I suppose so. Why?”
“Because I’m about to leave for the Hamptons. Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Let me get back to Marc so we can make plans. Fly safe.” Casey switched lines again. “Hey, Marc. Patrick’s on his way home with information he sounds very hyped up about.”
“I’ll be back at the office by then,” Marc replied. “I’m grabbing something to eat at Simon’s Beach Bakery Cafe. You remember it. It’s that place with the yellow awning right down the street from Amanda’s place.”
“I remember. I also remember that it’s a spot Amanda mentioned where she and Paul ate pretty often.”
“I can see why,” Marc informed her drily. “The pastries look amazing. I’ll do a hundred extra push-ups tonight. But it’ll be worth it.”
“Eat as many pastries as you want. You’ll have the time. You’re not leaving Westhampton just yet. I’m meeting you out there. We have a date with Lyle Fenton tonight.”
“We do?”
“We will as soon as I talk to Amanda. I’m heading for the hospital now. Then I’ll try to beat rush hour traffic out to Long Island.” Casey glanced at the clock as she spoke. “It’s three-thirty, so I should be okay. Are you speaking to anyone in particular at Simon’s?”
“Anyone and everyone, from Simon the owner to the employees to the patrons. This place is a real hangout,
