“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” Marilyn said.
Jake paused, surprised by the condolences. “Thank you.”
“She was a sweet woman,” Marilyn added, staring out the window at the park below.
“I didn’t know you knew her.”
“I’ve been your father’s secretary for over twenty-five years,” Marilyn replied. “I’ve met just about everyone in your family. I attended your parents’s wedding.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. I even changed you once, though I’m quite sure you were too young to remember. Your father brought you into work and when you soiled your diapers, my job duties were expanded to cover the crisis. I didn’t mind. You were a little angel.”
“I still am,” Jake replied, trying to cover his embarrassment.
Marilyn smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled. Stop by if you need anything. I’ll check in with you in an hour or so and give you the complete tour. The men’s room is just beyond the reception desk, on the left-hand side.”
“Thank you,” Jake answered to Marilyn’s departing backside.
“My pleasure,” she replied.
Jake tried not to stare as Marilyn walked away. A definite former hottie.
Peter showed up at work a little after four. Winthrop Enterprises in its entirety snapped to attention as if there were a buzzer on every desk that shocked the employees to life when the boss arrived. Jake noticed the increase in work effort, no small feat for a group that seemed plenty busy already. The more daring employees offered a “good afternoon” to the CEO. The good-looking female employees received a response.
Jake was at his desk in the corner suite alternating glances between the spread of documents on the desk and the crowd that was gathering in Franklin Park across the street. Welcome to Washington. There was never a shortage of protesters, or things to protest, and it looked like the group in the park was preparing to set up camp.
Jake flipped through Winthrop Enterprises’ financial statements and marketing propaganda for the past year. Page by page he learned more about his father and his father’s business than he had ever known. He moved back to the first page of the executive summary and looked at the picture of his father, showing his best used-car-salesman grin, standing in front of a huge Winthrop Enterprise sign in some unknown location.
“Glad to see you made it, son.”
Jake looked up at his father who was wearing the same grin as in the picture. It was a smile Jake himself was known for. With straight white teeth resting between two symmetrical dimples, Jake flashed an identical smile back. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Yeah, I made it. You shouldn’t be surprised. I said I would be here at the start of business and I always keep my word.”
“Of course you do. Just like your mother. The woman never made a promise she didn’t keep. Do you have dinner plans tonight?”
Jake wondered if his father was capable of a real conversation. He wondered if they were going to continue talking as if they had been on speaking terms for the last six years. “Not really. Whatever falls out of the refrigerator, I guess.”
Peter looked at Jake and hoped his son wasn’t speaking literally.
“Son, if you are having problems, I can advance you your first paycheck.”
Jake shook his head. He could use the money, but there was no reason to make himself look like a complete bum. “I’ll pass on the advance, but I will take you up on dinner.”
“Fair enough. We will be having a nice meal with Senator Day from Massachusetts.”
“Oh,” Jake answered, wanting to take back his acceptance to dinner. A meal with his father was daunting enough. Dinner with a senator wasn’t going to make an evening getting to know Dad any easier.
“We’ll talk a little business, a little politics. It should be interesting.”
“Okay, sure.” Jake looked down at his slacks, shirt, and tie. “Am I dressed well enough?” He looked like any other twenty-four year old in an office.
“You look fine. I have an extra jacket if you need to borrow one. Marilyn will bring it to you.”
“Thanks.”
“My driver will pick us up in front of the building around six-thirty.”
“I’ll be ready.” ***
The maitre d’ stood at attention behind the podium, every white hair on his post-retirement head perfectly combed and slicked back. He checked the seating chart, looked over the waiting patrons, and smiled at the small well-dressed crowd standing near the door. Peter tipped the doorman a twenty, walked past two waiting middle- aged couples, and approached the maitre d’. Jake excused himself to everyone in earshot and followed in his father’s presumptuous wake.
“Mr. Winthrop. Good evening, sir. How are you this evening?” The maitre d’ recognized a hundred customers by sight and knew half of them by name. Mr. Winthrop was an erratic regular. Twice a week sometimes, once a month when he was occupied with business or pleasure. But he was unforgettable.
“Good evening, Albert. How is the wife?”
“She is well, thank you.” It was a lie the maitre d’ told a half dozen times a day. Customers didn’t want to hear about his ill wife before sitting down to fifty-dollar plate of linguini with fresh sea scallops.
“Your table is ready, sir. The senator is waiting.”
“Has he been here long?” Peter asked.
“Five minutes. He was early as usual.”
“Let’s hope he’s as enthusiastic and punctual at work. You and I are paying his salary.”
Albert laughed. “Sir, somehow I doubt that he is.”
Jake watched his father with interest. He was complex. A hard-ass and a charmer at the same time. Jake was getting a crash course in the type of education most kids learn through observation over a lifetime.
“Albert, this is my son, Jake.”
Jake stepped from the shadows of his father and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Good looking young man, Mr. Winthrop,” Albert said shaking Jake’s hand and looking at his father. Peter took the compliment for his son to mean that he, too, looked good.
The senator stood as Peter and Jake approached the table. The senator’s guest, a blonde firecracker no older than Jake, put her lipstick back in her purse and tried to stand, balancing precariously on a pair of four inch heels.
“Senator, pleasure to see you again.”
“Peter, please call me John.”
Round robin introductions followed and the senator offered Jake the seat next to his dinner guest, Dana. The senator explained how Dana was helping out in his office on the Hill until his Columbia University alumni aide, a victim of a waterskiing accident in Saipan, recovered. Dana glowed as if she had just been introduced onstage at a beauty competition. Jake thought of Kate and wondered what she was doing this evening.
Dinner lasted three hours. Jake was bored after the first ten minutes. He read the paper, followed politics, and listened to NPR. He knew what was going on in the world, but he was lost in the incessant name dropping of Senator X, Congressman Y, and Special Committee Z. Senator Day and Peter Winthrop were engaged in an unspoken battle of who could talk the longest without being interrupted. It was neck-and-neck heading into dessert.
Jake’s main entertainment for the evening was the senator’s office assistant. A short conversation with the young blonde told Jake all he needed to know.
“What are those?” Dana had asked pointing to the capers on Jake’s plate.
“Raisins,” Jake had answered.
“Nasty.”
The girl was eye candy, perhaps a senate office toy, nothing less, but certainly nothing more. She was a disaster at conversation and in dire need of table etiquette. Jake was mesmerized, though not by her looks, which had probably caused a few geezers on The Hill to order oysters for lunch. She was a study in human behavior, and in wasted real estate between the human ears. She reapplied lipstick after every course, fidgeted in her chair
