style="font-size:15px;"> Jellicoe grinned. “Nope. Does Myra know you’re here?”
Charles stopped chewing on the delectable venison and said, “I thought you just said you know everything. Myra is fine. No, she doesn’t know where I am, but by now I’m thinking she’s probably figured it out. There’s a special place in her heart for you, you know that, right?”
“I do. I would move heaven and earth for that lady. In part, she’s responsible for who and what I am today. I don’t forget things like that. And the…girls?”
“For someone who knows everything, there seems to be a few gaps in your intel, Hank. The girls are fine, but we find ourselves in a bit of a quandary at the moment.”
Jellicoe nodded.
“So, are you on a hiatus, vacation, what?” Charles asked. “I remembered you always liked to be home for Christmas and took a wild chance I’d actually find you in residence. What do you call this place these days?”
Jellicoe laughed. “I call it my house. One of my operatives said it reminds him of a mall. I like space, Charlie. Lots and lots of space. Don’t know why that is. It just is. I do love Christmas. I had a big tree with colored lights. Did the whole drill, wreath on the front door, candles in the windows. Presents under the tree for the help. It was depressing as hell. How’s things on the mountain?”
“It gets confining at times, but we’ve adjusted. Every so often we develop a raging case of cabin fever. What’s the word on Pappy?”
“Contented on that mountaintop in Spain you swapped out. I’ve been trying to entice him back into the fold, but so far I’m not having any luck. You want to do an intervention?”
“No. He has three youngsters these days. Kids need to know their father and see him every day. You and I both know that. Leave him alone, Hank. How long are you going to be here before you trot off somewhere?”
“Well, the plan was for me to leave here at the end of the week, but when I found out you were on the way and the why of it all, I put those plans on hold. We’ll get to that later. You ready for my pie now?”
“I feel like I should loosen my belt, but, yes, I’m game. You still think I won’t be able to figure out your secret ingredient?”
“Ha! I would have made a hell of a pastry chef, but this crazy-ass sweet tooth would do me in. I try to limit my sugar. We aren’t getting any younger, you know. Now you have to watch your triglycerides, your good and bad cholesterol, all that crap. Just so you know, mine are all within normal boundaries. How are yours?”
“Perfect.”
“My ass they’re perfect. Look at the weight you put on, Charlie. All you do is sit behind a computer.”
“When I get back to the mountain, I’ll fax you my medical report. Like I said, they’re perfect, which leads me to believe yours are not.”
Jellicoe flinched. “You always were a show-off, Charlie. Well, here’s our pie. It’s my turn to show off. Eat hearty, my friend.”
Charles did eat hearty and savored every bite of the delectable flaky pastry. “Almost as good as mine, Hank.”
Jellicoe threw his head back and laughed. “I guess we could have a bake off if you hang around here long enough. So, what’s the secret ingredient?”
Charles snorted. “Pomegranate. Did you really think I couldn’t taste it? Maybe, I’m thinking, a quarter cup of the pulp.”
“Son of a bitch! How did you figure it out?”
“I tasted it, you son of a bitch!”
Jellicoe was still pretending to be outraged when he said, “Coffee and brandy in my study and a really good Cuban cigar.”
“I’m your man,” Charles said, pushing back his chair.
Settled in front of the fireplace, which rose all the way to the ceiling and held half an oak tree, which sent sparks shooting up the chimney, Hank Jellicoe poured hundred-year-old brandy into a snifter and handed it to Charles. “To the best of the best,” Jellicoe said, clinking his glass against Charles’s snifter.
In spite of himself, Charles was flattered. “At pie baking,” he quipped.
Jellicoe roared with laughter. “That, too! So, talk to me, Charlie.”
“It’s about Lizzie Fox. Lizzie Fox Cricket these days.”
Jellicoe roared again with laughter. “Now, who in the world would ever think old Kick could get himself a filly like Miz Lizzie? Sure as hell not me. I have to tell you, I was dumbfounded. I sent a smashing present to the newlyweds. Got a sweet handwritten note from the new Mrs. Cricket. I love that little lady like she was my own daughter. You know that, Charlie, and I think of Kick as a son. But then you know that, too. Articulate and fill in all the little ifs, ands, and buts. I’ll take it from there.”
Charles talked. For an hour. With no interruptions. The 140-proof, hundred-year-old brandy bottle was down to the quarter mark. The oak log was still burning as brightly as both men’s eyes.
Jellicoe reached for a second cigar, clipped the end, and handed it to Charles. He did the same for his own. Both men puffed contentedly. “The big question, Charlie, is this. Does Lizzie want to go to the Supreme Court? If she does, we have the power to put her there. If she doesn’t, this is all moot.”
“Lizzie never puts herself first. She’s worried about the vigilantes. She’s worried about Cricket. There’s the commute from Vegas to here. She might want it so bad she can taste it, but she won’t lift a finger to help herself if she thinks it will cause one iota of trouble for the vigilantes or her new husband. That’s why Lizzie is Lizzie. Ten years ago, when you needed her, she pulled it together for you and didn’t take a fee. At least that’s the story I heard at the time. She said—correct me if I’m wrong—‘I might need a favor someday, and I expect you to come through for me.’ We both know she’d never ask, so it’s up to you to honor that favor, don’t you think?”
“You son of a bitch! Where do you get off telling me I would even think about not honoring the favor, and I know she’d never ask? Do you hear me? I know that, Charlie.”
“No need to get your knickers in a twist, Hank. I’m just saying. Do you still walk in and out of the White House like it’s your summer home?”
“Well, yeah, when I’m in town,” Jellicoe drawled. “I like the new president. We get along just fine. She told me to call her Marti. I’m Henry to her. She likes biblical names for some reason. But she did say Hank suits me. Yep, we get along just fine.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me, you old reprobate?”
Jellicoe grinned from ear to ear. “Back to business. But first off, did you ever sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom? I did, and it sucked. But the company more than made up for it.”
“That’s more than I needed to know, Hank.”
“No. You needed to know that.” Jellicoe was all business now. “Game over, Charlie. You want Lizzie on the Supreme Court, she’s there. Anything else?”
“Well,
