up jobs for people who can’t get any work.”
“It’s an old forest,” she persisted. “One of the oldest untouched forests in the world.”
“We can’t afford to leave it in its pristine condition,” he said, exasperated. “Listen, why don’t you meet with all those lobbyists who represent the starving mothers and children of lumbermen out west? Maybe you can explain your position to them better than I could. Hungry kids really get to me.”
“How do you know they were really starving and not just short a hot lunch?”
“You cynic!” he exclaimed. He sat forward in his chair. “Hasn’t anybody ever explained basic economics to you? Ecology is wonderful, I’m all for it. In fact, I have a very enviable record in South Carolina for my stand against toxic waste dumps and industrial polluters. However, this is another issue entirely. People are asking us to set aside thousands of acres of viable timber to save an owl, when people are jobless and homeless and facing the prospect of going on the welfare rolls—which is, by the way, going to impact taxpayers all the way from Oregon to D.C.”
“I know all that,” she grumbled. “But we’re cutting down all the trees we have and we’re not replacing them fast enough. In fact, how can you replace something that old?”
“You can’t replace it,” he agreed. “You can’t replace people, either, Derrie.”
“There are things you’re overlooking,” she persisted. “Have you read all the background literature on that bill?”
“When I have time?” he exploded. “My God, you of all people should know how fast they throw legislation at me! If I read every word of every bill…”
“I can read it for you. If you’ll listen I’ll tell you why the bill is a bad idea.”
“I have legislative counsel to advise me,” he said tersely, glaring at her. “My executive legislative counsel is a Harvard graduate.”
Derrie knew that. She also liked Mary Tanner, an elegant African American woman whose Harvard law degree often surprised people who mistook her for a model. Mary was beautiful.
“And Mary is very good,” she agreed. “But you don’t always listen to your advisors.”
“The people elected me, not my staff,” he reminded her with a cold stare.
She almost challenged that look. But he’d been under a lot of pressure, and she had a little time left before the vote to work on him. She backed down. “All right. I’ll work my fingers to the bone for you, but I won’t quit harping on the lumber bill,” she warned. “I don’t believe in profit at the expense of the environment.”
“Then you aren’t living in the real world.”
She gave him a killing glare and walked out of the room. It was to her credit that she didn’t slam the door behind her.
Clayton watched her retreat with mixed emotions. Usually, Derrie agreed with him on issues. This time, she was fighting tooth and nail. It amused him, to see his little homebody of an assistant ready to scratch and claw.
The telephone rang and a minute later, Derrie’s arctic voice informed him that Ms. Watts was on the line.
“Hello, Bett,” he told the caller. “How are you?”
“Worn,” came the mocking reply. “I can’t see you tonight. I’ve got a board meeting, followed by a cocktail party, followed by a brief meeting with one of the senior senators, all of which I really must get through.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of lobbying and long for something different?” he probed.
“Something like giving fancy parties and placating political adversaries?” Bett asked sarcastically.
Clayton felt himself going tense. “I know you don’t like my sister,” he said curtly. “But a remark like that is catty and frankly intolerable. Call me back when you feel like rejoining the human race.”
He put the phone down and buzzed Derrie. “If Ms. Watts calls back, tell her I’m indisposed indefinitely!” he said icily.
“Does she like virgin forests, too?”
He slammed the phone down and took the receiver off the hook.
Clayton phoned Nikki that evening. He didn’t mention Bett’s nasty remark or his fight with Derrie, which had resulted in her giving him an icy good-night and leaving him alone with cold coffee and hot bills. He had to depend on his district director for coffee, and Stan couldn’t make it strong enough.
“I’m not going to be able to turn loose for at least two weeks,” he said sadly. “I’d love to spend some time with you before we get our feet good and wet in this campaign, but I’ve got too much on my plate.”
“Take some time off. Congress won’t be in session much longer.”
“I know that. I am a U.S. Representative,” he reminded her dryly. “Which is all the more reason for me to push these so-and-so’s into getting down here to vote when our bill comes up. I can’t leave.”
“In that case, don’t expect me to wail for you.”
“Would I? Anyway, you need the rest more than I do,” he said on a laugh. “How’s everything going?”
“Fine,” she said. “Nothing exciting. A big fish washed up on the beach…”
“I hope you didn’t try to save it,” he muttered. “You’re hell to take on a fishing trip, with your overstimulated protective instincts.”
“I let this one go,” she said, feeling vaguely guilty that she was keeping a secret from him. It was the first time, too. “It wasn’t hurt very badly. It swam away and I’ll never see it again.” That much was probably true.
“Well, stay out of trouble, can’t you?”
“Clay, I’ll do my very best,” she promised.
“Get some rest. You’ll need it when autumn comes and the campaigning begins in earnest.”
“Don’t I know it,” she chuckled. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
She hung up the phone and went to lounge on the deck, watching the whitecaps curl rhythmically in to the white beach. The moon shone on them and as she sipped white wine, she thought that she’d never felt quite so alone. She wondered what Mr. Lombard was doing.
Chapter Three
Kane Lombard was sitting on his own deck with a highball, thinking about Nikki. It had been a productive day. Most days were, because the job was everything to him. But now, as he contemplated the moonlight sparkle on the ocean, he felt unfulfilled.
He was thirty-eight years old. He’d had a wife, and a son. There had been a twelve-year marriage which, while not perfect, at least gave him a sense of security. At
