be a slam dunk.” He sliced into his steak.
“We don’t hear you saying that,” Sonnet said.
“I have to be honest with you,” said Laurence. “Delvecchio is getting desperate, and he’s known to fight dirty when he’s slipping in the polls.”
“Are you saying he’s slipping in the polls?”
“He most definitely is.”
“So we can expect him to fight dirty,” said Orlando.
“We can.” Laurence swirled a bite of rare meat in the Bearnaise sauce. “And Sonnet, I have to tell you, he’s bound to send someone snooping into every corner of my life.”
“Including me, you mean.” A knot of tension formed in the pit of her stomach.
“I wish I could deny it. Delvecchio is a master at negative spin. He could find a way to make Santa Claus look bad.”
“How bad?” Sonnet pushed her plate away and regarded them both.
Orlando handed her a printout from a political blog. She scanned the article, horror rising along with the bile in her throat. She stared at her father. “They’re bringing up your illicit affair as a West Point cadet with an underage local girl. Of a different race. Which, by the way, is not exactly fiction.”
The article further characterized her father as a ruthlessly ambitious career operative who ignored his own child and moved ahead with his own agenda. At the bottom of the article was a link—Jeffries’s love child…post-wedding hookups?—that made her nearly gag. How had that leaked?
“All fiction, of course,” Orlando said confidently.
She shuddered with distaste, pushing aside the page. “They left out the bit about you having horns and a tail.”
“I’m sorry,” her father said. “I hate that you had to be sucked into this.”
“How will you respond?”
“It’s taken care of. I issued a statement with the truth, explaining that I wasn’t aware that I’d fathered a child. Once I learned I had a daughter, I was elated by the gift I’d been given, and I supported you and your mother to the best of my ability. I’m proud to say you’ve grown into an accomplished young woman with a passion for service and a bright future ahead of her.” The hookups notwithstanding, she thought with a shudder.
“Depending on their politics, readers will decide which version to believe,” said Orlando.
“And if someone contacts me?” Sonnet suppressed a chill of terror.
“Tell them the truth,” her father said easily. “Your truth.”
“Sure,” she said, envious of his sangfroid. “Right.” In her heart, she knew she would gloss over certain key facts—such as the fact that she used to cry herself to sleep at night, wishing she had a daddy like other kids, even a part-time daddy. Or the terrific, secret envy she felt toward his other daughters, Layla and Kara, the dual heiresses to his dynastic marriage. Yes, he’d married the perfect woman to enhance his career. Sonnet wanted to believe it was a love match, but sometimes she wondered if his marriage to the daughter of a famous civil rights leader had been by design or happenstance. Sonnet wouldn’t say a word about these matters because she could scarcely admit them to herself. Love had never seemed like her father’s top priority. He shied away from it, perhaps because it was the kind of thing that couldn’t be controlled, like a battalion of soldiers or a department in the military.
“I’m a big girl,” she assured them. “I can take care of myself.”
“There was never a doubt,” said her father. “But again, I’m sorry.”
An uncomfortable thought struck her. “Did they harass my mother?”
“I would hope not, but unfortunately, we’re dealing with Johnny Delvecchio.”
“If he contacts her, she won’t have anything bad to say.” Sonnet spoke with complete assurance. Nina had always owned her part in the situation, too, and she’d never expressed any bitterness or resentment against Laurence. Not to Sonnet, anyway.
The conversation drifted to other campaign matters, the topic sneaking further away from Sonnet’s big news. She tried not to feel cheated. This was supposed to be a celebration of her getting the fellowship. Of course, in the company of her father, she was used to being eclipsed. He had a big career and a big life, and running for Congress only made it bigger.
Like everyone else in his circle, she admired and respected him for his drive to succeed. Judging by the things he had achieved in his career, the propensity was working well for him. He lived a considered and well-crafted life.
The only misstep he’d ever made was Sonnet herself. She was the result of a youthful indiscretion, one for which the world had forgiven him. Some people were lucky that way. They got away with things.
Other than that, his resume was stellar. Through sheer determination, he’d risen from humble roots as the son of a single mother who got by on public assistance. In school, he excelled at both academics and sports, winning a coveted appointment to West Point. From there he’d climbed the ladder of leadership through the ranks of the military. He married well, in terms of his career, and as far as anyone knew, it was a loving partnership. His two lovely daughters wore the polish of private schools and an international lifestyle. Sonnet was the only blot on an otherwise spotless record.
She hated being the blot.
* * *
“How is this going to work?” Sonnet asked Orlando later that night as they got ready for bed. He’d calmed down about the key, and she felt excited to be at his place, carefully placing her belongings in a small corner of his walk-in closet. “With you being here and me going overseas?”
“Guess we’ll rack up some air miles.”
“I don’t mean booking flights. I mean, how will it work?”
“You mean how will we stay in this relationship.”
He’d called it a relationship. He’d teased her about a proposal—or was it more than teasing? They were making progress, she felt sure of it. Progress toward a goal—that was a good thing, right?
He was the most cautious guy she’d ever known, choosing his words as if they were going to be chiseled in stone. Saying something like “relationship” was serious business to a man like Orlando. She tended to be more impulsive, and he balanced her.
“Thank you,” she said. “That is precisely what I mean.”
“Besides visiting, there’s email and Skype,” he pointed out.
“And that’s enough for you?”
“It will have to be. Unless you’re willing to give up the fellowship.”
“Or you’re willing to give up the campaign,” she said.
“Don’t be silly. It’s not an either/or situation.”
She
