Page 19 of Pursuit of Happiness

“Sorry about the mob scene back there,” Stevie said, watchingMeredith’s expression for any sign she was annoyed. They’d walked across thestreet to where the Uber driver was slated to pick Meredith up, and Stevie feltthe evening begin to slip away every time Meredith’s phone refreshed with newinfo on how far away he was. “It was a bit of a catch-22. I was worried that ifI warned them you were coming, they would’ve acted goofy, but I’m thinking theywere pretty goofy anyway.”

Meredith’s smile was warm. “It’s okay. Really.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather call Erica to come get you?”Stevie glanced at Meredith, but the shadows from the streetlight hid herexpression, and Stevie wondered if Meredith could read her true intent.

Meredith shook her head. “I told her I was staying in for thenight.”

Stevie rolled the words over in her mind, examining all theangles before asking what she really wanted to know. “I’m guessing you thoughtthis would be a secret rendezvous? The outfit, no driver—I get it now. I supposeI spoiled that by dropping you in the middle of a batch of my coworkers whocan’t seem to help but make a very public scene.” She struggled to keep hertone from being wistful but wasn’t certain of her success.

Meredith reached for her hand. “Not even. It’s true, I did slipaway and was hoping not to be noticed for what I do rather than who I am. Whenyou live your entire life in the spotlight, you learn to seize moments ofanonymity.”

“Why do you do it? Live in the spotlight, I mean. Do you likeit?” The questions were out before Stevie could censor them into something moresubtle, but she waited impatiently for the answer.

“It’s not a matter of like or dislike. Public service is acalling. Surely you know that or you wouldn’t work the job you do.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot of comparison.”

“Why? Because my job requires me to win the approval of crowds ofpeople I don’t know? Does it make it less worthy because it requires majorityvote?”

“That’s not fair, but you do raise a good point. There are dozensof ways you could serve the public without having to put a public face on it.”Stevie smiled. “Not that it’s not a very nice face.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“Maybe you could move to New York and tell the citizens aboutyour endorsement of my face.”

“Maybe I could just tell them here if you’re going to run forpresident.”

Meredith’s face clouded. “I have no idea if that’s going tohappen, at least not this term.”

“If you do, you’d have to hit the road soon. The New Hampshireprimary is right around the corner.”

“But between now and then there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas andat least a dozen Senate votes that need my attention.”

“And here I was hoping there might be other things that need yourattention.” Stevie looked down, wishing she hadn’t spoken her desire, butMeredith reached out and tilted her chin back up so they were eye-to-eye.

“Only one person has my attention right now.” She squeezedStevie’s hand and almost imperceptibly started to lean in. Stevie held herbreath, her heart thudding in her chest, but just when she thought Meredith wasgoing to kiss her, Meredith merely leaned close and whispered. “I think weshould schedule a proper date. May I take you to dinner this weekend? Someplacepublic and not in a basement?”

There were all kinds of reasons to say no, but the question shewanted to ask earlier no longer mattered. If she hadn’t been sure the weddingwas a date, she was certain now of Meredith’s intentions, but it wouldn’t beeasy. The swell of anticipation around Meredith’s candidacy would make anydinner out a press magnet, but Stevie was powerless to resist the pull of herpresence. “That would be perfect.”

Chapter Five

Meredith followed Jen into the crowded conference room atthe Democratic National Committee headquarters and feigned patience as sheshook the hands of the power brokers who all rose to greet her, but she didn’toffer any comments about the latest developments in the race. She’d instructedJen to handle the preliminaries to keep things from going off the rails.

“I’m sorry we had to postpone this meeting,” Jen said whileeveryone took their seats. “but the rumors from Drudge don’t dictate SenatorMitchell’s schedule—the citizens of New York do.”

“We’re wondering if the senator might be interested in expandingher voter base.”

The comment came from Jeremy Peregrine, deputy director of theDNC. His smile seemed genuine, but Meredith read a level of apprehensionbeneath his friendly visage, which told her exactly why they were here. Theparty had been scrambling since Connie Armstrong pulled her name fromcontention. None of the other challengers had sufficient national namerecognition to pull off a win against the Republican front-runner, ChristopherBosley, and the clock was ticking for anyone new to enter the race. It was alreadyalmost too late, which was likely why Jeremy had nearly had a stroke when Jenhad called yesterday to reschedule the meeting to today.

The reason for the postponement was pure strategy. Meredithdidn’t want to be seen taking a meeting with the DNC hours after Drudgereporting she was running, as if the news was driving the facts instead of theother way around. She’d left Stevie outside the Quarry House and gone back toher apartment to think hard about the road ahead, and she still wasn’t sure whereshe stood or the true source of her hesitancy. Several times the day beforeshe’d come close to picking up the phone and calling Stevie, but she’d stoppedbefore she dialed. What would she have said? Hey, I know we barely know eachother, but I’m thinking seriously about this presidential run. Any thoughts?

Ridiculous, but maybe her desire to reach out to someone whomight be objective was a factor of feeling like everyone around her viewed hercandidacy as a foregone conclusion. And it was—someday. But now, the party wasrocked by the scandal of what happened to Armstrong, and some of that animuswould no doubt bleed over onto her, never mind the fact she hadn’t beenremotely involved with anything to do with Armstrong’s campaign.

“It’s a matter of honor and duty.”

Meredith’s head snapped to the right. The words had come fromCecily Landau, the finance chair of the DNC, and she wished she’d been payingattention so she didn’t have to ask her to repeat them. “What did you justsay?”

---