Page 50 of Pursuit of Happiness

“I’ve worked for the Mitchell family for years. Every one of themhas survived close scrutiny, and it’s because they and the people close to themknow how to handle themselves.”

Stevie’s gut clenched. Did she have the wherewithal to “handle”herself in these circumstances? What did that even mean? She could face downhostile prosecution witnesses, hardened criminals, and doubting juries, butthis was different. It was personal. No matter how intimate things had gottenwith Meredith last night, she hadn’t been prepared to parade what they sharedin front of the strangers waiting outside, not to mention, the millions morethe reporters could reach with their salacious headlines and innuendos. “Whatam I going to do?” she whispered.

“I’ve got this.” Erica’s voice was calm and confident, and shedirected her attention back to the concierge. “You have a housekeepingstaff—are they here now?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Erica looked around and lowered her voice. She gestured towardStevie. “This woman is an attorney and a guest of the senator. Someone tippedoff the press so they could sit outside and ambush her. We need a maid’suniform and a way out of this building or she’ll file a lawsuit that’ll tieyour employers up in court for the next decade. You have five minutes to get uswhat we need.”

He picked up the phone and started dialing while she paced infront of the desk. Stevie stared at them both, confused about what washappening, and within moments, a maid appeared carrying a uniform identical tothe one she was wearing. Erica stepped toward the woman whose name tag readMarcela and reached for the uniform, looking it up and down. She turned toStevie. “I think it will fit. How about you?”

Realization dawned, and Stevie nodded. She made a note of how themaid wore her hair pulled back and pinned up. “Where can I change?”

Marcela ushered her to a restroom, and Stevie began hertransformation from happy, satisfied girlfriend of a senator to morning-aftermess, dressed like a maid. When she emerged from the restroom with her ownclothes stuffed in her carryon, Erica was standing right outside. “What’snext?”

“The concierge says there’s a door outside the storage room whereall the cleaning supplies are kept. Marcela can take you there. It’s in analley, and if you turn left when you exit, you’ll be within a few steps of theback of the building. From there walk down to the next block, and I’ll pick youup.” Erica looked at her watch. “I’ll take your bag. They should have thegarage clear in about two minutes. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, but how do I know there’s not another crowd atthe airport waiting to ambush me there?”

“I couldn’t get in touch with the senator, but while you were inthe bathroom, I reached her secretary, and she’s going to arrange a privatecharter for you out of Teterboro. The Mitchells have a plane there.”

Of course they did. Stevie sighed. She didn’t see any other way,although she was reluctant at this point to cede so much control, since givingup control was what had gotten her in the mess to begin with. She had asneaking suspicion the mass press arrival wasn’t the result of some reporteraccidentally stumbling across her presence in the city. Someone had tipped themoff. If she’d made her own plans, showed up on her own terms, no one elsewould’ve had her schedule and been able to leak it. Whoever it was definitelydidn’t have her best interests in mind, but this wasn’t the time to sort outwho she could trust. She had to go with her gut and get the hell out of here.

Fifteen minutes later, she bid farewell to Marcela and steppedinto the back of the town car, out of the watchful eye of the media frenzy backat Meredith’s apartment building. She leaned back against the seat andunclenched her fists, noting the half moon marks on the inside of her palmsfrom the force of her grip.

“Are you okay?”

She looked in the rearview mirror and noted Erica’s concernedexpression. “I think so.”

“We’ll be at Teterboro in less than thirty minutes. Would youlike me to call Senator Mitchell’s office and leave her a message to call youwhen she breaks free?”

Hearing Meredith’s name spoken so formally felt like a sign.Meredith would never be just a citizen living her life. Senator, president, formerpresident—the title didn’t matter, but the baggage that came with it did, andtoday was Stevie’s first real opportunity to find out if she was willing tosacrifice her privacy to help carry the load. Earlier, she’d been concernedabout Meredith and how the news about her leaving Meredith’s apartment in a waythat made it obvious they’d spent the night would affect her, but now that shewas out of the immediacy of the situation, Stevie knew there was much more toit than that. Could she handle this kind of pressure and the affect it wouldhave on her own life?

If it meant having more nights with Meredith like the one they’dshared last night, she was willing to try.

* * *

Meredith walked into Majority Leader Chip Serno’s office at theCapitol Building, and greeted several of her colleagues. After several roundsof grandstanding on the Senate floor, Serno had called a brief recess so themajority whip could work on a couple of senators who were still on the fence.He and the whip were in his office now, likely making all kinds of politicalpromises to the holdouts.

After a few minutes of waiting, she started to pace.

“What’s the matter, Mitchell?” Sandra Dixon, the senior senatorfrom California, asked. “You’ve looked at your watch a half dozen times in thelast five minutes. Got a hot date?”

Meredith felt the burn of a blush rising up the back of her neck,but she did her best to keep smiling. “You try running for president somedayand see how much free time you have.” She touched her fingertip to her thumband shook her head. “Gordon gave me a rare day off, yet here I am.”

Dixon clapped her on the shoulder. “Great job yesterday. You’vegot this.”

“I hope so, but there’s still a lot of delegates in play.”

“Hardly any in contention. Quit being modest.” Dixon cleared herthroat. “Have you started thinking about a running mate? Because I have someideas.”

Meredith kept a smile plastered on her face, but inwardly, shegroaned. These kind of conversations were only just starting, but they werelikely to become more commonplace as they got closer and closer to theconvention. Everyone wanted to cozy up to the front-runner to start carving outtheir personal piece of the presidential pie. “I’d love to hear your ideas,”she lied. “I’m headed out of town again tomorrow, but call my office and set upa meeting for the next time I’m back in town.” Dixon didn’t need to know thatshe had no plans to be back in town until the convention, and by then it wouldbe too late to incorporate any last-minute choices. She already had a few namesin mind, and the decision wasn’t going to be the result of groupthink.

What bothered her more than everyone offering their unsolicitedadvice was the fact this was her last day in town for the foreseeable future,and this vote was eating up the time she should be spending with Stevie. Sheglanced around, looking for Serno to ask him what the holdup was and saw himstanding with a few of her other colleagues in front of the bank of televisionsthat lined the wall of his outer office, one for each network, including cable.Everyone’s eyes were glued to the screens, but she couldn’t make out what theywere watching. She walked over and listened in to MSNBC, the only channel withthe volume turned up.

“Press gathered en masse this morning outside of Senator MeredithMitchell’s Manhattan apartment,” the anchor said, “hoping for a glimpse at thesenator’s girlfriend, but she either slipped away unnoticed or hunkered downfor the long haul.”

Meredith gasped when a photo of Stevie appeared on the screen.

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