Page 63 of Power Games

So Aiden had approved and talked about adapting his schedule and speeches. Their priority wasn't the same audience as it had been yesterday. They had to stop courting the likes of Berty Price, and see how to reach college kids, young professionals, and single parents.

In a way, Charles was looking forward to the new direction. Now they were focusing on the people he'd meant to help all along. The future of the country rested in the hands of the youth. He just hadn't had a way to approach them effectively before Vanessa.

As planned, she made her first statement on Friday.

"I've spent all week buried under a pile of work, but I've just emerged and I'm speechless. Absolutely stunned. Not so much by the accusations and insults thrown my way as by the attacks on a man who just lost so much. What happened to kindness?"

Then a few hours later she appeared, makeup-less, in a pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt, with messy hair crowning it all.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I spent a little time putting myself in your shoes, and all I can say is, I'm sorry. I didn't stop to think that I'm a model for so many young women out there. I didn't stop to think. One of my dearest friends' world turned upside down, so I tried to finish my work as fast as I could last weekend, and then I came to help." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't care what you think of me, I just beg of you right now: don't make things worse for him."

She gained three million subscribers and made seventy percent of those who hadn't been sure about the whole business vehemently argue that there was nothing wrong with assisting a friend in need.

She'd been right: it didn't matter whether people believed they had an affair. Many did, but by now, they simply didn't care.

She kept her appearance somewhat disheveled all weekend. He approved. He didn't think he'd ever seen her in jeans before; the white denim did wonderful things for her legs. She wore them paired with a loose black top on Saturday and a red one Sunday.

Blood-red. He looked at it and caught her eye. If she'd done it for him, it had certainly worked. Charles knew better than to tell her that. They had to remain entirely proper in public. For now.

Many pictures popped up over the last two days, and everyone commented about their mannerisms, their obvious chemistry, the way they were careful never to touch each other, but they couldn't stop watching. The Internet was dying for more, for the simplest gesture.

Charles knew his parents had followed the entire thing online. Mark would have been brooding and observing Vanessa closely otherwise. There would have been intrusive questions from Janet. Instead, they welcomed them both with open arms and took every opportunity to thank her.

When they were done with dinner, his mother offered them a nightcap while she cleared the plates.

Vanessa got to her feet and started clearing the table.

"Oh, dear, none of that; you all sit down and enjoy your evening. You're guests."

"How about we all help, and then we can put our feet up and get to know each other instead?"

For as long as he could remember, Janet had insisted on cleaning up after dinner. She sucked at cooking; cleaning up was her territory. Charles had offered to help many a time, and many a time, she'd declined.

"Oh, well…"

"Come on guys, let's get to it."

And just like that, everyone headed to the kitchen with plates.

Vanessa had told Charles he'd make a difference if he was elected, and he certainly would try. Only then did he realize how he needed her for that. What a pair they'd make. He'd have the means, and she, the way to get things done. What did it matter that it took some manipulation to achieve their goal? In the end, all plates were cleaned, dried, and in their proper places within twenty minutes, instead of an hour and a half. The four of them sat in his parents' lounge, Mark in his favorite armchair, Janet on her corner sofa, and they, side by side on the loveseat reserved for guests.

Vanessa's hands were folded and resting in her lap. Charles reached out and took one of them in his. She looked up, her mouth opening up slightly. Then she smiled and returned to the conversation at hand.

Mark gave his son a nod of approval. Enough said.

25

White Lilies

Week two was a blur. Izzy's body was finally released, and they could finalize the details of her service. ‘They’ being Vanessa. Charles wrote his speech, and chose the main flowers for the funeral arrangements as he said he would. Izzy had been fussy about flowers; he made sure her favorites were part of her last reception. Her calla lily, orchid, and anthurium spray wasn't unlike her wedding bouquet. Somehow, it fit.

Charles hadn't received as many condolences and well-wishes as one might have thought to start with, but after Vanessa's speech, they poured in from everywhere. Apparently, they didn't have to give up on Berty Price and the rest of his ilk quite yet; the man reached out, offering his assistance, as did many others. Aiden was pleased.

Week three was the funeral. They'd made it a grand affair, because honestly, Isabella would have hated a small procession. She was a social butterfly, thriving in crowds, restless in her own company. So, he said goodbye surrounded by everyone who'd wanted to be there.

And everyone did. Acquaintances came from all over the country, for her and for him.

Charles greeted the Kings, Parkers, and McFinnleys of the world.

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