Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(12)
Yes, though it hadn’t exactly been his idea; it had come from his campaign staff. Specifically, Beverly. Her cousin Sharon—whom she described as a “delightful, all-American blonde”—had just gotten out of college in the Midwest and wanted to move to New York.
Garvey was agreeable. He didn’t want the girls at loose ends all summer long. He convinced his daughters that it would be like having a big-sister-slash-cruisedirector—someone who would plan fun outings and keep an eye on them.
Marin—who prided herself on being a hands-on mom—was reluctant, but eventually gave in, realizing her place would be on the campaign trail in the months ahead.
And so Sharon was hired.
What Beverly had failed to mention was that her cousin hadn’t graduated; she had flunked out of college—community college. Within five minutes of meeting Sharon, Garvey concluded she was the kind of girl who gave stunning blondes their dim-witted reputation.
In the month she had been working for the Quinns, Marin had grown increasingly frustrated; sweet-natured Annie had taken to calling Sharon “the Bubblehead” behind her back; and just yesterday, Caroline had said, “Daddy, can we please get rid of her? She’s useless.”
That did it. Garvey will have to get rid of her. Beverly won’t be pleased, but too bad. His daughters’ needs come first.
“Mr. Quinn? We’re losing light,” the photographer nudges from the next room.
“Come on, girls. Just a few more pictures.” Garvey puts a hand on both their shoulders and leads them out of the kitchen, where they just staged yet another happy family scene for the camera.
The takeout containers are buried in the trash; though Garvey’s pretty sure the photographer couldn’t care less that the “homemade” potatoes in the rarely used six-hundred-dollar skillet actually came from Dean & Deluca. Or that neither Marin nor Caroline eats red meat and their perfectly grilled steaks will be fed to the dog or the maid.
It looked good for the cameras, and that’s what counts.
Garvey can just see the caption: The wholesome, all-American Quinns whip up a wholesome, all-American meal together after a long day on the campaign trail.
Well, Garvey was on the campaign trail, anyway. He lunched with the local chapter of the League of Women Voters, then stopped in to visit a couple of disabled veterans before hurrying home to the East Side apartment for the photo shoot. All in a day’s work.
He’ll be glad when the primary is over and the nomination is secure. After a term as a conservative Republican congressman from New York City—a notoriously rare breed—this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for all his life. According to the latest polls, the governor’s mansion could very likely be in his future.
Barry Leonard, his campaign manager, keeps telling him that he has nothing to worry about; that it would take a serious screw-up between now and September for Garvey to lose the GOP nomination—or the election after that.
If Barry Leonard had any idea…
But he doesn’t, Garvey reminds himself. Not yet, anyway.
And if all goes according to plan, the one person who does will be silenced long before November.
Seeing Nick down on one knee in the foyer, hugging Sadie against his chest, Lauren is struck by a ferocious wave of regret. It’s all she can do not to stop dead in her tracks to take in the tender father-daughter reunion.
Even now that all is said and done, there’s no doubt that Nick loves the kids.
I’m the one he doesn’t love.
No mistaking that. Not when he looks up, sees her, and his dark eyes harden immediately.
“Hi, Lauren.”
“Hi, Nick.”
Chauncey, wagging his tail beside Nick, barks his approval.
That’s right. Your master’s home, Lauren tells the dog silently, but don’t get too attached.
“Did you bring Fred?” Sadie asks, eagerly eyeing the shopping bag in his hand.
“I brought Fred.” He hands over the bag.
With a squeal, she grabs it. “Thank you, Daddy! Wait, I made you a picture!” She races toward the kitchen as Nick gives Chauncey an obligatory pat before getting back to his feet.
A full head taller than Lauren, he’s always had a fairly solid build and had developed a bit of a paunch over the last year or two. It’s gone now though, Lauren notices. Something tells her his own weight loss, unlike hers, has little to do with grieving their marriage. No, these days, he’s all about vanity and a new lease on life.
“So where was Fred?” she asks. “In the lost and found?”
Nick nods. “Do you know how many stuffed animals kids lose in Grand Central Station?”
“I don’t know, a lot?” she asks disinterestedly, wondering if she’s supposed to regret asking him to go out of his way to look for Fred.
“Do you know how many of them are pink? That place was a nightmare.” He shakes his head wearily. Woe is me.
She’d love to inform him that having to sort through a bunch of lost toys is hardly the worst thing that could happen to a person. Not by a long shot. But before she can speak, Sadie cries out in the kitchen.
“Lauren? Problem here,” Trilby calls urgently.
Lauren hurries in that direction, trailed by Nick and Chauncey, too.
Sadie stands in the middle of the kitchen holding the empty shopping bag and crying, pointing at something. Lauren sees the pink stuffed toy that was obviously hurtled across the room in dismay. Even from here, she can tell it isn’t Fred.