Wild Things (25 page)

Faith held out her hand. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. O'Leary."

Sydney watched in amazement as Mark O'Leary stood up and shook Faith's hand. "The pleasure's
been all mine," he said without a trace of mockery. He looked at Sydney. "At least she's got balls."

"Ovaries, Mark," Sydney said. "She's got ovaries."

* * * * *

After our meeting with O'Leary, Sydney threw herself completely into arranging and assembling her press packets and materials to announce her candidacy. I had never considered how extensive this preparatory stage was. She developed small brochures that explained her views on public housing, access to health care, a woman's right to choose, biannual zero-based budgeting for all social programs, and on and oh. When I wasn't teaching or delving through research, I found myself frequently in the role of final editor.

Our lives had melted together as easily as butter into toast. I had moved out of my apartment and Michael, recovering speedily from the final skin grafts, had moved in. Eric, once recovered from the shock of our announcement, began congratulating himself for having brought us together and had even gone so far as to say that if either of us made the other unhappy, we'd have him to reckon with. Meg loved to bring David for playtime in the spa. From my parents I heard nothing.

We put one of the unused rooms in Sydney's flat to good use by creating a study for me. My first week in it I sorted and arranged my research material and the second I actually began writing
Eleanor.
More often than not, however, I took my laptop into
Sydney's study — the room where I'd first realized that she was a wild, dangerous woman — and soaked up the fire while Duchess studiously ignored me.

There was one topic that we hadn't come to any resolution on: money. When I brought it up, Sydney evaded. The flat was paid for so I had no rent money to contribute. The marvelous Lucy, who fussed over me like a mother hen, and her housekeeping expenses were paid directly by Sydney's money manager, and Sydney had looked at me blankly when I said I wanted to pay my share of the grocery bill. I had wanted to have some sort of pre-nuptial agreement, but Sydney wouldn't hear of it, saying shortly that she didn't want to talk about failure.

I wasn't without my own resources, but they paled next to hers. I was only beginning to suspect how much. I didn't have an Aquitaine to balance against her empire. I didn't want people to think what Mark O'Leary had insinuated, that I was after the life of wealth and ease that Sydney could easily support. I had tried to talk to her about it, but she had been deliberately obtuse.

I was tapping my latest royalty check on my laptop when Sydney came in, flushed from her shower and wrapped in the white chenille robe I found absolutely delectable. "I'm still selling," I said, holding out the check.

She glanced at it and then said, "Congratulations, darling." She dropped a kiss on the top of my head and sat down in front of the fire. "Just wait until
Eleanor
hits the shelves."

"Syd, what did O'Leary mean by a hundred million?"

Her indulgent smile faded. "I suppose he was guessing at how much I'm worth."

"Was he far off?" Now that I'd ruined her mood, I decided to persist.

"Way off," she said.

There was a long silence, and then I said, "Why don't you want to talk about it? I told you I'd sign anything you thought was fair."

"I don't want to even consider that our relationship isn't going to last."

"Is that the real reason?" I gave her a long, steady look.

"I didn't want you to know how much," she said sullenly. "I was afraid your virtuous little heart would be appalled and you'd get cold feet."

I did feel a nervous flutter in my heart. "Appalled by what?"

Sydney sighed. "O'Leary wasn't just way off. He was way low. I've got more money than anyone could possibly spend in a lifetime. It just sits around in banks and blind trusts making me more money all the time. I have to use the blind trusts so I don't accidentally or intentionally benefit from legislation I have influence over. I have no idea what it's invested in. I just know there's more at the end of the year than at the beginning. It's rather scary. I try to give it away, but it just keeps growing."

"Maybe I don't want to know the numbers," I said. I was having trouble conceptualizing. "I just, well, people will talk."

"Yes, they will. Let them. I know you didn't marry me for my money, sweetheart."

"How so?" She was smiling at me and I found myself smiling back.

"Eric is a boy —"

"I noticed. If he weren't a boy there's no telling where I'd be now." I ducked the pillow she threw at me. Duchess raised her head, scandalized.

"And boys get left more money than girls, it's a fact of life. Eric started off with more than I'll ever have. And I don't actively invest my money, but Eric does. Whatever I have he's got twice that and then some." She crossed the room to kiss me lightly on the lips. "If you really wanted money, my dear little Eleanor, you'd have stayed in France."

Epilog

Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will
go; and where thou lodgest, I will loage: thy people
shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where
thou, diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

— Rutth to Naomi, Ruth 1:16-17

Carrie put her finger under my chin and nodded approvingly. "You look fine, dear. Don't be nervous." She smiled at me sweetly, then went to stand next to Eric senior. I took a deep breath and looked out into the sea of lights and cameras. I knew some of them were already filming.

"I guess we'll get started." The chair of the Illinois Democratic party, to whom I had just been introduced, rapped the podium microphone. "Thank you for coming, ladies and gentleman of the press, and to all the rest of you. This is an exciting day for the Democratic party because we are announcing the candidacy of Sydney Van Allen for state senate. I know this wasn't unexpected because the good sense of it has occurred to a great many people. I'm going to turn everything over to Ms. Van Allen, who will make some remarks and then detail her agenda to you. Copies of her speech are available at the table in the rear of the room, along with an exhaustive financial disclosure. I want to point out the financial disclosure is completely voluntary since Ms. Van Allen isn't accepting any public monies. Ladies and gentlemen, the candidate with no secrets, Sydney Van Allen."

The room erupted with the cheers of the many supporters who had packed the room and were giving the press conference a festive air.

Sydney stepped to the microphone and smiled confidently. When the applause and cheering continued she looked a little abashed, then raised her hands to quiet the room. It took several tries.

"Thank you, that's very encouraging," she said, with a radiant smile. "Before I go on, I want to introduce everyone here with me on the podium. I couldn't be better blessed with family and friends. Beginning at the left," she said with a gesture, "is my aunt, the Honorable Emily Van Allen, my cousin Terrence Downing and his wife, Dr. Judith Downing. Next to her is my Uncle Paul Van Allen, and his son, my cousin, the Honorable Paul Van Allen. Next
to Paul is columnist Gemini Van Allen, my cousin, and these two wonderful people next to me are my parents, Caroline and Eric. In particular, without their love and support I would not be standing here today."

I swallowed nervously, then lifted my chin and thought how often Eleanor must have waited patiently at Louis's or Henry's side, aware that potentially hostile eyes were on her and that she couldn't cough or fidget. I thought that if there was a video clip on the evening news there was an excellent chance of my parents seeing me in the frame with Sydney. Just to the left of the last camera I could see Michael in his dress navy whites, hat tucked formally under his arm. Next to him, Meg beamed at me.

"On my right is my aunt, Representative Jane Saunders, and her husband, Richard Saunders. Next to Richard is my cousin, writer Madeline Sheele, my uncle The Reverend John Van Allen, and my dear, dear brother, Eric Van Allen."

She gave him that same gesture of homage he'd given to her at the Roebuck Award ceremony. It seemed so long ago. I looked up at him for a moment and found him winking at me.

"And closest to me of all," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she put her arm around me, "my partner and love of my life, Faith Fitzgerald."

Her arm was trembling, and I smiled at her with my heart in my eyes.

It was done. We had arrived, together, on the shores of our future. The rest, as they say, would be history.

The End