...And Never Let HerGo

would have been hesitant to start a new job in a new city without having a friend along, but she lived with perfect strangers and they got along well. She had learned to acclimate to whatever living situation she found herself in, but inside she longed for a permanent home.
    With her degree in political science, Anne Marie was a natural on the political scene and she did well in Washington. But being able to return to Wilmington on weekends helped to keep her grounded. Her brothers, particularly Brian, phoned her during the week and she saw some of her family on most weekends.
    When the OAS job ended, she was torn about what career move to make next. She had some political connections—Ed and Bud Freel were heavy hitters in Delaware politics—and Anne Marie learned that one of the representatives from Delaware, Congressman Tom Carper, had a job opening in his office. She arranged for an interview and was hired as a receptionist for Carper.
    Anne Marie was the perfect employee for a congressman; she was intelligent, meticulous about details, and always smiling. She was also beautiful and hardworking. Carper was very impressed with her capabilities. Her job with him, however, looked as if it might be short-lived. After three or four months, he announced to his staff that he had decided to run for governor of Delaware and would be leaving Washington.
    Things worked out, however, when Carper returned to Wilmington and Anne Marie was hired to work on his campaign. It was late fall of 1992 and she was twenty-six years old. She worked enthusiastically to help get Carper elected governor—doorbelling, mailing, answering phones. It was what old Delaware hands called “making your bones.” Anne Marie had to earn the respect of her peers by doing the more onerous chores of a political campaign.
    Another way to make your bones and earn respect in Delaware politics was to know things. If someone was up on the latest rumors,strategies, and other inside information, and if he knew
whom
to share that information with, he could move up rapidly. But it took longer to penetrate the inner circles than it did to do the scut work, particularly for a female. The young women—and the younger men, too—were welcomed into the political bastions for their sweat equity factor, but nobody trusted them with anything
really
important.
    Nevertheless, it was a good time; Anne Marie was back in her home territory, and she had an exciting job. She was young and lovely and was at the center of a whirlwind of activity. And she hoped that if Tom Carper was elected, she might have a job on his staff.
    Her childhood friend Jackie Binnersley had bought a house on North Clayton Street and invited Anne Marie to move in with her and her roommate, Bronwyn Puller. Annie and Jackie were, of course, old friends since seventh grade, and Annie and Bronwyn hit it off immediately. Instead of sharing a house with young women she’d met through the want ads, Anne Marie was
home.
She moved in right before Christmas 1992.
    Anne Marie “was not shy,” Jackie remembered. “She was a funny, funny person. She always talked about her problems and we were very, very close. I mean, we slept in the same bed together several times just as friends when we were growing up. She was very particular, very neat, very organized. She wasn’t like that in high school, but when she moved in, I was a bit surprised—just some funny things she did. I’m sure we’ve all stayed at hotels; they pull a bed down and they put a mint on your pillow.
She
would do that and powder her sheets. When she got up in the morning, the first thing she would do was make her bed. She dusted her
baseboards.”
    Anne Marie had learned to clean house from her grandmother, but a month before she moved in with Jackie and Bronwyn, Nan had died. It was anguishing for her to lose the grandmother who had taken her mother’s place. A long time later, she noted Katherine McGettigan’s death in her diary: “Nan died on November 2, 1992—the most tragic part of my life! I always believed Nan’s life would be eternal. She was the most reliable, stable, sober adult person in my life. A part of me died with Katie. I still feel numb. The world is a less fortunate place, but Heaven is dancing with her arrival.”
    Anne Marie missed her grandmother more than anyone realized; she would catch herself dialing Nan’s phone number, and then realize that it was too late. There was no one on the other end of the line