Brazen Virtue

“Have you ever been camping?”
    “In a tent?” A little baffled, she shook her head. “No. I’ve never understood why people get off sleeping in the dirt.”
    “I know a place in West Virginia. There’s a river, lots of rock. Wildflowers. I’d like to take you there.”
    She smiled. It was his way of offering peace. “In a tent?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I guess that leaves out room service.”
    “I might bring a cup of tea to your sleeping bag.”
    “Okay. Ed?” She turned her hand over in offering. “Why don’t you kiss my fingers and make them better?”

Chapter 15
    T ESS, HOW WONDERFUL YOU look.” Claire Hayden brushed her cheek over Tess’s, then settled into the corner table at the Mayflower. “I really appreciate you meeting me like this at the end of one of your busy days.”
    “It’s always nice to see you, Claire.” Tess smiled though her feet were aching and she was already dreaming of a hot bath. “And you made it sound important.”
    “I’m probably overreacting.” Claire adjusted the jacket of her shell-pink suit. “I’ll have a dry vermouth,” she told the waiter before glancing back at Tess. “Two?”
    “No, I’ll just have a Perrier.” Tess watched Claire twist the thick band of her wedding ring around and around on her finger. “How is Charlton, Claire? It’s been months since I’ve seen either of you except on the evening news. This must be a very exciting time for all of you.”

    “You know Charlton, he takes all of it in stride. For myself, I’m trying to gear up for the madness this summer. Smiles and speeches and smoldering podiums. The press already has the house under siege.” She moved her small shoulders as if to shrug the inconvenience away. “That’s all part of it. You know, Charlton always says the issues are more important than the candidate, but I wonder. If he slams a door, twenty reporters are ready to print that he threw a tantrum.”
    “Public life is never easy. Being the wife of the party’s favored son can be a strain.”
    “Oh, it’s not that. I’ve accepted that.” She paused while their drinks were served. She would only have one, no matter how much she was tempted to order a second. It wouldn’t do to have anyone report that the candidate’s wife sucked the bottle. “I can admit to you that there are times I wish we could bundle off to some little farm somewhere.” She sipped. “Of course, I’d hate that quickly enough. I love Washington. I love being a Washington wife. And I have no doubt I’ll love being First Lady.”
    “If my grandfather’s on the mark, you’ll find out very soon.”
    “Dear Jonathan.” Claire smiled again, but Tess saw the strain that still shadowed her eyes. “How is he?”
    “As ever. He’ll be pleased when I tell him we got together.”
    “I’m afraid this isn’t social, and it’s not something I want you to discuss with your grandfather. Or anyone.”
    “All right, Claire. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
    “Tess, I’ve always respected your professional credentials, and I know I can rely on your discretion.”
    “If you’re asking me to consider anything you say to me here as privileged, I understand.”
    “Yes, I knew you would.” Claire paused again, to sip, then to simply run her finger down the stem of her glass. “As I said, it’s probably nothing. Charlton wouldn’t be pleased that I’m making anything out of it, but I can’t ignore it any longer.”
    “Then Charlton doesn’t know you’re here.”

    “No.” Claire looked up again. Her eyes were more than shadowed now, Tess saw. They were frantic. “I don’t want him to know, not yet. You have to understand the enormous pressure he’s under to be, well, ideal. In today’s climate no one wants imperfection in their leaders. Once a flaw is dug out, as the press is hell-bent to do, it’s maximized and twisted until it becomes a bigger issue than a man’s record. Tess, you know what smears on a candidate’s family life, his personal relationships, can do to his campaign.”
    “But you didn’t ask me here to talk about Charlton’s campaign.”
    “No.” Claire hesitated. Once it was said, it couldn’t be taken back. Twenty years of her life, and five more of her husband’s, could hang in the balance of this one decision. “It’s about Jerald. My son. I’m afraid he’s, well, I don’t think Jerald’s been himself lately.”
    “In what way?”
    “He’s always been a quiet boy, a