and Eric tried. So did Katie.”
Jen started crying again. “I want to go home.”
A pure and innocent desire, as simple as it was impossible. “I want to go home too.”
The two women were only a few years apart, but Jen sounded decades younger when she next spoke. “We’re not going home, are we?”
Caroline hated herself for even thinking what she was about to say out loud. She couldn’t deceive Jen. She had to be straight with her. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you think they’ll let me stay in here with you?”
Almost certainly not. Caroline was surprised they’d given the two of them what little time they’d already spent together. She leaned back against the wall with Jen in her arms and closed her eyes. “Don’t think about that. Let’s just appreciate what we have now.”
Chapter Thirty
The Past
They were indeed invited to the president’s funeral, and spent most of a humid summer morning at the National Cathedral. After the services were over, Christine, Ellen, and their husbands met up with Jack and Caroline at their brownstone in Georgetown. The women were lounging in the upstairs sitting room with the men presumably doing the same thing downstairs. Caroline couldn’t explain the gender separation but suspected that Jack was keeping Daniel and Tom hidden away so that she could spend some time alone with Ellen and Christine.
“Hell of a reason to get together,” Ellen said, nodding at Caroline when she handed her a glass of scotch.
Christine settled into an easy chair with a drink of her own. “It was a lovely memorial, though.”
“The president’s brother gave a nice eulogy,” Caroline said. “Better than I expected. Very Kennedyesque.”
Ellen practically spit out her drink. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Caroline grinned. “Reaganesque?”
Christine nearly choked on her drink too. “Clearly not.”
Caroline sat down next to Ellen on the couch. “I’m glad you two are here. I’ve missed you.”
Ellen gave her a little hug. “You too, kid.”
Caroline stared down at her own glass of wine. Everyone was comfortable, which gave her the perfect opportunity to blow it all apart. “What’s your impression of Santos?”
Ellen took a sip of her drink. “I don’t like him. And I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”
“I talked to him at the convention,” Caroline said. “He rubbed me the wrong way.”
“In what sense?”
“Like, creepier than Murdock, more ambitious than Langlade, more dishonest than just about everyone I’ve ever met. I can’t really put it into words.”
Christine frowned at her. “Caroline, you spent about five minutes with the man.”
“It was more like thirty. And I had a couple of interactions with him on the Hill.”
“That was a long time ago. We all change.”
“He hasn’t. Oh, and he has really freaky looking eyes. It’s like he has no irises,” Caroline added.
“As if that has any bearing on anything,” Christine said. “One half-hour of total conversation and he’s a sinister charlatan with bizarre features. Fantastic analysis.”
“I spent less time than that with you and Ellen the first time I met you both. Was I wrong about you?”
Christine smiled. “The jury’s still out on that one.”
Ellen turned to her. “What do you think of him, Christine? You were on a couple of committees with him, weren’t you?”
Christine shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I wasn’t all that impressed.”
A swift turn. “What does that mean?” Caroline asked.
Christine took a big gulp of her drink, a sign that she didn’t want to pursue the subject further.
Caroline decided to push a little. “Seriously, Chrissy. What gives?”
“He’s said things. It may have just been my imagination.”
“You are naturally suspicious.” Caroline tried not to smile.
“It’s not funny,” Christine said.
“What did he do?”
Christine lifted her drink to her lips again, then placed the empty glass on the coffee table. “I think I heard him use an ethnic slur once.”
“Well,” Ellen said. “I guess that isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“He said it about you.”
“Oh.” She stared down at her scotch. “I see.”
“I could have been wrong,” Christine said hastily. “I might have misheard.”
Caroline glared at her. “You’re one of the most observant people I know. You didn’t mishear anything.”
“He’s a big supporter of Israel, Caroline. Maybe I did.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Caroline said. “He probably holds that position out of political expediency. Doesn’t mean he’s not a racist.”
Christine leaned back and folded her arms. “So now he’s creepy, dishonest, ambitious, and racist? Want to make him a misogynist just to be inclusive? Maybe throw in some homophobia?”
He had made a number of troubling comments about what he dubbed the gay agenda during