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yourself?’
    â€˜I want him to win. That means avoiding any setups.’
    â€˜Maybe you haven’t heard. Women can vote now. They also have the right to go to political events and support their candidates.’
    â€˜You must have quite the job. You have free time to track the senator all over the state. He was upstate the night before last and way downstate last night. And here you are now in Chicago.’
    â€˜That’s another thing you mustn’t have heard about yet. They’re called airplanes. And sometimes women who have the right to vote ride those airplanes when they want to go somewhere.’
    â€˜All I care about is that we understand each other. I don’t want you around the senator anymore. Period.’
    She started to say something but I eased myself out of her clutches and started walking briskly back toward our table. I didn’t look to see how she was handling the unthinkable situation of somebody dumping her on a dance floor. Her irritating Southern accent came back to me; if being dumped on a dance floor didn’t give her the vapors nothing would.
    The table was as cold and silent as a mausoleum. Caitlin was the only one who looked at me. She was tense and unhappy. Maddy held her mother’s hand and Robert scowled off into the distance. As subtly as I could I signaled Caitlin with a head nod.
    â€˜Would anybody like to go to the ladies’ room with me?’ she said.
    â€˜That sounds like a good idea,’ Maddy said with a fraudulent smile. ‘C’mon, Mom.’
    The way she helped Elise up reminded me of the time I’d spent with my father in his last days. I’d held on to him even when he just wanted to cross the room. But Elise was only forty-two and as far as I knew in good health.
    After they left, Robert said, ‘I should fire your ass.’
    â€˜Go ahead and fire me. I don’t like working for morons, anyway.’
    â€˜What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’
    We both knew we had to keep our voices low and our body language friendly.
    â€˜This Tracy Cabot is following you all over the state. You’ve no doubt been photographed together at least three or four times when she comes up to talk to you. Right there’s a story.’
    â€˜What story?’
    â€˜A beautiful, mysterious woman in three or four different outfits photographed next to the sitting senator seeking re-election. I’m surprised nobody’s picked it up yet.’
    â€˜Nobody cares.’
    â€˜Elise cares.’
    His cheeks became a deep red. ‘My wife is none of your goddamned business.’
    â€˜And I care even if you don’t. The woman is a plant. How can you not see that?’
    â€˜The woman is an admirer and nothing else.’
    â€˜Robert, you’ve been in politics quite a while now. You know how this works. The other side sets out all kinds of traps. And you’re walking right into one.’
    â€˜Bullshit. She’s just a woman with some money who appreciates how I vote on women’s issues.’
    â€˜Have you ever been alone with her?’
    He had to take the bullet between the eyes before he could speak. ‘What the hell? What kind of question is that?’
    â€˜A simple one. Have you ever been alone with her?’
    â€˜Of course not. I don’t play around. You know that.’
    For now I had to let the lie go, ludicrous as it was. The list was long of elected officials who toted their mistresses and girlfriends along on the campaign trail. The ladies usually had protective meaningless titles to explain their presence. But I didn’t expect Her Highness Tracy Cabot to have a cover story that mundane.
    The waiter took our order for a couple more drinks and we sat there not talking while we waited for them. Not talking to each other, I should have said. The senator had to play senator for his admirers, some of whom were starting the procession home. I wondered if he was as