faintly.
‘And these are middle-class families you have moving in there. I mean, that was the point, really. And now you’re gonna tell
these folks that not only can they not move into their new houses for
months
but that the subsidies upon which they’ve based their financial planning will no longer be there for them?’ He grinned ruefully.
‘That they will have to come up with nearly
three hundred grand
more apiece? Or were you planning on covering that as well?’
Mike swallowed to wet his throat. ‘I don’t have anywhere near that kind of money.’
‘Then are you sure you want to pass on this problem to those families?’
For the first time, Mike had no ready answer.
Garner placed a manicured fingertip on the photograph and slid it slowly back across the antique desk.
Mike stared down at it.
An impatient knock on the door. A young aide leaned into the room and said, ‘We need him
now
. The photographer’s restless, and I have to get the governor on a plane back to Sacramento.’ From behind him Mike could make
out the governor telling a joke, the firehose-pressure vowels of the Austrian intonation. Garner held up a finger. The aide
sighed, said, ‘You got thirty seconds,’ and withdrew.
Mike and Garner regarded each other, the silence cut only by the ticking of a carriage clock and muffled conversation from
the sitting room.
‘So what do you say?’ Garner leaned forward on the desk, a flash of skin peeping through the slit in his shirtsleeve. ‘For
the benefit of forty families, think you can smile for a few cameras?’
He gestured toward the sitting room, his gold cuff link glittering.
On his knees, Mike peered into the flickering fire. It threw an orange glow across his face, the carpet, the white duvet of
their bed. In his hand he clutched the photo showing that telltale elbow of PVC. Ridiculously, it struck him that his posture
was that of a shamed samurai.
Annabel stood behind him, still absorbing the scene. Kat, thankfully, was in her room with the door closed, engrossed in homework.
Annabel hadn’t spoken. Not since he’d trudged in, tugged off his suit jacket, and taken his spot on the floor. She didn’t
have to. She already knew and was just waiting for him to tell her.
‘They don’t want a delay,’ he said. ‘They need the PR from the award ceremony. They threatened that the families will lose
the subsidies.’
‘Then we should absorb the cost for them,’ Annabel said. ‘How much is it? On top of the pipe replacement costs?’
‘Eleven million dollars.’
He heard the breath leave her.
‘So what . . . what are we going to do?’ she asked.
He held out his hand, dropped the photograph into the flames. The picture curled and blackened.
‘Okay.’ Her voice was faint, crestfallen. ‘I guess I’ll buy a new dress.’
The bathroom door clicked shut behind her. He stared into the fire, wondering what the hell else a lie like this could open
up.
Chapter 5
A baby’s sputtering cry split the night air, rising from the basket placed on the front porch. Folds of fluffy blue blanket
poked up from the woven straw. All was still, save the flecks of circling gnats in the yellow smudge of the porch light. Night-blooming
jasmine, trellised up the porch, perfumed the air. SUV bumpers gleamed up and down the street. Every third house was being
remodeled, the lowboy Dumpsters as much a mark of the neighborhood’s affluence as the Boxsters slumbering beneath car covers.
The intermittent cries strengthened into a wail. Finally footsteps came audible within the house, then the beep of an alarm
being turned off. The front door cracked so far as the security chain allowed, and a woman’s sleep-heavy face peered down.
A gasp, then the door closed, the chain unclasped, and she stepped out onto the porch. A well-kept woman in her fifties, she
clasped a blue bathrobe shut at her throat. Stunned. Her knees cracked as she crouched to grab the basket with
‘And these are middle-class families you have moving in there. I mean, that was the point, really. And now you’re gonna tell
these folks that not only can they not move into their new houses for
months
but that the subsidies upon which they’ve based their financial planning will no longer be there for them?’ He grinned ruefully.
‘That they will have to come up with nearly
three hundred grand
more apiece? Or were you planning on covering that as well?’
Mike swallowed to wet his throat. ‘I don’t have anywhere near that kind of money.’
‘Then are you sure you want to pass on this problem to those families?’
For the first time, Mike had no ready answer.
Garner placed a manicured fingertip on the photograph and slid it slowly back across the antique desk.
Mike stared down at it.
An impatient knock on the door. A young aide leaned into the room and said, ‘We need him
now
. The photographer’s restless, and I have to get the governor on a plane back to Sacramento.’ From behind him Mike could make
out the governor telling a joke, the firehose-pressure vowels of the Austrian intonation. Garner held up a finger. The aide
sighed, said, ‘You got thirty seconds,’ and withdrew.
Mike and Garner regarded each other, the silence cut only by the ticking of a carriage clock and muffled conversation from
the sitting room.
‘So what do you say?’ Garner leaned forward on the desk, a flash of skin peeping through the slit in his shirtsleeve. ‘For
the benefit of forty families, think you can smile for a few cameras?’
He gestured toward the sitting room, his gold cuff link glittering.
On his knees, Mike peered into the flickering fire. It threw an orange glow across his face, the carpet, the white duvet of
their bed. In his hand he clutched the photo showing that telltale elbow of PVC. Ridiculously, it struck him that his posture
was that of a shamed samurai.
Annabel stood behind him, still absorbing the scene. Kat, thankfully, was in her room with the door closed, engrossed in homework.
Annabel hadn’t spoken. Not since he’d trudged in, tugged off his suit jacket, and taken his spot on the floor. She didn’t
have to. She already knew and was just waiting for him to tell her.
‘They don’t want a delay,’ he said. ‘They need the PR from the award ceremony. They threatened that the families will lose
the subsidies.’
‘Then we should absorb the cost for them,’ Annabel said. ‘How much is it? On top of the pipe replacement costs?’
‘Eleven million dollars.’
He heard the breath leave her.
‘So what . . . what are we going to do?’ she asked.
He held out his hand, dropped the photograph into the flames. The picture curled and blackened.
‘Okay.’ Her voice was faint, crestfallen. ‘I guess I’ll buy a new dress.’
The bathroom door clicked shut behind her. He stared into the fire, wondering what the hell else a lie like this could open
up.
Chapter 5
A baby’s sputtering cry split the night air, rising from the basket placed on the front porch. Folds of fluffy blue blanket
poked up from the woven straw. All was still, save the flecks of circling gnats in the yellow smudge of the porch light. Night-blooming
jasmine, trellised up the porch, perfumed the air. SUV bumpers gleamed up and down the street. Every third house was being
remodeled, the lowboy Dumpsters as much a mark of the neighborhood’s affluence as the Boxsters slumbering beneath car covers.
The intermittent cries strengthened into a wail. Finally footsteps came audible within the house, then the beep of an alarm
being turned off. The front door cracked so far as the security chain allowed, and a woman’s sleep-heavy face peered down.
A gasp, then the door closed, the chain unclasped, and she stepped out onto the porch. A well-kept woman in her fifties, she
clasped a blue bathrobe shut at her throat. Stunned. Her knees cracked as she crouched to grab the basket with
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