Page 51 of The Senator's Wife

“Yes.”

Camille waited for an answer, then spoke. “Good morning. This is Camille Chase. I’m calling for Congresswoman Chambers. It’s personal.”

Camille pulled the phone from her ear and whispered, “On hold.”

After several minutes, Camille nodded. “Good morning, Faye. Yes, she’s home now. Okay if I put you on speaker?”

Camille put the phone down on the desk, and Faye’s voice came over the speaker.

“Rosemary! So glad to hear that you’re home. How are you?”

Camille spoke for her. “She’s better. Hard for her to talk. Listen, I know when you came to the hospital, you said that Mom was upset about something she’d found out. At the time I was so worried about her condition we didn’t really get into it.”

“I’m sorry, Rosemary, but Camille has to know that I’ve been worried about your state of mind for a while.”

Rosemary frowned, not liking the tone of her friend’s voice.

Camille continued. “Well, the thing is, there was a man named Mac Slade that Mom asked to look into Whit. Unfortunately, he recently passed away. He brought a report that Mom said she showed you. Some meetings with the VP, Whit, and another congressman. Mom remembers asking you to look into it and said that’s why you were coming to see her that night. Were you able to find anything out?”

“There were some meetings, yes, and I looked into them. They were all perfectly legitimate. Whit’s spearheading a wonderful project to build low-income housing. That’s all they were meeting about. I was in attendance at one of them and I told Rosemary that it was fine, but she kept pushing, even trying to get me to give details of private meetings. I’ve been concerned about Rosemary’s fixation on finding fault with Whit. I understand it’s been hard to see Robert’s widow married, but it’s time to let it go. She’s become obsessed.”

“Thanks for your time,” Camille said, and ended the call.

Rosemary shook her head. “No, no. Not true.” Her fists were clenched so tightly that her fingernails bit painfully into her palms.

Camille took her mother’s hands in hers. “It’s okay, Mom. You have to admit, you have been determined to discredit Whit since Sloane married him. It’s not healthy. You’ve got to move on. I really think you need to get on an antidepressant. There’s no shame in needing some help. Depression can cause memory loss and confusion. We’ll figure it out.”

The look of pity and dismay she saw in Camille’s eyes pierced her to her core. Her own daughter was questioning her judgment, but she was wrong. Rosemary wasn’t obsessed with Whit, she was obsessed with finding out the truth. She felt her body grow cold. She now knew who her enemies were. She had no doubt that they would stop at nothing to shut her up. But there was no way in hell Rosemary would allow herself to be silenced.

- 40 -

WHIT

Whit stood in front of the mirror and straightened his tie as he mulled over whether or not to let Sloane know that Madelyn was joining Fred and him for dinner tonight. It was, after all, an invitation he couldn’t just shrug off. Whit wasn’t under any illusions. Fred would be fine with Whit canceling the date due to the gravity of Sloane’s illness, but Madelyn would never stand for that. And Madelyn had a cunning way of manipulating facts. He had no doubt that she would somehow convince Fred that Whit was exaggerating and must have another reason for opting out. It would be foolish of him to anger Fred.

Whit exhaled, turned out the light, and left the room, hesitating only a moment as he reached the second-floor landing and Sloane’s bedroom. No, he thought as he continued descending the stairs to the first floor. It would only upset Sloane to know that Madelyn would be there too. He’d gone straight up to see her when he got home earlier, and she hadn’t looked good. In fact, the desiccated shell of a person had no resemblance to the vivacious, beautiful woman he’d married seven months ago.

He felt in his pocket for the car keys as he headed to the kitchen and garage. Athena stood at the counter, her back to him, stirring something on the stove.

“I’m leaving now,” he said. “I shouldn’t be too late.”

Athena turned to face him. “Okay. I’m making something for Sloane. She barely touched her dinner, and she’s eating less and less lately. I was hoping this might appeal to her.” Athena touched the pot handle.

“What is it?”

“It’s a sort of pudding I’m making with milled chia seeds, coconut milk, and blueberries. I’m hoping she’ll enjoy the taste. Something different, and it’s full of things that are good for reducing inflammation and blood sugar.”

“Sounds great. Well, gotta run.”

“Good night…Whit,” she said a beat after.

“Good night, Athena.” He opened the door to the garage, chuckling in amusement. It was obvious Athena was still a little in awe of him. No matter how careful he promised himself he would be, it felt good to be admired by such a beautiful woman.

Whit drove the short distance to Cafe Milano, parked the car, and went into the restaurant. He spotted Fred and Madelyn at a table by the windows, but it took him almost ten minutes to get to them by the time he finished greeting friends and associates at other tables along the way. As usual, the place was filled with Washington insiders.

“Fred, Madelyn,” Whit said when he reached their table.

Fred reached up to shake Whit’s hand, while Madelyn barely looked at Whit, uttering only a frigid “Hello.” Great, Whit thought as he sat. This had all the makings of one shitty evening.

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