Page 8 of The Senator's Wife

“She’s not exactly your greatest fan either,” he joked.

Madelyn burst out laughing. That was one thing he appreciated about her—her ability to laugh at herself. It was an important quality in this town. She was one of the power players now, but Whit knew it hadn’t always been that way. Raised in a smallbackwater in Arkansas by her auto mechanic father and stay-at-home mother, Madelyn had excelled in high school, easily winning acceptance to several top universities. She chose Columbia, but left at the end of her sophomore year after a modeling agent approached her on West Fifty-second Street. She signed with the agency and never looked back. Madelyn pursued a modeling career with her usual single-mindedness, and although she never reached the top ranks, she moved in the kind of circles where rich men were looking for beautiful women. She fell madly in love with one of those men and believed him when he said he’d marry her, but in the end, he moved on to the next long-legged wonder, leaving Madelyn brokenhearted. She was thirty-seven, still hurting, and no longer an innocent young hopeful, when Fred Sawyer came into her life.

Whit recalled the misty-eyed candor with which she’d recounted her first meeting with Fred. They were seated next to each other at a pretheater dinner party. She’d found him interesting and nonthreatening, and when he asked to see her again, she said yes. Fred fell hard for Madelyn. This gruff and powerful man who evoked fear and dread in others had a tenderness and care for Madelyn that made her feel safe and cherished. They married a month later. That was twelve years ago, and now Madelyn was at the top of her game, even if she wasn’t enamored with Fred anymore. She complained to Whit that Fred was no longer the knight in shining armor who showered her with gifts and attention and love the way he did in those first years of marriage. Now she was another of his possessions, a footnote in Fred’s workaholic world. And so she’d not only accepted her changed position, but had transformed herself into a major power broker.

As Madelyn snuggled closer, Whit felt the vibration of his cellphone between them. She thrust her hand into his jacket pocket and took the phone, holding it up. Sloane’s name appeared on the screen. As Whit reached out to take it, Madelyn pressed decline.

“She’ll have to wait her turn.” She laughed and tossed the phone onto the seat.

- 6 -

SLOANE

It was so good to get away from Washington for the weekend, Sloane thought. The sky over the ocean was suffused with swaths of bright yellow and orange as the sun rose, sending ripples of tangerine strokes through the wave crests. The cool air was refreshing as Sloane and Whit walked hand in hand along the water’s edge. She was grateful that her hip wasn’t aching at all today and she could enjoy the stroll. The sand was still warm after the sweltering months of July and August, and at seventy-two degrees, the ocean water was the perfect temperature.

“This is wonderful. I’m so glad you suggested we get away, especially with my surgery next week. I’m really dreading it,” Sloane said.

Whit released her hand and put his arm around Sloane, his fingers gently rubbing her shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine. You won’t be in pain anymore.”

“I know. But the idea of being out of commission for weeks is not appealing.”

“That’s why we’re bringing in someone to help. She can drive you to the foundation, help you with everything until you’re back on your feet.”

Sloane sighed. “I guess. It’s just that I don’t love the idea of a stranger living with us. Selfishly, I wish Emmy wasn’t so far away and could be here instead.”

Emmy had been offered her dream job as a junior associate at an entertainment law firm in Los Angeles a few months before Robert had been killed. She’d been willing to come back to DC, but Sloane wouldn’t hear of it. As much as she missed her daughter,Sloane was more concerned with Emmy’s happiness. But at times like this it was hard for Sloane not to wish that she’d found her dream closer to home. Sloane leaned her head on Whit’s shoulder as they walked.

“I’m sure Emmy wishes she could be here too,” he said.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that Emmy is happy, but I miss her so much. I’ve always tried to be the best mother I could, but I didn’t have a model to go by. I have so few memories of my mother. I can’t even remember what her voice sounded like. When you’re six years old, you don’t really understand what it means when someone dies, that it will be forever, that you’ll never see them again.” Sloane pictured her father’s broken face, tear-stained, as he told her in a halting voice that her mother was now in heaven.

Whit lightly squeezed her shoulder. “It’s a terrible thing for a young child to lose her mother.”

“My father never remarried. I don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. He might have had more children. Maybe I’d have had brothers or sisters. Who knows? He was a good man and a wonderful father. We were extremely close. He died the day of my college graduation. It was the worst day of my life. Until Robert died.” She shrugged and kicked up a splash of foamy surf as they continued to walk. The sun had fully risen, a huge orb of yellow above the blue-black water.

More people appeared on the beach, joggers running along the shoreline, couples ambling along, solitary walkers wearing baseball caps and earbuds, nodding a silent greeting as they passed.

“How about we sit over there and finish our coffees?” Whit said, steering them to dry sand.

Sloane put down the covered mug and took off her light windbreaker, then plopped onto the warm sand, burying her toes in it. Whit sat next to her, his knees drawn up.

“This is perfect,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

“It’s a great relief valve from Washington. Buying this house was one of the best things we ever did. Robert was always workingso hard, stretched and consumed by it all. I had to get him away from it, even if just for a few days now and then. And I see you working the same way. You need a place to get away, a refuge, and this is it.”

“Itispretty wonderful. I always loved spending time here with you both. I can almost imagine them back at the house.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “When I was a kid, we spent two weeks in Virginia Beach every summer.” He shook his head as if to dispel an uncomfortable thought. “My friends…most of their families had their own places at the shore, so I’d get invited to go down a week or two here and there with them as well.”

Sloane detected a note of sadness in Whit’s voice. He didn’t talk about his family much, but when he did, she always sensed something missing. At times she felt almost embarrassed by the wealth she’d grown up with—the large homes in Virginia and Washington, the clapboard beach house here in Rehoboth, and the pastel-colored Conch home with the wraparound veranda in Key West. But her father had instilled in her from a young age that wealth should be used to better the world. How many times had he said,Sloane, my girl, always remember to love people and use things. Never the other way around.

Robert had come from the same world of privilege, and the two of them had resolved that they would use their good fortune to help others. The foundation they established had been as much a labor of love for Robert as it was for her. And now that he was gone, she felt even more passionate about continuing the work they had started together.

They sat a while longer, chatting and enjoying the warmth of the sun. Suddenly, Sloane got up, pulling the T-shirt over her head and stepping out of her shorts. Now in only her bathing suit, she reached down to grab Whit’s hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling on him. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”

Taking her off-guard, Whit scooped her up in his arms and ran into the ocean, Sloane squealing in feigned distress as the wavessplashed over her. The water was rough, with a powerful undertow. Even though they were strong swimmers, it didn’t take long for them to tire and retreat, dripping wet, to flop onto the sand.

“How’s your hip feeling, darling? Any pain?” Whit asked after a bit.

“Amazingly none. I can’t believe it,” Sloane said.

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