Page 38 of Executive Decision

I appraised a book from the stack by me, feeling the soft blue linen cover. Before I even opened it, I knew its smell. I flashed back to our special trips to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum restoration facility. This book and its tattered, yellowed pages anchored me. I flipped through, taking in the feeling of sitting with my father and talking about MIG engines. I didn’t care about MIGs, but I did care abouthim.

“I always knew time was precious.” My voice broke. “I just didn’t know how much until it wasn’t just limited… it was gone.”

“It has to hurt. I’m sorry,” Cal said. “Do you need a hug?”

“I think for the first time in forever, yes,” I sniffled.

Human comfort felt good—even coming from someone I didn’t know so well anymore. Cal wrapped his arm around me. He handed me another tissue and sat quietly, taking in my grief. For the first time on this day, I cried tears because I missed Dad.

“I never got to say goodbye properly,” I said.

Cal fed me a line of tissues as I blew my nose, saying. “He knew, Daph. He knew. You were his pride and joy.”

“Was I? I think in the end; he felt sorry for me. I always wonder if he knew Chandler was fooling around with interns.”

“Oof,” Cal groaned. “That is a low blow. I don’t think he did. He worried about you, but that’s how he was.”

“I just wish I could have been here. The way it ended felt so wrong.”

Cal stood and leaned against Dad’s desk. “It was too soon.”

“Not just that, Cal.” My lip quivered. “He told me over Christmas, and I had to fly right home because of a crisis. I felt like I never had time to say goodbye. It still feels like a nightmare. He never got to even see me react in anyrealway. What if he thought I never cared?”

“He knew, Daphne.”

Cal picked up a Cubs ball. Dad threw the first pitch at a game where we rented nearly half of Wrigley Field.

“This place is a time capsule.” Cal held a silver picture frame with a photo of my parents at Buckingham Palace with the Queen.

“I know. I love this place still.”

“I remember the first time I came here,” Cal said. “I remember meeting all of you—all of you except Dora. I think she might have been in bed at the time.”

I snickered. “She was still so young.”

“This place felt so much bigger then. And it’s not like I’vegrownsince then. It just seemed so magical.”

“Why?”

“This house in the city? I never knew people had places like this. No one does. No one could.”

“It’s a lot of work. And now, someone has to manage this place,” I said.

“Are you coming home?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Part of me wants to. Part of me cannot bear it.”

“Things are difficult today, but it will get better.”

I smiled at him slightly. “Will it?”

“I tell myself that every day. I hope someday to believe it, Daphne.”

“What could you possibly be missing, Mr. Mayor?” I asked. “I made myself into nothing more than a wife of a powerful man. I contorted myself to please him and might have lost everything in the process. You, though? You own this town. You’ve built your empire—something to be proud of. I said I’d never give up my ambition, but I did. I am so stupid.”

“The glass is always half-empty.” Cal shrugged. “Every time I see Kristy looking exhausted and run down with a baby in her arms, I feel guilty about it. I have no one to come home to, Daphne. You longed to make it work. I went the other way. Maybe both of us are still just looking for what happens next?”

He sat and squeezed my hand. “Your Dad’s biggest fear for all of you was that he’d leave you, and you’d all fall apart. I promised him that wouldn’t happen. You all have so much love for each other.”

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