Page 42 of Kiss Me Now
“Idealism isn’t a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
She poked her head out. “Your tone did.”
I thought about it. “I think we need idealists. But reality is hard on idealists. When I come across a newly arrived true believer on the capital scene, ready to devote their lives to public service, I already see the impending slow-motion wreck of their ideals unfolding in their future.”
She rose and walked far enough out of the bathroom to lean against the wall and study me. “And it makes you cranky.”
It wasn’t a question. The characterization made me yank extra hard at a piece of wallpaper. “Cranky is for old people. I’m not cranky.”
“Which word should I use? Cynical?”
I ripped another long strip of wallpaper away as I considered the number of young political staffers I’d seen bruised and sometimes beaten by the reality of Washington politics. “Tired. It makes me tired.”
“Why stay?”
The question startled me into pausing and looking straight at her. She was studying me, her head tilted slightly, like I was a microscope specimen. “Why stay in myjob?”
“You sound like you hate it. Just quit.” She disappeared into the bathroom like she hadn’t suggested something completely farfetched.
“It’s not that easy.”
“No,” she agreed, her voice slightly muffled. “But itissimple. You make a decision, and you walk away. It’s making the decision that’s the hard part.”
“I know you’re speaking from your own experience, but it’s not easyorsimple for me,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want to quit.”
“So you stay and get crankier, working inside a system you hate.”
“I don’t hate the system,” I corrected her. “I dislike the way a lot of powerful people game it.”
She was quiet for a long time before answering. “Me too.”
I knew she must be referring to whatever had happened with her and Senator Rink, and I wanted to say something comforting. Or at least something that condemned the predatory creep. But she hadn’t specifically brought up the assault, and we didn’t have the kind of connection that gave me the right to comment on it, no matter how well-intentioned.
Time for a change of subject. To what?
“So removing wallpaper does kind of suck.” My segue was about as subtle as the loud chipping I was doing with the paint knife.
“You can go home any time,” she said cheerfully.
“I didn’t say I wanted to.” It miffed me that she was still ready to dismiss me. I’d only managed to peel away a little of Brooke’s exterior, making less headway with her than I had with the wallpaper, and I was now equally invested in both projects. “You didn’t say why you bought your uncle’s place.”
“I fell in love with it,” she said. “I had a chance to stay here for a couple of months when I was going through a rough patch, and something about Creekville spoke to me. I think it’s the opposite of DC in every way, and it came at exactly the right time.”
“I don’t know about that.” I kept my tone light. “Gran is always full of gossip about the old guard in town, and I get pretty regular rundowns on the political drama of the mayor and city council.”
Her answering laugh made me smile. “You got me there. But I guess the difference is that everyone here is genuinely trying to make Creekville better, not get their personal slice of the pie. I’ve heard people talk about a sense of community, but this is where I’ve felt it. This town is the real deal.”
“Gran loves it,” I acknowledged.
“You don’t?”
“I don’tnotlove it. I’ve enjoyed it when I’ve been in town. But mostly I come here to hang with Gran, so even though she’s lived here my whole life, I guess I don’t really know the town that well.”
“I’m still learning it too, but I can tell you some things I know.”
“Go ahead, shoot.”
