The Prodigal Daughter Read online

  When she did eat, it was endless Dutch-treat breakfasts and pot-luck dinners. At night before falling into bed she would jot down more facts and figures—picked up in that day’s travels—into the dog-eared black briefing book that was never far from her side. She fell asleep trying to remember names, countless names, of people who would be insulted if she ever forgot the role they had played in her campaign. Richard would return to New York on Sunday night every bit as tired as Florentyna. Never once did he complain or bother his wife with any problems facing the bank or the Baron Group. She smiled up at him as they said goodbye at yet another cold February airport: she noticed he was wearing a pair of the blue leather gloves he had bought for his father in Bloomingdale’s over twenty years before.

  “I still have one more pair to go through, Jessie, before I can start looking for another woman,” he said, and left her smiling.

  Each morning Florentyna rose more determined to win a seat in the Senate. If she was sad about anything, it was how little she saw of William and Annabel. William, now sporting a Fidel Castro mustache, looked set for a summa cum laude, while Annabel brought a different young man home each vacation.

  From past experience, Florentyna had learned to expect a thunderbolt to land sometime during an election campaign, but she had not imagined that a meteorite would accompany it. During the past year, Chicago had been shaken by a series of brutal local murders committed by a man the press had dubbed the Chicago Cutthroat. After the killer had slashed the throat of each of his victims, he carved a heart on their foreheads to leave the police in no doubt who had struck again. More and more in public gatherings Florentyna and Ralph Brooks found that they were being tackled on the question of law and order. At night the streets of Chicago were almost deserted because of the reputation of the killer whom the police were unable to apprehend. To Florentyna’s relief, the murderer was caught one night on the Northwestem University campus after he had been taken by surprise while in the act of attacking a college girl.

  Florentyna made a statement the next morning in praise of the Chicago police force and wrote a personal note to the officer who had made the arrest. She assumed that that would be the end of the matter until she read the morning paper. Ralph Brooks had announced that he was personally going to prosecute the case against the Chicago Cutthroat even if it resulted in his sacrificing the Senate seat. It was a brilliant stroke that even Florentyna had to admire. Papers all across the nation ran pictures of the handsome State’s Attorney next to that of the vicious killer.

  The trial began five weeks before the primary, and Ralph Brooks was on the front page every day, demanding the death penalty in this case and other cases of Murder 1 so that the people of Chicago could once again walk the streets safely at night. Florentyna made press statement after press statement on the energy crisis, airport noise regulations, grain price supports, even Russian troop movements on the Polish border after martial law was instituted, but she couldn’t knock the State’s Attorney off the front page. At a meeting with the editorial board of the Tribune, Florentyna complained good-naturedly to the editor, who was apologetic but pointed out that Ralph Brooks was selling newspapers. Florentyna sat in her Washington office, impotently aware that she had no effective way of countering her opponent.

  In the hope that the clash might give her a chance to shine for a change, she challenged Ralph Brooks to a public debate. But the S.A. informed the press that he could not consider any such confrontation while so grave a public responsibility rested on his shoulders. “If I lose my chance to represent the good people of Illinois because of this decision, so be it,” he repeated again and again. Florentyna watched another percentage point slip away.

  On the day that the Chicago Cutthroat was convicted, the polls showed that Florentyna’s lead had fallen to 52–48. There were two weeks to go.

  Florentyna was planning to spend those last fourteen days stumping through the state when the meteorite landed.

  Richard phoned the Tuesday after the trial had ended to tell her that Annabel’s roommate had called to say Annabel had not returned to Radcliffe on Sunday night and she hadn’t heard from her since. Florentyna flew to New York immediately. Richard informed the police and hired a private detective to find his daughter and then sent Florentyna back to Chicago after the police had assured her that they handled 220,000 missing persons cases every year with only one percent ending in any serious trouble, and most of those involved were children under fifteen. Richard was not convinced by police statistics.

  When Florentyna got back to Chicago she walked around in a daze, phoning Richard every hour, but he had no news for her. With a week to go, the polls showed Florentyna leading only 51 to 49, and Edward tried to make her concentrate on the campaign. But the words of Bob Buchanan kept coming back to her: “This place can only be a poor substitute for your family,” and she began to wonder if only…After a bad weekend during which Florentyna felt she had lots more votes than she had gained, Richard called in excitement to say that Annabel had been found and that she had been in New York the whole time.

  “Thank God,” said Florentyna, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, and resting in Mount Sinai Hospital.”

  “What happened?” asked Florentyna anxiously.

  “She had an abortion.”

  Florentyna flew back to New York that morning to be with her daughter. On the flight she thought she recognized a party worker sitting a few rows back: there was something about his smile. Once she had arrived at the hospital she discovered that Annabel had not even realized she had been reported missing. Edward begged Florentyna to return to Chicago because the media were continually asking where she was. Although he had managed to keep Annabel’s private life out of the newspapers, they were becoming highly suspicious of why Florentyna was in New York rather than Illinois. For the first time, she ignored Edward’s advice.

  Ralph Brooks was quick to leap in and suggest that she had returned to New York because there was a crisis at the Baron Group and that that had always been her first priority. With Edward pulling and Annabel pushing, Florentyna returned to Chicago on Monday night to find every paper in Illinois saying the election was too close to call.

  On Tuesday morning Florentyna read the headline she most dreaded: “Candidate’s Daughter Has Abortion.” The article that followed revealed every detail, even down to the bed Annabel was in. “Keep your head down and pray” was all Edward said as he dragged her through a nerve-racking day.

  Florentyna rose at six o’clock on Election Day and Edward drove her to as many polling places as she could reach in fourteen hours. At every stop, campaign workers waved blue-and-white “Kane for Senate” placards and handed out leaflets on Florentyna’s positions on the major issues. At one stop a voter asked Florentyna for her views on abortion. Florentyna looked at the woman indignantly and said, “I can assure you that my views haven’t changed,” before realizing that the question was totally innocent. Her workers were tireless in their efforts to get out every Kane supporter, and Florentyna didn’t stop working until the polls closed. She prayed that she had held on in the way Carter had against Ford in 1976. Richard flew in that night with news that Annabel had returned to Radcliffe and was now feeling fine.

  When Florentyna returned to the Baron, husband and wife sat alone in their suite. Three television sets were turned to the networks as the returns came in from all over the state deciding if Brooks or she would be chosen to oppose the Republican candidate in November. At eleven o’clock, Florentyna had a 2 percent lead. At twelve o’clock Brooks was one percent ahead. At two o’clock, Florentyna had edged back into the lead by less than one percent. At three o’clock she fell asleep in Richard’s arms. He did not wake her when he knew the outcome because he wanted her to sleep.

  A little later he nodded off himself and woke with a start to find her looking out the window, her fist clenched. The television kept flashing up the result: Ralph Brook