The Prodigal Daughter Read online

  Florentyna was delighted whenever she read these articles, but Edward reminded her that neither the readers nor the writers could pull any levers on any voting machines in America, although he felt for the first time they now had Parkin on the run. He was also quick to point out that there were still 412 of the 3,331 delegates who after the primaries and caucuses remained undecided. The political pundits estimated that 200 of them were leaning toward the Vice President while about a hundred would come out in favor of Florentyna. It looked as if it was going to be the closest convention roll call since Reagan ran against Ford.

  After California, Florentyna returned to Washington with another suitcase full of dirty clothes. She knew she would have to cajole, coax and arm-twist those 412 undecided delegates. During the next four weeks she spoke personally to 388 of them, some of them three or four times. It was always the women she found the least helpful, although it was obvious they were all enjoying the attention that was being showered on them, especially because in a month’s time no one would ever phone them again.

  Edward ordered a computer terminal so that Florentyna had access to the records at campaign headquarters. The terminal provided information on all 412 delegates who remained uncommitted, along with a short life history of each, right down to their hotel room numbers in Detroit. When he reached the convention city, he intended to be ready to put his final plan into operation.

  For five days during the next week, Florentyna made certain she was never far from a television set. The Republicans were at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, haggling over whom they wanted to lead them, no one having excited the voters during the primaries.

  The choice of Russell Warner came as no surprise to Florentyna. He had been campaigning for the Presidency ever since he had become governor of Ohio. The press’s description of Warner as a good governor in a bad year reminded Florentyna that her main task would be to defeat Parkin. Once again, she felt it was going to be easier to defeat the Republican standard-bearer than the opposition within her own party.

  The weekend before the convention, Florentyna and Edward joined the family on Cape God. Exhausted, Florentyna still managed to beat Edward in a round of golf and she thought he looked even more tired than she felt. She was thankful that the Baron was run so well by its new, young directors, which now included William.

  Florentyna and Edward were both due to fly into Detroit on Monday morning where they had taken over yet another Baron. The hotel would be filled with Florentyna’s staff, supporters, the press and 124 of those uncommitted delegates.

  As she said good night to Edward and then to the Secret Service men and women—whom she was beginning to treat as her extended family—that Sunday night, Florentyna knew that the next four days were going to be the most important in her political career.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Five

  When Jack Germond of the Baltimore Sun asked Florentyna on the plane when she had started working on her acceptance speech, she replied, “Since my eleventh birthday.”

  On the flight from New York to Detroit Metro Airport, Florentyna had read through her acceptance speech, already drafted in case she was nominated on the first ballot. Edward had predicted that she would not secure victory on the first roll call, but Florentyna felt she had to be prepared for any eventuality.

  Her advisors considered the result was much more likely to be known after the second or even the third ballot, by which time Senator Bradley would have released his 189 delegates.

  During the previous week, she had drawn up a short list of four people whom she thought worthy of consideration to join her on the ticket as Vice President. Bill Bradley still led the field and Florentyna felt he was her natural successor to the White House, but she was also considering Sam Nunn, Gary Hart and David Pryor.

  Florentyna’s thoughts were interrupted when the plane landed and she looked out of the windows to see a large, excited crowd awaiting her. She couldn’t help wondering how many of them would also be there tomorrow when Pete Parkin arrived. She checked her hair in her compact mirror; a few white strands were showing in the dark hair, but she made no attempt to disguise them, and she smiled at the thought that Pete Parkin’s hair had remained the same implausible color for the past thirty years. Florentyna wore a simple linen suit and her only piece of jewelry was a diamond studded donkey.

  Florentyna unbuckled her seat belt, rose and ducked her head under the overhead compartment. She stepped into the aisle and as she turned to leave, everyone in the plane began applauding. She suddenly realized that if she lost the nomination, this would be the last time she would see them all together. Florentyna shook hands with all the members of the press corps, some of whom had been on the trail with her for five months. A crew member opened the cabin door and Florentyna stepped out onto the staircase, squinting into the July sun. The crowd let up a yell of “There she is,” and Florentyna walked down the steps and straight toward the waving banners because she always found that direct contact with the voters recharged her. As she touched the tarmac, she was once again surrounded by the Secret Service, who dreaded crowds they could never control. She might sometimes think of being assassinated when she was alone, but never when she was in a crowd. Florentyna clasped outstretched hands and greeted as many people as possible before Edward guided her away to the waiting motorcade.

  A line of ten small new Fords reminded her that Detroit had finally come to terms with the energy crisis. If Pete Parkin were to make the mistake of being driven in a Mercedes in this city, she would be the Democratic choice before Alabama cast its first vote. Secret Service men filled the first two cars while Florentyna was in the third, with Edward in front by the driver. Florentyna’s personal doctor rode in the fourth and her staff filled the remaining six “Mighty Midgets,” as the new small Ford had been dubbed. A press corps bus followed at the rear with police outriders dotted up and down the motorcade.

  The front car moved off at a snail’s pace so that Florentyna could wave to the crowds, but as soon as they reached the highway the cars traveled into Detroit at a steady fifty miles an hour.

  For twenty minutes Florentyna relaxed in the back seat during the drive into the midtown New Center area, where the motorcade exited at Woodward Avenue, turned south toward the river and slowed to about five miles an hour as the crowds filled the streets to catch a glimpse of Senator Kane. Florentyna’s organizing committee had distributed 100,000 handbills showing the exact route she would take when she arrived in the city, and her supporters cheered her all the way to the Baron Hotel. The Secret Service had begged her to change the route, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  Dozens of photographers and television crews were poised awaiting her arrival as Florentyna stepped out of her car and climbed the steps of the Detroit Baron, the whole area lit up by flashbulbs and arc lights. Once she was inside the hotel lobby, the Secret Service men whisked her away to the twenty-fourth floor, which had been reserved for her personal use. She quickly checked over the George Novak Suite to see that everything she required was there, because she knew that this was going to be her prison for the next four days. The only reason she would leave that room would be either to accept the nomination as the Democratic Party candidate or to declare her support for Pete Parkin.

  A bank of telephones had been installed so that Florentyna could keep in touch with the 412 wavering delegates. She spoke to thirty-eight of them before dinner that night and then sat up until two o’clock the next morning, going over the names and backgrounds of those who her team genuinely felt had not made up their minds.

  Next day, the Detroit Free Press was filled with pictures of her arrival in Detroit, but in truth she knew Pete Parkin would receive the same enthusiastic coverage tomorrow. At least she was relieved that the President had decided to remain on the sidelines when it came to supporting either candidate. The press had already treated that as a moral victory for Florentyna.

  She put the newspaper down and began to watch the closed circuit te