Melissa changed into her pajamas while June removed her pants because she hadn’t planned on staying, and they lay down, curling into each other. Melissa’s head settled on June’s shoulder, her hair still carrying the faint cedar-and-rain scent of her perfume, and June’s arm found her waist, and for a long moment neither of them moved or spoke.
“Hi,” Melissa said softly, into the dark.
“Hi,” June said back.
And for the first time in nearly two weeks, June slept.
Chapter 21
Reparations
Melissa
Friday, August 14th – Wednesday, August 19th
The floor vote was scheduled for Tuesday.
Five days. Five days to shore up wavering votes, counter Thornfield’s last-ditch efforts, and somehow hold together a coalition that had nearly fallen apart over the past month. Melissa threw herself into the work with a focus that surprised even David, starting with phone calls at six in the morning and meetings all day, calling in every favor she’d ever earned at once. The press hounded her about her big announcement, but she ignored them and let David and her other staff handle it.
But despite the reporters being intrusive, work didn’t feel like an escape. It felt like purpose.
It showed up in small ways she wouldn’t have noticed before. On Friday morning, a call came in from a woman in Klamath Falls—routed through the office in the usual way, flagged for a form letter response—and Melissa picked it up herself instead. The woman had a disabled son who used telehealth servicesthree times a week. Their connection dropped constantly. She’d been trying to reach the senator’s office for two months.
Melissa spent twenty minutes on the phone with her and was late to her next meeting.
“Senator Morrison confirmed he’s voting yes,” David reported on Friday afternoon. “And Senator Webb—the other Webb, not the Thornfield one—said your speech moved him. He’s bringing two colleagues with him.”
“That puts us at what? Thirteen confirmed?”
“Fourteen. We need sixteen to pass.”
Two votes. Two votes stood between years of work and failure.
“What about Hendricks?”
“Still undecided. She’s worried about blowback from the business community.” David paused. “But she also said—and I’m quoting here—‘It took guts to do what Brandt did. I respect that.’”
Melissa allowed herself a small smile. “Set up a meeting. Tomorrow, if she’s available.”
“Already on it.”
June came to dinner on Saturday night, and Melissa made sure to have stopped working by then, and sent the replacement nanny home for the day.
June arrived at five, carrying a bag of groceries and wearing the blue sundress Melissa remembered from the lake—the one June had lent her that day. Lila was in the living room, pretending to read but clearly listening for the front door.
“I brought stuff for making pasta,” June said, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “I thought maybe Lila could help.”
“She might not want to.” Melissa kept her voice low. “She’s still angry, at both of us.”
“I know. But I’m going to keep showing up anyway.”
June walked to the living room doorway, and Melissa stood a step behind, watching. She didn’t go to her office. She didn’t check her phone. She stayed in the doorway, and that staying felt like a choice.
“Hey, Lila. I’m making pasta for dinner. Want to help?”
Silence. Lila turned a page.
“You can make otters,” June added. “Like you did before.”
