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“I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“How’s the family?” Blane asked, changing the subject.
“Good. The boys are both trying out for football, which is giving Kathleen panic attacks. Lana made the debate team. I’m up to nefarious deeds. Kathleen tries to protect us all from ourselves. The usual.”
Blane’s smile was bittersweet. He was happy for his brother, he truly was. But why couldn’thehave found someone, too?
“And Kathleen wants to know when you’ll be down to visit? It’s been a while.”
“I’ll need to announce soon, so I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”
“Ok. But don’t let that harpy you call a chief of staff boss you around.”
“Linda is very dedicated to her job. And to me.”
“Crazy dedicated, you mean,” Kade harrumphed.
“Call me when you have information.”
“Will do.”
Blane ended the call. If anyone could find out the skeletons in a closet, Kade could. His half-brother that Blane didn’t even know about until he was eighteen, he’d taken Kade in after his mother died. It had been rough going for a while—Kade had been living on the streets and had developed a thick wall around himself—they’d eventually gotten to be very close.
Kade spent years as a paid assassin, blackmailed into doing it by Blane’s uncle, then also a senator. He’d gotten very good at it. But Kathleen changed everything, so now whatever Kade may be describing as “nefarious,” was anything but.
Would Anne object if she knew he was investigating her and her father? Probably. But then again, she knew how Washington worked. Blane wasn’t even sure himself why he’d given her name to Kade. She’d already said she wasn’t going to date him.
Though women had been known to change their minds.
* * *
“Anne! Darling!”
The voice calling her was familiar. And loud. Anne groaned and buried her head further into her pillow.
“Anne, sweetheart.” Now the voice was right at her bedroom doorway. “I brought breakfast. Juanita said she was sure you haven’t been eating enough.”
Breakfast? From Juanita? Yes, please. Anne sat up, rubbing her eyes before finally focusing on her mother.
“Why are you here, Mom?”
“Like I said, I brought you breakfast. You could say thank you, sweetheart.” She bent, placing a kiss on Anne’s forehead in a cloud of expensive perfume. “Now go clean yourself up and come visit with your dear mother.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and Anne hauled herself out of bed, glancing at the clock. Nine a.m. on a Saturday. Ugh. She’d been hoping for a bit more sleep, especially after having woken up twice last night in a cold sweat.
After taking care of business, she shuffled into the kitchen, the aroma of eggs and other yummy stuff making her stomach growl. She started the coffee maker and the kettle—her mother preferred tea to coffee—and slumped into a seat at the table. Her mother was already sitting opposite her, a spread of food before her.
There were orange cranberry scones—Juanita knew those were here favorite—individual egg soufflés, and a half a loaf of homemade bread, already cut for toast.
“Wow, Mom, this is…unexpected.” Anne could count on one hand the number of times her mother had brought her breakfast, with four fingers to spare. She’d even put out silverware and Anne’s linen napkins.
Nancy was exquisitely dressed for a Saturday morning. She wore a hunter green turtleneck sweater dress that came to mid-calf, hugging her curves in a tasteful but still feminine way. A thick strand of statement jewelry pearls circled her neck. As tall as Anne, she had long white-silver hair which she’d styled into a French twist. The style accentuated her high cheekbones and arched brows. Her eyes were Anne’s clear blue, and wrinkles were non-existent.
Pulling a soufflé toward her, Anne dug in. Her eyes slid shut in appreciation. Juanita had been their cook for forever and wow, did Anne miss her cooking.
“So, what’s the special occasion?” she mumbled through a mouthful.
