Behind Every Good Man: A Novel by Sara Goodman Confino

Author:Sara Goodman Confino [Confino, Sara Goodman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2024-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

33

As July wore on and eventually faded into the swampy heat of August, Michael, Stuart, and I took our show on the road, hitting every country club, Hadassah, and YWCA in Maryland. My father had it much easier as a member of the House, needing only to focus on his constituents in Montgomery County. We had twenty-three counties of varying populations to appeal to.

“Why are we bothering coming way out here?” Stuart complained as we drove to meet with a small group of women way out in Cumberland—a three-hour drive from our office. “You can bet Sam doesn’t bother with this nonsense.”

“That’s exactly why,” I said. “Sam focuses on Montgomery, Prince George’s, and Baltimore and ignores everyone else.”

“Because he knows how to win,” Stuart grumbled.

“It’s a gamble,” I admitted. “But if we can get the outliers, we have a better shot. It’s why we started talking to women in the first place.” And even Stuart had to admit that was an overwhelming success. Did we know they would vote? No. But if my mother was right and even a fraction of them pressured their husbands into switching their allegiance . . .

“We’ve got nothing to lose,” Michael said, looking up from his notes. “And everything to gain.”

“People out here aren’t voting for a Jewish candidate,” Stuart said. “We’re going to get booed out of the hall if we’re lucky.”

He wasn’t wrong. Sam was enough of a WASP (even if he hadn’t ever attended church outside of seeking votes as far as I knew) to not be seen as a threat in the more rural populations. And Maryland, once you got out of the DC and Baltimore areas, was the South.

“If we don’t mention it, I’m not sure they’ll know,” I said. “You’ve got a straight nose, and it’s not like you wear a yarmulke.”

“So you want him to lie?” Stuart asked.

“Did I say that? No. If anyone asks, you tell the truth. But we don’t exactly lead with the Passover story even at a Hadassah speech.”

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” Michael said mildly. “Should I be worried? Are Mom and Dad getting divorced?”

I leaned back in my seat, stung.

Michael turned around when I didn’t reply. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Just focus on your speech, please,” I said.

For a couple of minutes no one spoke. “Actually, I kind of have news on that front.”

“Your speech?”

“No,” he said. “The divorce. I called around, and it’s a judge I know. He agreed to hear the case in October.”

“October!”

“Is that too soon?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question. No. It wasn’t soon enough. But the PI hadn’t turned up any evidence, and I had yet to figure out how I would prove adultery if we didn’t have that. And then we only had two months to find actual evidence, or I would be stuck with him for another year while we waited for a no-fault divorce.

Which was the best-case scenario, I reminded myself, my lawyer’s insinuation about Tom Stanton ringing in my ears.

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