Leave Well Enough Alone by Rosemary Wells

Author:Rosemary Wells [Wells, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4532-6596-3
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-10-12T01:31:00+00:00

Chapter Six

“DADDY, WILL YOU PLAY with us today? Will you go swimming with us today?” Lisa asked, pushing the cereal up the sides of her bowl to give it the appearance of having been eaten.

“If I have time, Lisa. I have lots to do. I have to wait for a call from Mommy.”

As Dorothy poured herself a second cup of coffee, Mr. Hoade turned to her and remarked, “You’re an ambitious type of kid, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoade?”

“Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?” Lisa asked.

“I told you before, I don’t know. Sit down,” he said to Dorothy, “but first get me another cup. Pour the rest of that out. It’s cold.”

Dorothy set the coffee before Mr. Hoade. She sat. Her head pounded from a nearly sleepless night.

“You really the editor of your school paper?” Mr. Hoade asked.

“Why, yes,” Dorothy answered. Lying, she figured, would be easier than explaining why she’d lied.

“Well, you must be the best student in the whole school, then.”

“No.” She hesitated. “Not really. Why?”

“Because,” said Mr. Hoade leaning across the table and smiling slyly, “editors of high-school papers are always seniors!”

“Not at Sacred...

“You interested in politics?”

“Yes, well, I...

“Not in labor unions.”

Dorothy took a scalding swallow of coffee. “Well, my Dad belongs to the Policemen’s Benevolent Association and it’s awfully dull,” she said, relieved to be allowed to finish a sentence.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with the baby? Why is it sick? “Lisa asked.

“I told you, it’s just very sick, that’s all. We won’t know anything more until Mommy or the doctor calls. Now shut your mouth and eat your breakfast.”

“How can I eat my breakfast with my mouth shut?” Lisa whined.

“Do you want Daddy to swim with you?”

Lisa toyed with her spoon. She didn’t answer. Mr. Hoade turned back to Dorothy. “I just thought I’d tell you something,” he said smugly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “If you want to be a reporter, you ought to know one thing.”

“What’s that, Mr. Hoade?” asked Dorothy, knowing she was supposed to say that and wishing his chair would topple beneath him.

“Power,” he continued, lighting a cigarette, “real power, is never where you think it is. It’s never where people want you to believe it is. You probably think all these glamor boys who run for office are the people who make things work. Not in a pig’s eye,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke straight up in the air. “Except for a few committee chairmen in Washington, and the son of a bitch in the White House, union president, this union in particular, is one of the most powerful jobs in the country. But my man doesn’t get his picture in the papers unless there’s a strike, and he doesn’t have his hair done by some monkey from Paris. Someday,” Mr. Hoade added after making a face at the dregs in his coffee cup, “you’ll know things like that.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Dorothy as earnestly as she could.

“You never heard of my man before, did you?”

“No, Mr.

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