The Widow by Kaira Rouda

Author:Kaira Rouda [Rouda, Kaira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2022-11-30T18:30:00+00:00

PART TWO

MAY

A GUIDE FOR NEW MEMBERS OF CONGRESS FROM MIMI SMITH OF THE SMITH INSTITUTE

A campaign for Congress can be all encompassing. Make sure your family is on board. The campaign and the job itself require a big sacrifice by the ones you love. If you should win, you will be married to your job. You will have little time for anyone or anything else. Are you up for this? Is your spouse?

JODY

Rayburn House Office Building

It still doesn’t seem real. I can’t believe Martin is gone. I sit at his desk, holding his favorite pen, signing thank-you notes. Avalanches of well-wishers have sent florists’ shops’ worth of flowers to his office, which we’ve promptly dispatched to hospitals across Capitol Hill.

I’ve kept a single arrangement, elegant white lilies in a crystal vase, that adorns his desk. Many of Martin’s constituents have donated to the American Heart Association too. We will make sure portable defibrillators are installed in public spaces throughout DC. We tell people Martin might be alive today if he’d had the heart attack anywhere in the Capitol complex. No one needs to know that Martin actually died of a gastric hemorrhage, the poor man, and that there was nothing doctors could do to save him. The cloak of privacy afforded to Congress members means the attending physician could sign the death certificate noting the much more common and civilized cardiac arrest as the cause of death. And I’ve asked for that to be done.

There was no need for an autopsy, and thankfully all the official paperwork a sudden death requires is complete. As a precaution, I did get rid of several vials of Visine. It’s not good to use the drops too often or for too long, I read. Your eyes can have an adverse reaction. And that’s if you’re using it for the approved purpose. The dose I gave Martin each time he came home from seeing the intern simply made him feel bad, as he should have. I’m relieved, I suppose, that I am not the one to blame for his death. Poor Martin.

I’m startled by a knock on the door. Ever since I watched my husband die at my daughter’s reception a month ago, I’m easily spooked.

“Come in,” I answer, swiveling in Martin’s massive leather chair to face whoever needs me.

“Mrs. Asher,” David says, bowing a little. “I know this is a difficult time, and I’ve been putting off a conversation we need to have. But we must. We need to talk about Congressman Asher’s successor. The party needs to have some sort of approval from you to commence the search. I’m sorry. I know it feels too soon, but there is the work of the people to be done.”

Ah yes, blame it on the people when we both know it’s the party.

“Come in, David,” I say, standing and leading him to the sitting area of the office. We both know there will be a special election to fill the remainder of Martin’s term through next January third.

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