He grumbled, "I don't know why you didn't do it last night before you went to sleep."

I gave him a stern look. "Your memory must be getting bad. You mean you don't remember tackling me when I tried to go into my room, then falling asleep on top of me?"

He smiled. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that. And shouldn't you get up, too? This is kinda your first day on the job, and you don't want your stepdad to run off without you."

He stretched and sat up. "Ain't gonna happen, Walter. Mr. Iselin does not set toe outside his bed before nine o'clock unless possibly the house is on fire."

He got up and got dressed while I went into 'my' room and rumpled up the sheets and dented the pillow. I went back to the room to get my clothes and had to dodge Ray long enough to get my clothes on. I swear, you'd have thought he had oysters the night before instead of sandwiches.

Once we were both dressed, we went downstairs. Jessie was in the kitchen. The air was filled with the scent of bacon, brewing coffee, and fresh bread. I felt more at home immediately. She smiled at us. "Well, Ray, do you want to eat in the diningroom or the kitchen, as if I didn't know?" In answer Ray dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, and I sat next to him. "I know Ray likes his eggs sunnyside up, so he can dip his toast. How about you, Walter?"

"Any way is fine, except soft boiled. I never can eat them without getting a mouthful of shell."

In a few minutes Ray and I were digging into well filled plates. Jessie sat with us, sipping a cup of coffee, and Ray said, "Do you happen to know what their schedule is for today?"

"Um," she rolled her eyes up thoughtfully. "There's a brunch with the Mothers' Society for Literacy, a... meeting with a representative for the sanitation union, lunch with the mayor, a tour of a newspaper, dinner with the Coldstreams, the opera, and they'll be bringing some people back for a late supper."

Ray shook his head. "They'd be better off using you as an aide, Jessie."

"Wouldn't do it. I'd have to deal with those phoney-balonies too closely."

"I always knew you were a sensible woman. I, myself, am well and truly stuck. I don't suppose I can get away with doing less than a week here."

Jessie looked at me. "Will you be going along, Walter?"

Ray's voice was cold. "I doubt that Mother and John would have him. In any case, I don't want him exposed to them any more than necessary. It will be all right for him to stay here with you, won't it?"

"Of course! I'll enjoy having someone about who isn't dedicated to making my life miserable. I have very little cleaning to do. Would you like to go marketting with me, Walter?"

"Sure, sounds great."

A bell rang, and Jessie made a face. "His Lordship and Her Ladiship are ready for their coffee." She poured two cups of coffee and set them on a tray, along with a crisply folded newspaper.

As she carried the tray out, I said, "That paper looks like it was put through a pants press."

Ray was wiping up egg yolk with a piece of toast. "Close. Jessie irons it."

I laughed. "That's a good one, Ray."

"I mean it, Walter. John Yerkses, the Jerk, once read in a Victorian novel where a valet ironed the morning paper every day before giving it to the master of the house. Of course it was lost on him that this was done because they had to set the ink so that it wouldn't rub off on the reader's hands, and that it was totally unecessary, since we'd developed better printing techniques in the last sixty years or so." Ray snorted. "Man of the people, my ass."

"Careful. I happen to like your ass."

He smiled at me. "I may survive this with my sanity intact after all."

After breakfast Ray went upstairs to change into a suit. He'd dressed casually when he got up, but he'd have to wear a suit on his rounds with the Iselins. I finished my coffee, gathered up the dishes, and started to wash up. Jessie came bustling in and stopped short, then came to the sink slowly. "Walter, you don't have to do that."

"I know, but it's not like I have a lot of things to rush off to. Besides, my Mom taught me how to clean up after myself. I mean, on a farm, you just chip in, you know?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember the last time someone lifted a hand around here to help me." She took up a dish cloth and started to wipe the dishes. "Yes, I can remember. It was the last time they had a party, and they hired extra help."

"I bet Ray used to help you."

She smiled. "You're right. He started out just scraping the bowls when I made cakes, but then he wanted to help. I even let him wash Her Ladyship's china--he was that careful."

"That's Ray, all right. He's awful careful about things. Um..." I searched my vocabulary. "Meticulous."

"That's a very good description."

I pulled the plug and started cleaning the sink. "That's why it's kinda hard for me to understand why..." I trailed off.

"What?"

I wiped the faucets. "Well..." The rag moved slower, and I felt like I was starting to blush. "We're not very much alike." I shrugged.

She folded the towel, laying it on the counter. "Are you saying that you don't understand why Ray is attracted to you?" I shrugged again. She laughed, "I understand, Walter." She pinched my cheek. "You're a cutie, and you're sweet." Her smile softened. "And you're good for him. I'm glad you found each other."

I heard someone coming down the front stairs, and I went out to the hall, hoping it was Ray. It wasn't, though--it was his stepfather. John Iselin was a little thickset, and his face was ruddy, just starting to get jowly. In other words, he looked nothing like Ray.

He paused, looking at me. His eyes weren't quite as sharp as his wife's had been, but he still gave me a quick, thorough once over. Then he smiled, and I thought that he must've mentally measured that smile before doling it out. He held out his hand. "You must be Walter O'Reilly, Ray's friend."

I shook hands. "Yes, sir."

"I'm John Yerkses Iselin, Ray's father."

*Stepfather,* I thought. *I think Ray would call you on that.* "Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm sorry I won't be able to help entertain you, young man. I'm campaigning, you know, and I'm afraid that things are a bit crowded right now."

"That's okay." I noticed that Mrs. Iselin was coming down the stairs behind him. "Good morning, ma'am."

Again the look, "Good morning. You're from the midwest, aren't you, Walter?"

"Yes, ma'am. Iowa."

"You have a strong following out there, John. Good, simple, patriotic folk. I expect you're a member of the Grange, Walter?"

I had about decided that I didn't like Ray's mother. Oh, she didn't say anything outright insulting. In fact, if you didn't look too deep, what she said would have been considered flattering by most folks, but I could hear the condescention in her tone. When she said 'simple, patriotic folk', she meant 'yokels'. "My Uncle Ed was. I expect I will be, now that I'm going to be running the farm."

"A true 'son of the soil'." Something about the way she said it made me want to check my fingernails. "Well, as John said, we won't be about all that much during the next few days, nor will Raymond. I'm sure you'll be comfortable spending some time with Jessie. You should be able to find a lot of common ground."

"Because she's a servant?" We all looked around to see Raymond coming down the stairs, dressed in an immaculate suit. His expression was dark.

As he joined us, his mother said, "Nonsense, Raymond, you twist what I say. I simply meant that I believe Jessie is from somewhere out in the heartland originally, so she and Walter should have a lot in common."

"She's been working for you for over twenty years, and you still don't know that her family is Pennsylvania Dutch." He put his hand on my arm. "You'll have a good time with Jessie, though, Walter. She's a lot like your mother."

"I knew there was some reason I liked her."

John was looking out the window beside the front door. "It's a lovely day. Why don't we walk down to the corner to wait for the car."

"No, John," Mrs. Iselin said firmly. "You know how Sam is about your security. He'd have a fit if you went out into the streets alone."

John grumbled, "I hate having him on my tail all the time. I feel like that little man in the Lil' Abner comics who walks around with the raincloud floating voer his head."

"We're very lucky to have him, and you know it. With his background, he could have gone to work anywhere. The biggest corporations in America would have hired him as a security advisor. He even had the chance to work for your running mate, but he came to us because he believes in what we are doing."

"I know, I know. It's just that he seems to suck the oxygen right out of the room sometimes." I felt a faint tingle of unease. That description was uncomfortably familiar.

Mrs. Iselin was examining Raymond with a critical eye. "Raymond, dear, are you completely sure about that tie? It's a bit sober, isn't it? You could use a dash of color."

"Mother..."

"Oh, nothing flashy, darling, but John has a lovely maroon one with a discreet navy blue pattern that would be just the thing. Come along upstairs and I'll get it for you." Raymond's expression had begun to tighten as she started up the stairs. She paused halfway up. "Raymond, for heaven's sake, it's just a tie." Looking grim, Ray started up after her.

When they were upstair I said to Iselin, "So, you have secret service?"

Iselin shrugged. "It comes with the territory. I didn't have to bother during my previous runs, but the vice presidential position is at a different level from the state campaigns."

"Is it very complicated? The security, I mean."

"I don't think so, not really. They escort me when I'm away from home, do checks of places I'm going to be, looking for anything suspicious, work the crowd when I'm out meeting the public. I only have two men, and the head of security. He's a tough bastard. Gives me the crawls." He suddenly realized that he was saying something that might reflect badly on his image, and said hastily, "Just right for the job. Just what this country needs."

"Mrs. Iselin said something about his background. What would that be? Is he an ex-policeman? Maybe a private detective?"

He looked a little smug, a little superior. "Nothing quite so common as that."

"FBI?"

Iselin actually looked around, like he thought that maybe someone was hiding behind the umbrella stand, listening. He shuffled a little closer and whispered, "Even better. He..."

"John, are you telling tales out of school?" Mr. Iselin almost jumped back as his wife came down the stairs, frowning at him.

"Walter was just curious about the security aspects of my campaign, dear."

"John, I'm sure he's a lovely boy and would never dream of doing anything that might endanger you, but you know very well that the fewer people who know anything about our security methods, the more secure you will be." She looked at me. "Sorry, Walter. No insult intended."

She didn't really sound very apologetic, but I said, "None taken, ma'am."

Ray was coming down the stair, his expression strained. I wondered what his mother had said to him while they were upstairs. He was wearing a different tie, the maroon and blue one she'd mentioned, I guess, and it looked good on him. But he looked so uncomfortable in it that it didn't really do anything for him, not if you really knew him.

She noticed where I was looking, and smiled. "You see? Wasn't I right?" She stroked the tie, and her hand lingered on his chest. "I know what's best for my boy."

"Very nice, but I kinda liked the black one." Her mouth tightened, but Ray smiled at me.

"I'll be back six or seven, Walter, and we can go out to eat."

"Ray!" his mother protested. "We have reservations to dine with the Coldstreams at The Silver Cup, then the opera. I moved heaven and earth last night to get a ticket for you."

Ray's voice was cold. "That isn't part of the bargain, Mother. I'm here to observe the campaign process, not squire you around to social events."

"You know very well that social obligations are a huge part of the process. The Coldstreams are important supporters, and there's a lot of networking that goes on during intermission at the opera. There are people, important people, who are expecting to see you with us, and if you don't..."

"There's someone important here who's expecting to see me, too, and I'd damn sure rather be here than..."

"Ray, it's all right." I could see that Mrs. Iselin was ready to have a full blown scene, since there weren't any other outsiders to witness it, and I just didn't want Ray to have to go through that. "She already set this up. We'll have plenty of time together later on, and you'll be here after the show for supper, right?"

I could see that Mrs. Iselin wanted to say something. I said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Iselin. I have a nice suit, and I can keep my mouth shut when I need to."

I could tell that she wasn't thrilled with the idea of me mingling with her guests, but she took a look at Ray and decided that the concessions she'd gain would be worth the annoyance. "That sounds like a fine plan, Walter. You see, Raymond? Even your little friend can see the good sense in your doing your filial duty." I think Ray was about to say something about that, but there was a knock on the door. "That will be the car." She started for the door. "Come along, you two."

She waited for her husband to open the door for her, then sailed out, head up. You know, she didn't have even one little wrinkle or any loose skin on her neck at all? Mom had been joking about her 'wattles' for years. It just didn't seem natural, somehow.

Mr. Iselin and Raymond started out. Past them I could see a large, dark car waiting at the curb, the door open. A man in a dark suit was holding the door to the backseat open. As Mr. and Mrs. Iselin started to slide in, Ray hesitated and turned back. "I forgot my keys."

I heard Mrs. Iselin's voice, annoyed. "Raymond, why would you need...?" She was cut off as the door shut.

Ray walked over to me, took me in his arms, and gave me a thorough kiss. "I'm sorry, baby. This isn't what I wanted when I brough you back with me."

"It's okay, Ray. Sometimes things just get in the way. We'll find time together."

"We better. How can I help you if I can't be with you?"

"Hurry up and kiss me again, then get out there and get whatever you have to do overwith."

He kissed me again and went out. I followed him to the door and waved as he got into the car. The man in the suit went around to get in the driver's seat. There was someone else, another security man, I guess, sitting in the front. He was sitting with his back turned toward me, arm over the seat back, talking to the Iselins.

All I saw was the back of his head, and his broad back. That's all. Anonymous. He turned his head a little more, and I saw a slice of his profile. Still pretty anonymous. The interior of the car was dark, even in the early morning light. I couldn't possibly know who it was.

But I did.