Chapter Seventeen

Brett pulled into a spot and turned off the engine, not surprised to see Dad’s car already parked further down the row. Except for his car and Dad’s, this level of the garage remained empty. “Relax. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

She glanced down at her lap where she was busy picking her nails apart. “Easy for you to say. Carl works for you and this is your dad.”

“You’ve met them both.” If they were about to face a room of reporters, he’d understand her apprehension. Considering they were only meeting with Carl and Dad, her unease seemed unwarranted. “What are you worried they’ll do?” he asked.

“Blame me for this disaster.” She reached in her purse and pulled out her lipstick. “Not believe me.” Jen tossed the tube back without opening it. “Try to change your mind about not dumping me.”

“Neither is happening. I won’t let it.”

She offered him a weak smile. “Let’s go, I guess. If we keep sitting here, I’m only going to tear off the rest of my nails.”

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out. “You should leave some stuff at my house,” he said. He’d planned on telling her that and giving her a house key soon anyway; doing so now provided her with a momentary distraction. “Then you won’t have to pack every time you plan to spend the night. I’ve got plenty of empty drawers you can take over. And I had a house key made for you.”

“I will. You should do the same at my house,” she said, her voice not much above a whisper as they approached the reception desk.

Once again Dee, Carl’s assistant, was seated there instead of the receptionist. Considering the hour, he hadn’t expected anyone to be here but Carl and Dad and eventually his press secretary. He should’ve known Carl would call his personal assistant in to work. It seemed no matter the time or day, the woman was at the office ready to do Carl’s bidding.

“Hi,” Brett said, feeling guilty about calling the meeting so late and forcing her to come in.

If Dee was bothered by the hour, she didn’t let on. Instead she smiled and greeted them both. “Carl is in his office waiting,” she said. “He wanted me to put in a food order once you arrived. What would you like?”

He felt bad enough without forcing Carl’s assistant to get him food. Besides, they’d gone through the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant on the way here. “Thanks, but we ate.”

“I have to go over anyway. Do either of you want coffee?” Dee asked.

Jen reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “Actually, I would love another.” She held out a ten-dollar bill, but Dee didn’t accept it.

“Don’t worry about it. The office has an account next door,” Dee said, looking at him. “Can I get you one, Mr. Sherbrooke?”

“Sure.” As long as she wasn’t making a special trip just for him, he’d have her grab him a coffee too.

When Brett and Jen entered the office, both Carl and Dad looked their way. They wore matching surprised expressions. He hadn’t told either Jen would be joining them. Dad shook off his surprise first and stood.

“I wish it was under different circumstances, but it’s nice to see you again,” Dad said. He gestured toward the chair he’d pulled out. “Please have a seat.”

While Jen got settled and exchanged greetings with Carl, Dad stepped over to him. “You’re able to answer the question I posed earlier,” he said.

His dad wasn’t asking, but merely stating a fact. Brett answered him anyway. “Affirmative.”

Dad gave him a curt nod as a response and then sat again. “We better get to work,” he said.

Carl took the words as his cue to get the meeting underway even though Lily wasn’t there yet. “I need to know everything, Brett. I can’t come up with a good defense if I don’t know all the specifics,” he said, before he looked toward Jen. “I’m sure you’ve seen what the media is claiming. I need you to be honest with me. Jennifer, is Dominic Russo your father, and have you had problems with the law?”

Brett gripped her hand on the table and gave it a squeeze.

“Unfortunately, yes, Russo is my biological father,” she said.

She didn’t give either Carl or his dad a chance to question her. Instead she pressed on with the full story. And now, like he had earlier that night, he sent up a little thank-you she’d had the Wallaces to take her in and give her a loving family.

When she finished, both men asked her several questions about Dominic and her relationship with him.

“What about the other claim?” Carl asked, switching topics. “If you’ve ever had problems with the police or have ever been arrested, even if it’s for something you did when you were seventeen, we need to know.”

“I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket.”

Carl frowned. “I thought I stressed how important complete honesty was today. Jennifer, men like Phillip Young don’t get their facts wrong,” he said, and Brett considered the consequences of firing the man and walking out.

“Mr. Filmore, I am being honest with you. I have never been arrested.” Jen’s voice contained a hard edge he’d never heard before. She might have been nervous about the meeting, but she wasn’t going to let Carl push her around. “If you give me a chance, I’ll explain what incident the media must be referring to.”

“I apologize. Please proceed.”

The same hard edge remained in Jen’s voice as shared the same story she’d told him.

“Not that it matters, but either Smith’s team twisted the facts or Russo left some out when he shared them,” Carl said once Jen finished.

“I’m surprised he even talked to anyone, or that he even remembers it happening.” Jen said.

He hadn’t thought about how the media got the intel. He hadn’t cared. Jen raised a good point. Few people other than her and Dominic knew about the spray painting incident, so the relative mentioned in the article had to be her biological father.

Carl nodded. “I don’t know why, but he did. I got confirmation before you arrived.”

The why behind Dominic Russo’s actions were irrelevant. “We need a strategy. Thoughts?”

Dad and Carl exchanged a glance. His dad seemed to shake his head at Carl but otherwise kept silent.

“Jennifer, would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?” Carl asked.

“Whatever you have to say, you can do so with Jen here.” Brett didn’t intend to keep secrets from her.

“Whatever you want.” Carl removed his reading glasses and set them down. “You hired me to win. Your best bet for doing so after this is simple.” He pointed to one of the many newspapers stacked on the conference table. “Come out and tell the public you knew nothing about Jennifer’s past. It’s not a lie. When Lily arrives, we can arrange for you to do a press conference. Then find a woman the voters will deem suitable.”

Brett didn’t care if Carl was right or not. “Not an option,” he said.

“It’s your campaign and reputation. How do you want to proceed?” Carl asked.

Jen wished she’d left the room when Carl asked her to. She’d expected him and Brett’s dad to suggest he cut all ties with her. After all, she’d had the same idea. If she thought it might be the best way to save Brett’s campaign, a man like Carl Filmore who ate and slept politics, would too. Still, hearing Carl tell Brett to find someone the voters would deem more suitable stung.

“Perhaps Jen should hold the press conference,” Mr. Sherbrooke suggested. “She can share the same details she gave us with the media, and they can question her about Dominic Russo and the incident in South Carolina.”

Mr. Sherbrooke wanted her to stand in front of reporters and television cameras and make a coherent speech. Her palms were getting sweaty just thinking about doing it.

“In the meantime, we’ll contact the police station in South Carolina and try to find the restaurant owner. Someone down there should be able to corroborate the spray painting incident,” Mr. Sherbrooke said, sharing the rest of his plan. “While it’s not necessary, it won’t hurt either to have someone who can back up Jen’s statement.”

She didn’t love Mr. Sherbrooke’s plan either, but it topped Carl’s.

“Jen’s not the one running for office,” Brett said.

“Brett, you and I know it doesn’t matter,” Mr. Sherbrooke said, before looking toward her. “The decision, of course, is yours.”

Brett turned in his seat. “You don’t have to, Jen.”

“Yes, I do.” He was willing to risk his political future for her. The least she could do was face a group of reporters. “I’ve never done anything like this. I’ll need some help preparing.”

Mr. Sherbrooke’s smile let her know he not only approved of her decision but also appreciated it. “Don’t worry about anything, Jen. We’ll make sure you’re ready.”

***

Standing on her suite’s balcony, Jen watched another group of reporters enter the Sherbrooke Regency Hotel. There had been a steady stream of news teams and reporters for the past hour. She shouldn’t be out there watching because it was only increasing her anxiety level, which was already through the roof. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to stop herself this afternoon. When she wasn’t out here watching people enter the downtown Boston hotel, she was inside, pacing the elegant suite she’d been stuck in since leaving Carl’s office late last night.

Carl, Jonathan Sherbrooke, and Lily, Brett’s press secretary, had all agreed it would be best if she stayed where the media couldn’t easily find her until after the press conference. Since it would take place at the Sherbrooke Regency, Brett decided they’d stay in a suite there at least until after the press conference. If the media did discover where she was, hotel security could keep the reporters away from her. Jen hadn’t argued, not even when Carl suggested she not return home for an appropriate outfit. Instead he’d told her to give Dee her clothing and shoe size. The assistant had arrived at their suite with several outfits, underwear, and matching shoes an hour ago.

“I’m calling down for tea. Can I order you anything?” Judith Sherbrooke stepped out on the balcony.

She’d knocked on the suite door not long after Jen and Brett arrived yesterday, despite the time. She’d spent some time going over the best ways to handle the reporters today before leaving. Jen didn’t know if Brett’s parents had stayed at the hotel, but bright and early this morning, they’d knocked on the door and the four of them had breakfast together. Although Brett and his dad left not long after they finished eating, Judith had remained with her.

“Tea sounds great.” If she was holding a teacup, she couldn’t pick her nails again. They’d been a mess after breakfast, so Judith called the spa downstairs. Its manager had immediately sent up someone to give Jen a new manicure. If she ruined her nails again, there wouldn’t be time to get them fixed before the press conference.

Jen expected Brett’s mom to go back inside. Instead she remained outside and gazed down at the news vans parked down below. “Try to relax. You’re going to do fine today. You’re well prepared, and we’ll all be close by.” She placed her hand over Jen’s on the railing. “Come inside. I’m still waiting to hear about how you and my son met.”

She knew sharing the details wouldn’t distract her from what awaited her downstairs, but it would help pass the time.

The suite door opened right after she told Judith about finding the picture of Brett with his two cousins on the internet. Brett and his dad walked in together. She hadn’t heard from Brett since he left for Carl’s office. If he was smiling now, their meeting must have gone well.

Even though his parents were present, Brett kissed her. “Carl’s people located Debra McCormick, the restaurant owner, and her husband. He’s retired from the police department, but she still owns Rustica.” He sat in the chair next to her. “They both remember the incident and are willing to corroborate your story. Someone is with them now taking their full statement.”

They had been located already? She’d only given the campaign manager the full story last night. Clearly Carl was one resourceful man. Jen was glad he was on Brett’s side and not working for the opposition.

“Awesome.” At least the media wouldn’t be able to use one part of the story against Brett any longer.

“We need to head downstairs,” he said, causing the butterflies in her stomach to grow extra-long wings.

His parents promised to meet them in the hallway and left the room, but Jen didn’t move.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Jenner.”

“Jenner?” she asked, aware she was stalling but not caring.

Brett brushed his thumb over her hand, the slight touch helping to at least ease the anxiety inside her. “I told you I’d come up with a nickname for you,” he said patiently, as if there wasn’t a roomful of reporters waiting for them. “It’s a hell of a lot better than Buster. What do you think?”

“I like it.” She couldn’t stall all day. “Come on, Buster. Let’s get this over with.”

Momentary panic swept through her as she watched Lily approach the podium and address the packed room. Jen didn’t hear the woman’s words until Lily said, “Jennifer Wallace.”

When Lily said her name, it was her cue to join the press secretary. Despite knowing what she needed to do, her feet refused to move.

“You’ve got this, Jenner,” Brett whispered. “And remember I love you.”