Litchfield regarded the baby severely. “Give it to me, Beatrice.”

“Nah!”

Fortunately, Button’s exclamation discharged the chunk of roll. In a motion as elegant as the sweep of a polo mallet, Litchfield whipped a snowy handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks, picked up the gummy dough, and deposited it in the wastebasket that sat on top of Nealy’s credenza, away from toddler temptation.

“Hollings may not be the best senator we have, but he’s always been loyal to the party, and he’s extremely upset.”

She and her father had been arguing over her decision to run for the Senate ever since she’d made up her mind last month. Now she leaned back in her chair and propped one of her stockinged feet on Squid, who was curled beneath her desk. “Then find some other way to reward him because I’m going after his seat in the primary.”

“Not without my support, you won’t!”

“Dad,” she said, as gently as she could, “I don’t need your support.”

The office door banged open and Lucy rushed in—teenage cavalry to the rescue. “I’m home.”

“So I see.” Nealy smiled at her very protective new daughter-to-be.

She looked like most of the other fourteen-year-olds in the private school the two of them had chosen for its excellent academics and democratic atmosphere: draw-string pants, skimpy dark brown sweater, ugly thick-soled shoes, and too many ear-pierces. But Lucy’s fresh young beauty shone through.

She wore her shiny brown hair in a funky little cut with a pair of small oval barrettes holding back her bangs. The complexion problems that tormented so many girls her age had passed Lucy by, and her sweet, smooth skin was mercifully free of the thick cosmetics she’d once hidden behind. Her fingernails were no longer bitten to the quick, and she held herself with new assurance. Nealy’s heart swelled with pride.

Lucy studiously ignored James Litchfield as she marched over to stand next to her. “So . . . do you want to come listen to my new CD?”

Nealy had already listened to Lucy’s new CD, and she wasn’t fooled. “Later, honey. Dad and I are discussing my political future.” And then, just to stir things up . . . “He’s still fighting me about going after Hollings’s seat.”

“Really, Cornelia, Lucille’s much too young to understand this. I hardly think she’s interested.”

“I’m very interested,” Lucille shot back. “I even get to work on the campaign.”

He gave a dismissive sniff. “You know nothing at all about campaigning.”

“I know that some of the seniors at my school are eighteen, which means they can vote. And all the kids my age have parents who vote. Me and Mom are working on a brochure just for teenagers so they’ll understand what their senator does.”