He gave her a big smile. “Thanks, Cory, for bringing Mia back.” When Hughes had removed himself, closing the door behind him, the noise level fell magically to a low distinct rumble. He said, “Thank you for coming. Cory has assured me he trusts you to be unbiased. As I told you last night, I’ve been impressed with your blog Voices in the Middle. I think you’ll find echoes of some of your thoughts in my own campaign, and in my agenda for the city. It’s very brave of you, isn’t it, given the current no-holds-barred political climate? Too many of us have reduced politics to defending our own tribe, our own turf, rather than nurturing what unites us, and working to make the city a better place to live. Bloodying each other isn’t going to get us there.”

Harrington had quoted practically verbatim from her blog, which meant he’d done his homework before she’d arrived. He was being smart, careful, stacking the deck in his favor as best he could. Mia nodded, smiled at him as he came around his desk, pulled out a chair for her. She stepped forward and shook his outstretched hand, a strong hand, with a firm grip. Had he practiced it? She looked down and froze, her breath caught in her throat. On his left wrist was a thick silver link bracelet. Automatically, she looked at his left earlobe. Of course there was no sign of a tear. Stop it—don’t be an idiot, lots of men wear bracelets like that, they’re popular, manly. Get a fricking grip.

Harrington said in his pleasing baritone that had carried, she remembered, to the very back of the large ballroom, “Please call me Alex. Come, sit down, let’s talk. May I call you Mia?”

He’d already called her Mia, but of course she nodded, sat, and opened her tablet. A staffer knocked and came in, bearing coffee, tea, and cookies. She said as she set the plate down on the desk, “I rescued these yummy Scottish shortbreads before the hordes could ravage them. I love your blog, Ms. Briscoe.” She was out the door before Mia could even say thank you.

“That’s my campaign secretary and guard dog, Mrs. Millicent. Her last name is never used. Her sister’s been my secretary at First Street Corp. for as long as I’ve been New York director.”

Mia took a shortbread to be polite, but since it wasn’t chocolate it didn’t really count as a treat. She accepted a cup of black coffee.

Alex Harrington sat back down, steepled his long fingers, and cocked his head.