Chapter Eleven

Sunday afternoon rather than head right back to D.C. from Martha’s Vineyard as planned, Sara returned to Cliff House instead. With her decision regarding Callie made, she wanted to move forward with it. If she went back to D.C. first, one of two things might happen, either she would change her mind or drive herself insane trying to come up with the right words. If she went back to Cliff House today, neither would happen.

As the Secret Service agent turned the car onto Bellevue Avenue, Sara checked her watch. She’d called Mom earlier to make sure Callie and Dylan were still there. Mom informed her they planned to stay until late that afternoon. Sara assumed late meant sometime close to three or four. Since it was a few minutes before noon, she figured she had plenty of time.

Pulling into the garage, the agent parked next to Dylan’s brand new Aston Martin and turned off the ignition of her car. Although Dylan’s car was one of the car company’s newest models, it looked identical to the previous Aston Martin he owned. If Dylan was anything, it was predictable, and this car, like all his other vehicles, was jet black with a black leather interior.

Jake’s Lamborghini and a few other cars in the garage told her several family members remained. Not what she wanted today. If the conversation with Callie snowballed into an argument, she didn’t need a house full of relatives witnessing it.

Get moving. She’d put on her big girl panties this morning—she could do this. Sara slammed the car door closed. She dealt with the bureaucrats on the Hill all the time. If she could handle them, she could handle a conversation with her half sister. No problem.

The further away from the garage she got, the slower her feet moved. When she passed the dog kennel her parents built when she’d been showing dogs in competitions, she paused. Today Lucky, Callie’s Border terrier, ran around barking excitedly at her. Without a second thought, she stepped inside to pet him. As she ran a hand down the dog’s back, he licked her free hand, his tongue warm against her skin, evoking memories of Sebastian, the last Beagle she’d owned. He’d passed away the previous year at the age of fifteen, and she hadn’t adopted another yet. Right now her schedule kept her away from home a lot, and it seemed unfair to have a dog if she couldn’t be at home with it. Dogs needed plenty of attention, something she knew she couldn’t give right now.

Sara gave the small dog one last pet, then stood. “No more stalling, Lucky.” The dog remained at Sara’s feet looking up at her expectantly. “Maybe I’ll stop by again before I leave.”

Closing the gate behind her, Sara crossed the lawn and entered Cliff House through a back door. When she didn’t find Callie after a stroll through all the downstairs rooms, she climbed the central staircase to the second floor. She walked down the hallway to Callie and Dylan’s suite, the cement mixer already churning in her stomach kicking up a notch. When she reached the door, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths then knocked. Almost right away the door swung open.

“Hi Callie.”

“Hey, Sara, if you’re looking for Dylan, he went golfing with Warren.” Callie’s expression and tone remained neutral, not giving Sara any hint of her feelings.

A knot the size of a tennis ball formed in her throat, threatening to choke her. Somehow Sara managed to talk around it. “I… uh… stopped by to talk to you actually.”

Callie’s eyes grew wide, but otherwise her expression remained the same. “Okay,” she answered, her voice drawing out each syllable as she pulled the door open further.

Got past the front door, so far so good. Sara followed Callie to the sitting area where a black leather love seat and a matching armchair stood in front of a flat screen television. When Callie sat in the armchair, Sara moved toward the love seat and sat down. Dropping her shoulder bag, she looked around and wondered if all the furniture in her half brother’s penthouse was still black as well or had Callie redecorated. She hadn’t visited Dylan in New York since before his and Callie’s wedding.

“Did you want to talk about Healy’s initiative? I know the vote is coming up soon.”

Sara toyed with the bracelet on her arm, but kept her eyes focused on Callie. “No.” She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “I wanted to talk… uh… about…” Sara paused midsentence unhappy with her choice of words. “I came here to apologize... and explain.” The words came out in a rush, somewhat blending together.

Callie remained silent, not even blinking, and Sara held her breath waiting for some response.

“Oh… okay.” Callie leaned forward, placing the palms of her hands on her thighs.

With a whoosh, Sara exhaled. “When we first met, I acted like a bitch.” Sugar coating it made no sense. She’d acted like a bitch, plain and simple. “I was in the wrong, and I’m sorry.”

The words hung over them, the tension in the room thick.

“Sara—”

“No, wait—let me finish.” She needed to get it all out at once with no interruptions. “A month before Dad received your mom’s letter, I broke up with a man I’d been dating for a while. We met at a D.C. fundraiser. Things got serious fast, or at least I thought the relationship was serious.” Clenching her jaw, she paused for a moment. She detested pulling thoughts of Phillip out from the box she kept them in.

“Turned out he worked for Richardson. He’d gotten close to me so he could dig up some dirt to use against Dad during the campaign. When you suddenly appeared, I thought you were someone else hoping to use the family name for your gain. Someone who could not only hurt the ones I care about but also ruin Dad’s political career. It had happened in the past.”

Done. She’d managed to get it all out. Now came the wait. What was Callie thinking? Her expression gave nothing away.

The second hand on the mantle clock ticked by, the only sound heard as they stared at each other. A trickle of sweat and apprehension slid down her back. Had she just exposed herself for nothing?

“That’s why you acted the way you did?” Callie’s voice held nothing but disbelief. “I thought you hated me because of the relationship Warren had with my mom. I assumed you saw me as some kind of second-class citizen because of who she was, or I guess who she wasn’t, considering who your mother is.”

Sara cringed. Before Callie voiced her assumptions, she hadn’t considered how Callie perceived her behavior. “Honestly, Callie, none of that bothered me. I’m not going to lie. I found the idea of Dad having a child with another woman, a little, I guess you could say… odd, but it happened before my parents met. If I made you feel that way, I’m sorry about that too.”

She hadn’t thought much past the apology and explanation. “I know this is all kind of sudden, but I hoped we could start over. Forget the past happened and get to know each other.” There, she’d extended herself, now it was up to Callie to accept or not.

The neutral expression on her half sister’s face finally changed. “I’d like that. I always wanted a sister,” she answered with a tentative smile.

Sara released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Me too. Next time you visit D.C., let’s plan on getting together.”

Callie nodded. “And if you’re in New York, stop by. I don’t think you’ve seen the apartment since we redecorated.”

“Sounds good.”

Relief oozed from Sara, when she left Cliff House twenty minutes later. She’d accomplished her goal. She’d cleared the air between them and they’d agreed to start over. Who knew what would happen in the future? The possibility they’d never have a close relationship remained, but at least now they could be in the same room together without the tension. If for no other reason, today’s visit had been worth it.

Hopefully, though, they’d get to know each other better. They may never be as close as she and Jake, but they’d grown up together. Then again, Jake and Callie were close, so perhaps you didn’t need a shared past in order to have a strong sibling relationship. Either way, only time would tell.

***

Ten more e-mails, the damn things never stopped coming. Even though only a select group of individuals had Christopher’s direct e-mail address, there still remained a constant stream of messages. Stifling a yawn, he scanned the names listed next to each one. He doubted any were dire emergencies, but he couldn’t put the messages off until morning even though at the moment his mind was ready to call it a day. While his watch said seven o’clock, his body kept telling him differently. It seemed to think he was still on the East Coast. Not that he blamed it. Over the past several weeks, he’d done a lot of time zone hopping, and it’d finally caught up with him.

The first eight e-mails required only short replies, nothing he found taxing. The ninth caught his attention. Opening the message from Senator Healy, he smiled after reading the contents. Both the Washington Post Tracking Poll and the Gallup Poll showed support for Healy’s education initiative was high and, while it wasn’t a guarantee the Senate would approve it, the polls made it seem likely. Just what he wanted to hear.

After answering the last e-mail, he logged off his computer and left his office and work behind for the night.

Less than half an hour later, Christopher turned on the large flat-screen television in his media room and plopped down with some heated-up leftovers. One benefit of having his sister stay with him while her townhouse was remodeled—she cooked all his favorite meals. His cook came in a few days a week and prepared meals for him, so the refrigerator was always full of delicious premade meals he could heat up. The only problem with the arrangement, the cook didn’t believe in everyday meals. She made a fuss whenever he asked her to make some of his favorites like shepherd’s pie or plain old macaroni and cheese, and when she did make them, they never tasted quite right. Somehow she always managed to put some strange twist on them in an attempt to make them gourmet. Caroline, his sister, didn’t share that problem, and she cooked almost as well as their mom. When they completed the work on her townhouse, he’d miss her cooking.

Okay, maybe not just her cooking. Having someone else around was nice too. Growing up, his house had always been full of activity and noise. Even in college and grad school he had a roommate. Since buying his first home, he’d become accustomed to living alone. That wasn’t to say he didn’t sometimes miss the craziness of a full house, but rather that he’d learned to deal with the loneliness.

However, as much as he loved his sister, he’d much rather have another woman living with him. Unfortunately, even if Sara was open to the idea, logistically it wouldn’t work. Sara’s career required her presence in D.C. at least as long as she remained David Healy’s chief of staff. He figured he had a better chance of waking up on the moon tomorrow than of her leaving D.C. to live with him. With his company’s HQ here in California, he couldn’t make a permanent move to the East Coast either.

Christopher twirled a large amount of his sister’s homemade spaghetti and sauce around his fork. It tasted as good as his mom’s sauce, the same sauce she’d learned to make from his grandmother. After marrying Angelina Hall’s only son, his grandmother taught her new daughter-in-law everything she knew about cooking. Although very different from his grandmother, Christopher could see his mom doing the same thing when he married.

As he ate, he pictured Sara in a cooking lesson with his mom. What a sight it would be. So far, the only culinary skills he’d seen Sara exhibit involved boiling water and pressing the button on the microwave. He wasn’t much better, although he could at least add grilling to his list of skills.

How would Sara react to his parents? One of these days they’d have to meet. She’d need to meet his sisters too. So far she’d only met Caroline.

His mind wandered back to the imaginary cooking lesson between Sara and his mom. A smile spread across his face at the mental image of Sara standing in his family kitchen making baklava, something Mom made every year for the holidays. She’d tried to teach him once and had given up halfway through the lesson and kicked him out.

Quickly the image shifted. Instead of Sara in his mom’s kitchen, he envisioned him and her cooking together in his kitchen. He really liked that vision.

His ringing cell phone caused the picture to evaporate.

Pulling the cell phone from his pocket, Christopher checked the screen. “I was just thinking about you,” he said, answering the phone. “I thought you’d call last night.”

He’d picked up his cell phone three different times the night before prepared to call her. She’d never said she would call, but he’d expected to hear from her after her meeting with Callie.

“I was going to call, but I got home later than expected.” She sounded as tired as he felt. She’d been hopping back and forth between time zones almost as much as him.

Christopher leaned back, prepared for a long conversation. Before Sara entered his life, he never did long phone calls. Short and to the point worked fine for him. Long in-depth talks were better conducted face to face. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option tonight.

“How did it go?”

“Okay, I think.” Sara’s positive reply didn’t match her hesitant tone.

“But?”

“Nothing. I explained everything and we agreed to put the past behind us. We’ll see what happens.”

Sara tried to dismiss the importance of the situation, but he knew the truth. She’d taken a big emotional risk approaching Callie—a risk he hoped would pay off. “That means you have nothing else to say on the matter, right?”

Her sweet laugh carried over the phone, and he smiled.

“You’re so smart. Let’s talk about next weekend instead. I think it’s my turn to come out there.”

With the week stretched out before him, the weekend seemed like a lifetime away. He had many obligations already scheduled for the week, half of them in Texas. “I’ll come there again. I’ll be in Texas until Thursday afternoon anyway. When I’m done there, I fly to D.C.”