Sweetheart
““I’m patriotic,” the senator announced in a rapid and nervous tone of voice. “Voted for Reagan and will again. Love the man. I’m a Democrat, naturally, but the country comes first.” He smiled tentatively through the heat, the June sun lying hot on his neatly barbered and sharply parted white hair. His face was large and puffy, with dark eyes embedded in the soft flesh. Suddenly he squinted. “Listen, Lieutenant, I’ve nothing to hide.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Christopher Wade said.
“I’ve nothing to... fear.”
“You certainly have nothing to fear from me, Senator.”
“Call me Joe.” His smile was cautiously bright. “You can understand my uneasiness. Some people think all politicians are fair game.”
“I thought it best to see you here in New Hampshire,” Wade said. “Less awkward for us.”
“I appreciate it. God knows what the Globe would make of it. Honest men have a hard time surviving these days. Look, may I call you Chris?”
“Of course.”
“Come,”MoreLess
“I’m sure you don’t,” Christopher Wade said.
“I’ve nothing to... fear.”
“You certainly have nothing to fear from me, Senator.”
“Call me Joe.” His smile was cautiously bright. “You can understand my uneasiness. Some people think all politicians are fair game.”
“I thought it best to see you here in New Hampshire,” Wade said. “Less awkward for us.”
“I appreciate it. God knows what the Globe would make of it. Honest men have a hard time surviving these days. Look, may I call you Chris?”
“Of course.”
“Come,”MoreLess
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