A distinguished elderly senator has already announced that he's ending his career. He starts having second thoughts, though, when he meets the man his party has chosen to run for his seat. But having given his word, he can't change his mind. Can he? Or is that only a woman's prerogative?

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Pop! Another camera flash as one last photographer tried to capture the moment. The Senator cringed inwardly, but held his smile. So many flashes had gone off that he was, for all intents and purposes, temporarily blind. Well, that's another thing he wouldn't miss, he told himself.

"Senator?" The senator's Chief of Staff, Brett Williams, grasped his elbow in a futile attempt to get him back to the office.

Senator Jack Micheals brushed off Brett's hand. "Just a minute, son," he said in his warm, friendly voice. "Let me enjoy this one."

Finally, the flashing stopped, and he could see that the reporters were packing their recorders and starting to drift out. They had their stories, so they could ignore him now. The Senator sighed and turned. He retrieved his carved hickory cane, and then limped slowly out of the press room, Brett faithfully at his side. The door closed behind them, giving the duo a bit of privacy.

"That was great," Brett said, honest admiration in his voice. Rarely did one see true heartfelt speeches in this town.

The Senator snorted. "Son, that weren't nothin'." There was a touch of the backwoods in his voice, a Southern drawl crossed with a tint of hillbilly. "Why, back when I was your age, a man spoke his mind regular-like." He paused to rub his weary eyes with his wrinkled, weathered hand, and then he ran that same hand through his neatly combed white hair, leaving a tussled mop in its wake. "Times like this make me feel old, son." He sighed and resumed his limping walk. "Old."

**********

The car, as summoned, pulled up to the curb. In a well-practiced routine, Brett opened the door and helped the old senator outside. It wasn't really a job for a Chief of Staff, but Brett honestly liked being with the old man, ever since he'd first come to the Senator's staff as a starry-eyed high school page all those years ago. The senator now wore a dark navy overcoat over his suit to shut out some of the early March chill. As Brett opened the door, the old man smiled. "That's another thing I won't miss," he drawled. "The dadgum cold." He shivered involuntarily. "This town is too cold. Only fit for Yankees!" He let Brett hold his cane as he slid into his limo.

Brett bent forward and handed the cane to the senator. Inside, he saw a lovely young lady sliding closer to the elderly gentleman. He smiled to himself; he knew that the old man had a reputation as a ladies' man. But, unlike some of the other residents of this town, he was a true gentleman. This was no one-night-stand bimbo; it was the senator's latest girlfriend.

As he closed the door after his boss, Brett reflected over his years with the senator. In all that time, Senator Micheals had never been married. He was a widower, and he truly missed his departed wife. Still, a man has his needs, and the senator had never suffered from lack of companionship. Every one of the senator's girlfriends had been treated very well; the senator placed his women on a pedestal, treating them with respect and admiration. In every case, it was the woman who had decided to break off the relationship, not the senator. And the senator truly suffered heartbreak every time.

The limo door opened, surprising the aide. "Brett," the senator called out, "set up a trip home? It's too durned cold here, and I need to warm up my old bones." The door slammed shut again, and the limo sped off.

Brett Williams stood at the curb, snow falling gently from the gray skies around him, and stared after the departed limo. Damn, but he was going to miss that old coot. There weren't many like him, not in this town anyway. And suddenly, with a chill, Brett realized that he was going to miss him for more practical - and personal - reasons.

Brett dusted the snow from his shoulders and shuffled back into the Russell Senate Office Building. He thought of his future; with the senator's surprise announcement, his own job was precarious. In this town, loyalty had a strange, twisted definition, but Brett served the old man long and well because he believed in the true definition, the old definition. He shook his head as he walked to the senator's office. How many times had he been asked to lie to the old man? How many times had he been asked to spy, to pass information or thoughts from Senator Jack, as he preferred to be called, to the party leadership? Never once had he even considered doing it; it would have been a betrayal of Jack's trust that Brett could never live with. Even in this vicious town, he couldn't do it. Not for himself, not for the party, not for money. He chuckled ironically; the tabloids and media would have paid handsomely for details of Senator Jack's lady friends. In fact, they had offered, many times. Brett could have retired a wealthy man if only he'd betrayed his mentor. His friend.

The word hit Brett like a hammer. That was it - he wasn't losing a mentor or a boss; he was losing a friend, a rare commodity in DC. He slumped into his chair, feeling a loss that had been, until a moment ago, merely academic.

"Brett, you okay?"

Brett sighed and cleared his head. He pasted on a smile and turned to the voice. "Sure, Cindy." He sighed again. "I'm going to miss him, you know."

Cindy's fingers stopped their dance across her keyboard. Her face saddened for a brief moment. Like Brett, she'd started out as a page, but at one of his field offices, before she 'graduated' to a full-time job in the capital in the very respectable position of analyst. No legislation passed the Senator's desk without her having seen it and given a recommendation. "So he went through with it?"

Brett nodded. "Yup. He made the announcement."

Cindy bit her lip. "So he's not running," she said to herself. "Well, I guess we've got until next January to get something else."

Brett shook his head slowly. "No, Cindy." He sighed yet again. "He's resigning his seat this summer. It's his way of sticking it to the leadership."

Cindy closed her eyes momentarily. "I thought he'd fight to the end," she said softly.

Brett nodded. "So did I. But I think they knocked the fight out of him."

"The press?" She snorted her disdain for the dominant media. "Those root weevils never bothered him before. And the other side of the aisle has been a pain, but he's always shrugged them off. Until now, that is."

"It's not them, Cindy," Brett said softly, sadly. "When the party leadership left him high and dry, abandoning him when they thought his stance was unpopular, when they wouldn't utter so much as a peep in his defense, that's what got him." He stared at Cindy. "You know, I think that's when he realized how old he was. He's been talking a lot about how none of his friends in the old days would have acted like his own party is acting now." Brett shook his head and reached to turn on his computer. "Moral cowards," he said softly. "That's what he called them. Moral cowards."

**********

Riding in a limousine would have been a bit pretentious; Senator Jack opted for a pickup truck, even with his status as a senior senator. It suited him; it was easy to see that all those years in the nation's capital hadn't taken the country out of the man. Instead of his suit, he wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a casual polo shirt; even so attired, there was something about him that commanded respect. It was the way he carried himself - with dignity and pride. He looked like an old gentleman, not just another white-haired retiree.

Beside him sat his girlfriend Jennifer. He gave her a quick glance as he drove. In his heart, he knew that she'd probably leave him as soon as he resigned, if not before. Jennifer looked attractive in her shorts and clingy knit shirt; her long sexy legs and curvaceous body were nicely displayed, but without the slightest hint that she was a bimbo. No, she looked refined and ladylike.

"Why can't you just think of it as an extra day off?" Jennifer asked simply, trying to bring some light to the situation.

Jack snorted. "Dadgummed fool! He knew I was thinking about retiring." His eyes were narrow slits, anger seething behind them. "He should have been ready. Instead, I have to wait for him to make up his mind." His mood was dark. "I druther be up at the cabin," he added needlessly.

Jennifer shrugged. "Well, you did surprise them a bit," she observed calmly. "The last time you met the governor and the party officials, you _did_ give them the impression that you'd retire _after_ the session was over."

Jack snorted disgustedly. "Well, they should have been grooming a candidate all along."

They drove in silence for a few moments, but Jennifer knew that Jack's anger was already nearly gone. It just wasn't in his character to be upset for very long. "As long as we're stuck here, can we have some fun?" she asked.

Jack actually smiled. "What do you have in mind, sugah?" he asked.

Jennifer smiled, at the same time as her mind raced. They hadn't planned anything; the extra couple of days here were a bonus. So it was time to improvise. Still, Jack expected her to have a plan, and she needed to come up with something quickly. As she thought, the pickup speeding down the freeway, she spied a sign that gave her an idea. A large billboard, advertising a water park. "Oh, look!" she exclaimed. "That looks like fun!" She went into pleading mode. "How about it, Jack? It'd be like a day at the beach."

Jack gave her a quick glance and sighed. When she was ready to plead, there wasn't much point in arguing. She had her ways of persuading him. "I guess we could try," he answered.

Jennifer gave a squeal of delight. "Okay, I think we need to take this exit."

The senator gave her a quick smile. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "I've never gone to one of these water park things." He touched his leg involuntarily. "And you know I can't go on those fancy daredevil rides."

Jennifer smiled. "They're a lot of fun." She laid her hand atop his. "And there are lots of things to do that are nice and relaxing. Just what we both need."

The truck wheeled into the parking lot, and Jack whistled softly. "Lot of cars," he said. "Must be a popular place." Then he spied the condos next door. "So this is the place Ronnie was talking about." He sensed, rather than saw, the confused look on Jennifer's face. "Ronnie Harris, the developer? She's been a good friend for years. Anyway, some time ago, she said something about a condo project next door to a water park." It was easy to recognize one of Ronnie Harris' projects; she disdained the sterile steel, concrete, and glass monoliths that so many others built. Instead, her projects had distinctive and old-fashioned architectural style. Every project had a dominant theme, carried through in a unique Ronnie Harris style.

The truck glided into a parking spot and the duo disembarked. Jennifer fetched the small duffel bags from the back, and with Jack limping on his cane, the two walked slowly toward a squat little ticket booth that marked the entrance.

As they neared the booth, Jack smiled. "Lots of young ladies here today," he said to Jennifer. "Maybe this was a good idea after all."

Jennifer smiled. "You're with me, you old coot. And don't you forget it."

"Can I help ...." The pretty brunette in the ticket booth cut off her canned introduction. "Excuse me. Welcome to Bikini Beach, Senator. My name is Anya, and my grandmother owns this park." She frowned slightly. "I should have known you were coming." She started to press a button on the intercom, but stopped. "Grandmother will be here in a minute." She gave Jennifer a friendly smile. "Two guest passes. One day only, right? Our compliments."

Jennifer started to reach for them, but Jack shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, young lady, but I've never in my life accepted anything from anyone. It wouldn't be proper, you see."

The young lady started to protest, but an old woman coming around the corner stopped her. "Charge the senator the usual price, Anya." The old woman was medium height, and a little chubby; she looked to be in her mid-sixties. Her weathered face displayed a warm smile. "Welcome to our humble little park, Senator. We don't get many distinguished visitors."

The senator slid his credit card to Anya, and then took the old woman's hand in a hearty handshake. "I didn't realize I was famous," the senator said lightly.

Anya slid the card through the machine. As it started to print the receipt, she smiled. "Maybe not with everyone, but you're certainly a hit with grandmother." The old woman gave Anya a warning look, but the girl continued. "She talks about you all the time." Anya smiled. "It speaks pretty highly of your integrity and honesty when grandmother praises you so much."

Both Jack and the old woman were blushing. "I hope not everyone in the park is going to gush over me," the senator said. "I'm here to relax, not sign autographs." He gave the ladies a friendly smile, with a warm twinkle in his eye. "And please, call me Jack."

The old woman smiled, giving Anya a quick wink. "Oh, don't worry, Jack. No one is going to ask you for an autograph today." She grinned. "Except maybe me."

**********

Senator Jack stood for a moment before the mirror, clad in his sandals and swim trunks. For a man of his age, and despite his lame knee, badly shattered and scarred by a Nazi mortar all those years ago in Europe, he was in surprisingly good shape. A few pounds overweight, perhaps, but that was because he didn't exercise much. Even swimming hurt, more so than anyone knew; even his departed wife had never known just how much pain Jack lived with every day. His muscles were strong enough, but the damage to the bones and ligaments and tendons left him unable to bend the knee without severe pain. It was an agony that reminded him with every slight movement, with each bend of the leg, of that day when his world had nearly ended. In a way, Jack was grateful for the pain; it reminded him of how close the Angel of Death had come, and how much he should revel in the days he had.

As he turned the shower on, he couldn't help asking himself what he was doing here. He'd never done anything like this, not even with his wife. But Jennifer had talked him into this, so he stepped under the spray and decided he was going to enjoy it.

A mild gasp of surprise escaped the senator's lips as the warm spray soaked in. It felt good. Really good. It was like the warmth was washing the pain and stiffness away. When he turned off the water, he stepped from the shower, and was astonished to find that not only didn't his knee hurt, but it wasn't even stiff.

Senator Jack glanced down at his leg, as if to reassure himself that everything was okay. After all, nearly fifty years' worth of pain didn't just vanish.

Jack froze. He wasn't staring at his leg, of that he was certain. There was no flab, no hair, no wrinkled skin spotted with age spots. The leg was more like...Jennifer's! The thought of his leg looking like Jennifer's sexy feminine leg slammed into his brain, paralyzing him with shock. And even as he stood, immobile, his eyes scanned further. Other changes were evident. His stomach was flat, devoid of even a trace of fat. He could see that his hips were wider, and even as he stared, stupefied, they seemed to grow even wider, rounder, while his waist contracted like a deflating balloon. Even his swim trunks were affected; like liquid cloth, they flowed and changed, until they looked more like the sexy bikini Jennifer usually wore.

A knock at the door was insufficient to snap Jack from his shocked trance. The door opened a crack, and Jack managed to look up as a wedge of sunlight stabbed into the locker room.

"Senator?" the old woman asked, her head poked into the room, "Jack? Are you okay?"

The old gentleman gasped. "Uh," he stammered, "what's happening to me?"

The old woman slid through the door, allowing it to close behind her. "I suppose I should have told you, but there's no harm now." She took Jack's hands, and Jack glanced down to see that they, too, were no longer his large, rough masculine hands. Feminine. Like Jennifer's. The old woman guided the senator to a bench, and eased him down. "This park is a haven for ladies. I built it as a refuge from the leering eyes of men. Men who, unlike you, treat women as sex objects." She was watching him intently, making sure that he was following her. "I use magic to protect my patrons. If a man enters, the magic changes him to a young lady. After he leaves, he changes back to normal."

Jack's mouth was opening as she spoke; her words seemed so clear and loud, unlike the dulled speech his old ears had been delivering to his brain. And everything seemed so sharply in focus, so vibrantly colored. Even the tiny breeze through the air vent touched his senses, amazing him. How much had he lost through the years, sensations fading away so slowly with age that he wasn't even aware that they were changing? He started, and realized that he'd missed what the old woman had said. "I'm sorry," he apologized, and his eyes widened at the soft alto voice emanating from his mouth. "I didn't quite follow."

The old woman smiled; she'd sensed the wonder. He was distracted rather than frightened. "I was saying that my magic will keep you as a young lady while you're in the park. After you leave, around midnight, you'll change back to normal. And Jennifer won't notice that you're missing; she thinks she's come to the park with a friend."

"Amazing," the senator said. Then he laughed. "To think what I could have done in the Senate if I had but a fraction of your magic." He watched the old woman's eyes, and saw a flicker of concern. "Oh, don't fret, young lady," he said with a smile, still enchanted with his soft voice. "I was just thinking of a few votes that might have turned out a little differently had some of my distinguished colleagues had the same experience I'm having." The word 'distinguished' was laced with venom, anger at his treatment by these same colleagues.

The old woman smiled. "So, you'll give the day a try?"

Jack grinned. "Darlin', my daddy learned me a long time ago that the man afraid of tryin' somethin' new is the man just a'waitin' to be planted." He glanced down at his resculpted body, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the shapely breasts jutting from his chest. Between the vivid sensations of his renewed nerves and the changes he had seen, he'd been too distracted to notice them. "Holy cow," he exclaimed softly. "That's some magic! This is a real woman's body!" He looked genuinely surprised now. His eyes widened, not in anxiety, but in curiosity. "How far do the changes really go? Do I have...?" Even being changed into a woman, there were certain things that a gentleman never talked about.

The old woman smiled. She knew what he was thinking. "You've got a full set of plumbing to go with your remodeled front porch. And it's fully functional." She watched as the implications sank in, then she nodded. "That's right, Jack. If you wanted to, you could go out and really learn how the other half lives. Including makin' babies, as you so fondly say."

The senator digested that new datum and then smiled. "Don't be worryin' about that, young lady. I've got no mind to see how far I can push this." He stood, and was surprised when the old woman handed him a bikini top that she'd produced seemingly from thin air. Before she could speak, he smiled briefly. "I suppose being a woman for the day includes using proper modesty, right?" He took the bikini, and with an ease that baffled him, he tied it on. "And yes," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "I intend to have a fun relaxing day, something I haven't had in far too many years."

**********

A knock at the office door interrupted the old woman and Anya as they toiled over the daily paperwork. A smile emerged on the old woman's face as she felt the identity of her visitor. She pushed the intercom button. "Come in, Jackie," she said cheerfully.

The door opened and the senator, going by Jackie for the day, stepped in. Now wearing a modest skirt and blouse, she was done playing for the day. She smiled at the two ladies at the desk. "I just wanted to stop by and say thanks for the, uh, interesting day." With the senator's old-fashioned Southern speech patterns and the soft feminine voice, she sounded thoroughly charming.

The old woman grinned. "I'm glad we could give you a day of fun." The smile faded. "But I have to say that I'm going to miss you. You've been a great inspiration in your years in the Senate."

The girl laughed to herself. "Well, I'm getting old. Too old for the petty bickering and games of the Capitol." She shook her head, but then she had a thought that produced a broad grin. "If I had this body, and the energy I felt today, I might have reconsidered resigning." She turned and walked out of the office, leaving grandmother looking thoughtfully after her.

**********

"Jack, honey," Jennifer said sweetly, "do you have to go to that meeting?" They were back in the pickup, driving through early morning traffic. Everything had gone exactly as the old woman had promised; to Jennifer, yesterday had been a day with a college friend. Then around midnight, Jack changed back to his old male self - and Jennifer didn't seem to notice any change. In fact, her memories of the previous day had changed to where she thought she had spent the day with Jack.

Jack sighed. "Yes, sugah," he answered. "I have to. They want me to meet the man the governor is going to appoint." Jennifer frowned, and Jack sensed her mood. "Don't worry, darlin'," he said reassuringly. "I promise we'll go somewhere fun after."

He wheeled the truck into a parking garage. The attendant on duty started to protest; after all, Jack drove an old truck that just didn't suit the appearance of these law offices. Then the lad recognized the senator. He eagerly waved him in.

A short walk and elevator ride later, Jack and Jennifer strode into the lobby. The receptionist waved them toward one of the conference rooms; she'd been duly warned by the parking garage attendant.

Jack walked confidently into the room, a smile on his face. He took the outstretched hand. "Tom, it’s good to see you again." The warmth in his voice was genuine as he shook the governor's hand. He turned, spotting the head of the law firm and mutual friend of him and the governor. "Lem, great to see you. How's the wife these days?" He finished his greeting and continued to scan the room. There were dozens of people present, and he carefully noted and catalogued each and every one. Only a few could be considered celebrities.

The governor smiled. "Jack, I'm glad you could make it. I suppose we could have done without this, but I wanted to let you know before we held the press conference." He grasped the old senator's elbow, turning him. "You know Ronnie Harris?" Jack shook the hand of the lovely developer, a long friend and generous campaign contributor. "And here's the man of the hour," the governor continued.

Jack turned, and felt his blood chill. He recognized the man, and felt a stab of betrayal. The governor's words were lost in the rush of anger and bitterness that coursed through the old man. Despite all his feelings, he managed - somehow - to keep a smile on his face. Despite staring at the smiling face of the junior senator's legislative assistant, the very same Judas that had engineered many of the betrayals of Jack on Capitol Hill.

**********

"Jackass!" the old senator spat as they drove out of the parking lot. "They're replacing me with a genuine jackass!" His knuckles were white from the death-grip he held on the steering wheel. Jennifer sat silently by his side; in their time together, she'd never seen him even remotely angry. His explosion was a new side of him that few had ever seen.

"Jack, if he's so bad, why don't you just keep your job?"

Jack felt his teeth grinding together. "Because I made the announcement," he spat bitterly. "What am I going to do? Call back and say 'just kidding'?" He shook his head. "I'd look like a dishonest fool!" He clenched his jaw. "Like the sum'bitch they want to replace me with! The man's a cheat and a liar!"

Jennifer didn't know what to do. "So why don't you name someone to replace you?" she asked innocently. "If you made a public announcement of who you thought was qualified, and beat the governor to the punch, then...."

She wasn't a dumb blonde, Jack thought. Not by a long stretch. "That'd work," he admitted. "But that's not how I do business, and I'm not about to start acting like a scoundrel."

Jennifer let the subject drop. Jack was very deeply troubled by the meeting, and he was brooding. She knew him well enough to know that he was a man of integrity, and doing anything at this point was beyond his most innermost beliefs. As they drove, she spied the water park. Jennifer got an idea. "Jack, honey, why don't we go back to that park?" Her voice took on a sugary sweet tone as she pleaded in the way only an attractive woman can. "Please? We had so much fun, and it might help take your mind off things."

Jack gave her a glance, puzzled. If only she knew, he thought. Then some random thoughts stirred, and he had the sudden impression that he was missing something important, some vital clue. He turned back to the road, concentrating on his thoughts and memories. For several minutes, he stared silently through the windshield. Something was there....

A grin broke over his grizzled face. "Okay, hon," he said. "I think we could both use a little rest." He steered the pickup to the next exit, and as they rolled down the off ramp, he began to scan, searching for a way to get back to the park.

A few turns and minutes later, the pickup pulled back into the parking lot. Jack turned to Jennifer. "Hon, why don't you go ahead. I want to have a talk with the owner first."

Jennifer frowned, but then she let the atmosphere of the park overtake her. "Okay," she said, leaning to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be at the lagoon getting some sun. Don't take too long." She started to crawl out of the pickup and gave him a warning glance. "No politics." She strode lightly toward the gate.

Jack watched her go and sighed. This was crazy, he thought to himself. But he slowly crawled from the pickup, then took his cane and began his slow trek across the asphalt.

The intercom clicked to life even as Jack reached for the button. "Good morning, Jack. Come in, please." Jack shook his head; after the last impossible twenty-four hours, he was more surprised at the timing than the fact that the old woman was expecting him. He opened the door and limped into the office.

The old woman led him past her desk to another room, a small, intimate meeting room. She gestured to one chair and seated herself in another. On the coffee table, she'd already set out soft drinks; the ice hadn't even started to melt, and his soda was a sarsaparilla, and even his favorite brand. Jack's eyebrows lifted at the arrangements. "I take it you were expecting me?"

The old woman laughed. "Let's just say that I sensed that you were coming." She leaned forward and poured Jack's soda, then poured her own. "So, what can I do for you?"

Jack took a sip, then set the glass down and leaned back in his chair. "I don't even know why I'm here," he said slowly. "How am I supposed to know what you can do to help? Or even if you can help?"

The old woman laughed at his comment, and then she let her smile fade. "You got tired of the fight, didn't you?" It was more a statement of fact than a question. "Even when you got the shaft."

Jack nodded, his face lined with his sadness. "I tried hard to fight for what I believed. And I always thought that the leadership supported me, that they respected my views." A weariness entered his voice, echoing the sad slouch of his body. "I got double-crossed."

The old woman nodded sympathetically. "And then they decided to appoint..." Her face wrinkled in disgust, so strongly did she feel about the man who would succeed the distinguished senator that she couldn't even speak his name.

"...a lying worm," Jack finished for her. "A vile self-serving corrupt jackass."

The old lady smiled. "And there's nothing you can do, right?"

Jack's nodded solemnly. "I just can't bring myself to say or do anything. If I spoke out, it'd be wrong. I can't suggest someone to replace me."

"So you're stuck?"

Jack's enigmatic smile caught her off guard. "No, I don't think so." He took another sip of soda. "I'd like you to tell me a little more about how this magic of yours works."

**********

The press gathered in the briefing room was restless. Grumbles and speculation coursed through the room. Brett Williams and Cindy glanced from behind the door; Brett was nervous. It wasn't like Senator Jack to keep him in the dark.

"Are they ready?" Senator Jack was again impeccably attired in his suit, his polished hickory cane in hand.

Brett nodded, his expression grim. "Although I think they're a little confused."

The senator laughed. "And you are too, right, son?" He was enjoying himself, something he hadn't done for years. Not in this town, anyway. "I bet they're pretty mad that they don't have any idea of what this is about."

Brett nodded. "I think that's the understatement of the year."

Jack smiled to himself. "Okay, let's go." He waited for Brett to open the door, and then he limped into the press room. The instant the door opened, lights snapped on, blindingly bright for the cameras. A seemingly uninterrupted stream of flashes popped, adding to the disorienting light. The senator paused to let his eyes adjust, and then he limped to the podium. He waited for the press to get their photos. "Good afternoon," he drawled, exaggerating his Southern accent for the benefit of the cameras. "First, I'd like to make a statement, after which I'll take questions." He paused to take a sip of water from the glass that was always on the podium. "I spent some time down home this past week, and I had time to think." He paused for dramatic effect. "My party, my governor, have selected a worthy man to take my place in this august body, so when I vacate my seat, my state will not be without representation." He smiled, having successfully choked his way through those words. "It's no longer critical that I hang onto my seat. In fact, I'm missing the hills of home more and more, and this trip highlighted that for me." He let the ripple of speculation die down. "As you all know, years ago, just after I was first elected to public office, I lost my darlin' wife." He felt a tear in his eye, as he did every time since that terrible day all those years ago. The room was shocked by the sudden change in direction of this press conference; they were hanging on his every word. "I admit I was lonely, but I found companionship." A titter of laughter circled the room; everyone knew that the senator had had girlfriends. "And no, I'm not here to reveal the details of my friendships," he cautioned with a large grin, to the amusement of the crowd.

He gave Brett a glance, and saw the confusion on his face. Jack gave him a quick wink and turned back to the microphone. "My wife and I never had children, and I've been contemplating what I'll leave behind when I finally join my wife."

"Let me back up a moment," Jack said suddenly. "Shortly after my wife died, I found a dear friend to help me through that difficult time. We were...close." From his choice of words, and the tone of his voice, the reporters realized that this was embarrassing for the senator to admit. Again, the reporters glanced at each other, marveling at what they were hearing. This was so uncharacteristic of the senator that they were riveted; this had the potential to get quite...juicy. "While I was home, I tried to find my dear friend. Unfortunately, she died a few years ago in a car accident. I did manage to find to her brother, who gave me a letter that she hoped someday I might have." He let his voice break, and he quickly wiped the corner of his eye, then he visibly steeled himself. "I discovered that, years ago, during that time, I...that is, we...uh..." He paused again, then glanced down and swallowed. When he finally looked back at the cameras, he felt the silence in the room. "I fathered a child by my friend. She never told me, and she gave up the girl for adoption." He wiped his eye again. "After all these years, I found out that somewhere out there is a daughter that I've never known. And so, I'm going to resign my seat effective this coming Friday. I'm going home, to try to find my daughter."

**********

The man walked slowly but purposefully toward the gray building. He knocked, and was answered by the sound of the door latch releasing. He stepped into the office and saw the old woman. There was a younger woman there as well.

"Good to see you again, Jack," the old woman said as she enthusiastically shook his hand.

Jack smiled, but he was cautiously eyeing the girl. Her name was Anya, he seemed to remember. "Pleased to see you, too."

The old woman didn't miss a beat. "And this is my granddaughter, Anya. She's here to help out." The old woman waited for Jack to shake her hand; instead, he took her hand and kissed it. A tiny part of the old woman felt jealous of her granddaughter for the attention she was getting, but she pushed it aside. "Anya is a lot more versatile with her magic than I am," the old woman explained.

Jack smiled. "Everything is going on schedule."

The old woman gestured for them to sit. "According to what I saw on the news, there have been, what, fifteen or twenty girls come forward hoping that you're their daddy."

Jack smiled. "As I expected. After all, being in the Senate allows one to accumulate a little money." He glanced at Anya's wide-eyed stare. "Mine came the honest way, dear," he said with a chuckle.

Anya's expression calmed. "This is going to be tricky," she admitted. "Normally, when someone is changed, their entire background changes to match the new person. History, friends, family, everything." She saw Jack's eyes widen at the implications of her statement. "Or nothing changes. Sometimes, the change is very local, like the body and driver's license." She smiled. "Those are much easier." She gave her grandmother a sideways glance, and then turned back to the senator. "What you want is a little of both, right?" She outlined what she understood.

The senator smiled. "That's exactly it, little lady."

Grandmother took a sip of her soda. "You leave for the mountains this afternoon, right?"

Jack nodded. "Brett, my chief of staff, is taking me to my cabin. The idea is a little peace and quiet while he does some records checking. And I'm supposed to be working on my memoirs."

Grandmother looked at Anya. "Is your teleportation spell up to that?"

Anya smiled broadly. "Danni says it's as good as she - or the old man - can do. I think I'm up to it."

Grandmother glanced at Jack, a bit worried. "Are you sure about this?" she asked finally. "This is going to be tough."

Jack smiled. "Not half as tough as watching some unelected pompous ass make a mockery of everything I've tried to do for the past thirty years."

**********

Brett stood in the doorway, glancing one last time at the old senator. "You sure about this?" he asked, hoping to get the old man to change his mind.

Senator Jack settled into his chair and sighed contentedly. "I'm sure, son." He smiled. "You're a great help, and right now, I need you to do what you're asked." The smile eased a bit. "I'm a mite too old for all that runnin' around."

Brett nodded slowly. "Okay. You've got my pager number? And my cell number?"

Jack waved his cane at the door. "Shoo, boy! Go do your job. If I need anything, I know how to get a hold of you."

Brett nodded and he closed the door behind him. Moments later, the sound of a car starting filtered into the warm cabin.

A sizzling popping sound startled Jack. He knew things were going to be happening, but not so quickly. He turned to see Anya standing by the fireplace. "You took your time, little lady," he commented dryly.

Anya laughed. It was easy to see why people loved this man. "Well, I had to give him time to get out of the driveway," she replied as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. The senator actually blushed, which made Anya giggle a bit. "Are you all set?"

Jack levered himself out of his chair. "About as ready as I'm ever going to be."

Anya stood beside him, and she wrapped one arm around his waist. With the other hand, she made some intricate motions in the air as she chanted some strange sounds. There was a sizzle, and Jack felt a touch of vertigo...

...and they were standing in the office of Bikini Beach. He started to lurch forward, but Anya's arm steadied him. "Easy, Senator," she said respectfully. "Teleportation can be a bit hard on the balance."

Jack nodded and then he eased himself into a chair. "Damn, I forgot my cane," he complained as he sat.

The old woman laughed. "You won't need it," she said reassuringly. She retrieved a card from her desk and gave it to Jack. "Just like we planned. You swipe this card and you go through the showers."

Grandmother helped Jack out into the early morning sunshine, holding his arm to give the support the missing cane would have provided. He swiped his card at the gate, and then they walked slowly to the showers. A few moments later, a thirtyish young lady emerged from the locker room. The lady was moderately tall, about five feet eight inches, and very athletically built; perhaps she weighed one hundred twenty five pounds dripping wet. Not that wet hair would add much to her weight; her brunette hair was short, layered neatly in a sassy style with short bangs. She wore a stylish yet modest light blue one-piece bathing suit. In her hand, she carried a small clutch purse; a gym bag was slung over her left shoulder. With the old woman, she went back into the office.

"Okay, now what?" the girl asked as she seated herself. Without thinking, she crossed her legs in a very ladylike fashion. Then she saw what she had done and frowned.

Anya grinned. "Grandmother gave you some female skills and instincts to help out. Like keeping your legs crossed when you wear a skirt."

"Well, I'll be durned," the senator said softly.

The old woman smiled. So far, so good. "Okay, now tell me your background," she said.

The senator frowned, looking puzzled, as she concentrated on remembering the background data. Then, just as suddenly, his features cleared. "My adoptive mother and father just moved to Florida after dad retired. I've got one brother, also adopted. I got a bachelor's degree in business at Florida State," she said, as a smile crossed her lips. "I'm glad you didn't make me a lawyer. I never did much cotton to lawyers." She took a breath and continued. "I worked for eight years at a major chain retailer, but I went back to school here in town, at the university, to get a master's degree in political science. I'm supposed to graduate this spring." She paused and glanced at the old woman. "That's amazing," she said. "It all seems so real, so natural."

Anya nodded. "And your birthday?"

The senator didn't even pause as she quoted the date. "I just turned thirty-two."

Grandmother gave Anya an appreciative nod. "My Anya does good work. You have all the memories you need, with your memories of Jack's experiences." She gestured at Jack's purse. "You've got everything you need - student ID, driver's license, apartment keys. Everything. By the way, what's your name?"

Jack didn't miss a beat. "Rachel Lee Warren." Again, she seemed a bit surprised by how naturally the information came to her. "So what do we do now?"

Anya smiled. "You go about your business at the school. In two weeks, Mr. Williams is going to get a suggestion from a friend that he might want to check records at universities and colleges, just in case. I'd give him three days after that, and you should be hearing from him." Her grin widened. "He should be finding out about you right on schedule."

**********

Brett sighed as he scrolled down yet another screen full of data. This was becoming a painful search. So far, he had precious few leads. He knew, from public records, that the senator's affair with Betty Jo Morrison had produced a baby girl, Jane Doe. She was born here, in this very city, and was immediately given up for adoption. The trail went cold from there; the state's adoption records were sealed. Even the senator's political contacts couldn't help.

But he did have some ways to check. He smiled as he thought of the cute little brunette he'd met the other night. And, irony of ironies, she was an admirer of the senator. When she found out that he was the senator's chief of staff, she was very friendly. But the payoff wasn't company for the night; she'd said something about university records. Brett realized that he might have found another avenue to check.

Hence, he sat in the office, with access realized only through the senator's connections, scrolling through screen after screen of cursory data. He frowned in disgust, then hit a few keys and went back to the main search menu. Once more, he keyed in some parameters.

Brett's eyes widened when the computer displayed only six names. Female, with the correct birthdate. And all were adopted. Feeling a bit of excitement, he hit the print key. As he waited for the printer to warm up and then churn out the precious document, Brett forced himself to remain calm. There were hundreds of universities that could have similar names. And that was assuming that she had even gone to college. Still, it was the first lead he'd had in two weeks.

**********

The doorbell surprised Rachel. She took a glance through the peephole, and then she opened the door. "May I help you?" she asked cautiously.

The man outside looked tired. "Hi, I'm Brett Williams," he said in a well-worn introduction. "I'm Senator Jack Micheals' Chief of Staff." He smiled to himself. "At least, until Friday."

The girl eyed him carefully. "Okay," she said. "What can I do for you?" She got a concerned look. "Oh, god," she said aloud. "This is about my volunteer time at the party, isn't it? Did I mess up the database or something?" She looked panicked.

Brett held his hands up to ward off her alarm. "No, no," he said quickly. "Nothing like that." Then he smiled. "But I am glad to hear that you volunteer for party activities. No, I'm here for a different reason." He paused, trying to figure out the best way to say what he had to say. "Did you see or read about the senator's reason for retiring?"

Rachel shook her head cautiously. "No, but I wish he wasn't retiring," she said. "What does that have to do with me?"

Brett bit his lip. This part was always so tricky. "You were adopted, weren't you?"

Rachel's features clouded. "What do you want?" she asked, suddenly defensive.

Brett sighed. "The senator may be your father," he said wearily. "I'm helping him try to find a daughter that he fathered years ago. The mother gave her up for adoption." He had a plaintive look in his eyes as he gazed at Rachel. "Do you know who your biological mother and father are?"

Rachel sat back on the arm of a chair, stunned beyond words. For a long time, she stared at the man. "No, I don't know," she finally said. "I'm afraid I can't help you out." Then she started sobbing. "What gives you the right to barge into my life like you did?" she wailed. "What right do you have to do this to me?"

Brett stood silently, enduring her accusations and verbal assault. He'd been witness to it before, and he knew he would again. Finally, he turned to leave. His insides were churning from the turmoil he was causing. He knew it had to hurt these girls, but he also knew that he had to help his friend.

"Wait," came the tiny cry from behind him. He turned to see the girl, tear-stained cheeks, standing in her doorway. "Are you telling the truth? The senator might be my real father?"

Brett nodded slowly. "Yes."

The girl shook her head. "But the adoption records are sealed," she complained. "I've tried to find my real parents, but the laws won't let me."

Brett felt a glimmer of hope. "There is another way," he said. "Have you ever heard of DNA testing?"

**********

Rachel walked into the Bikini Beach office, closing the door behind her. "Well, so far, so good," she said. Her brow, however, was wrinkled with concern. "But I know Brett, and I know he's going to call Jack tonight. Or drive up to the cabin."

Anya smiled. "He'll do both. Your pass wears off at midnight. As soon as it wears off, I'll take you to the cabin so you're there to meet him."

Rachel nodded, but then she frowned. "But the phone call?"

Anya grinned. "He's already made a few calls to keep the senator informed." She waved her hand. "And he's been doing a good job of searching for my daughter." In pitch and tone, and in the choice of words and her accent, Anya sounded precisely like the senator. She waved her hand again. "How's that?"

Rachel's eyes widened, then she smiled. "You two are good," she acknowledged. Then his features clouded. "There is something I have to know, though." He sounded deathly serious.

Anya's gaze didn't waver. "What?"

"Betty Jo," Rachel said. "How much did you change her life?"

Anya smiled. "Touche," she said. "It's a fair question. After all, she was very important to you, wasn't she?" She watched for Rachel's reaction, and then nodded her acknowledgement. "Betty Jo did have a baby girl, and she did give her up for adoption, but she died of SIDS. She never let you know because she didn't want to give your opponents anything to use against you. She knew you were still grieving your wife's death, so she kept the secret." She lowered her eyes. "I, uh, rearranged reality a little so the little girl lived. You. Your new persona."

Rachel listened silently, and her eyes started to water. "Thank you," she said softly. "Betty Jo was a...dear friend. I'm glad you were able to make things right for her."

Anya could tell that Rachel wanted to give her a hug, but Jack's personality still had its rough masculine edges. Well, that would wear off in time. "That's why we had to change you the first day, so we could establish the revised reality. Otherwise, your story wouldn't have had any consistency."

Rachel smiled. "Pretty thorough, aren't you? Just like your grandmother said."

Anya blushed slightly at the compliment. "So what are you going to do until midnight? Want to play at the park for the rest of the day and then go out for some dinner?"

Rachel's cheeks reddened. "I've got plans already."

Anya stared, then she grinned. "Dinner date with Brett?"

Rachel looked down, embarrassed. "Well, he is nice, and he did invite me."

Anya laughed. "Spoken like a woman. Okay, come by my condo after you get back."

**********

Jack groaned as he rose from the chair. During the past three weeks, he'd forgotten how many aches and pains his old male body had. Now, they were all back. It gave him one more reason to see this thing through. He opened the door. "Good to see you, son."

Brett came in out of the early morning chill. He was tired, and he looked it; he'd driven all night to get here. He closed the door, and an involuntary shudder coursed through him. The cabin felt nice and warm. "It's been rough," he admitted. "But there's one likely girl who's taking the blood test."

Jack permitted himself a slight smile, which Brett mistook as hope. "Don't get your hopes up, yet," Brett cautioned. "The odds are that she's not your daughter." He didn't want to have to tell the old man, but he knew he had to. "Sometimes, these things can take years. Sometimes," he shuddered, "a child is never found."

Jack nodded solemnly. "I suppose that's true," he acknowledged. "So, are you staying for supper?"

Brett smelled something cooking in the kitchen; he sniffed, and a grin spread over his face as he recognized it. "Is that one of your famous elk roasts?"

**********

Rachel sat beside Brett in the office; through a pair of doors, the lab technicians were double-checking their results. To outward appearances, she looked nervous; in reality, it was Brett who was trembling with fear and anticipation. It was very late in the afternoon, and usually, the lab would have been closed. But they promised results, and despite lots of minor snags, they were going to deliver them. Privately, Rachel wondered how many of the snags were Anya's doing; she knew that timing was going to be everything for the next eighteen hours.

Finally, a doctor in a lab coat emerged from the doors. In his hand, he held a folder. He had a contented smile on his face. Brett leaped to his feet eagerly. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

The doctor ignored Brett and sat beside Rachel. He handed her the folder with a smile. "I have some good news. I hope." He watched for a reaction from the girl. "You are Senator Micheals' daughter."

Tears started trickling from Rachel's eyes. "Are you...are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

The doctor smiled. "It would be...extremely unlikely to have two men match a child's DNA in a genetic paternity test," he answered. "He's your father. The odds against it are pretty significant." He sounded almost lawyerly in his words, as if hedging against saying anything that could be used against him.

Brett listened, stunned. Then he dug in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He rapidly punched in some numbers and began tapping his foot impatiently as the phone rang. "Senator?" he asked quickly. "The results are in. They're positive." He paused to hear the senator's reaction. "No, they're absolutely sure. She's your daughter." Another pause. "I'll drive up and get you." Rachel listened to his end of the conversation with a smile. "Are you sure? Okay, I'll set it up." "Yes, I know you're current, but is it..." "Okay, I'll meet you at the airport." He got a few further words of instruction. "Okay, Senator. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned off the phone and closed it. He smiled at Rachel, who had a confused look on her face. "He's coming down first thing in the morning," Brett answered her unspoken question.

Rachel frowned. "But that's a seven-hour drive," she protested.

Brett nodded. "I know. But the Senator - your dad - is a pilot. He's going to rent a plane and fly down. He should be here by ten." Brett felt elated; the search had gone better than he'd expected. "I hope you don't mind some publicity, because he wants to introduce you at a press conference."

"A press conference?" Rachel sounded a bit unsure, uneasy about the entire thing.

Brett smiled. "All you have to do is smile. He'll do all the talking."

Rachel glanced at the folder. "This is so unreal. I mean, the senator. I worked on his campaign!" she exclaimed softly. "I've admired him for years; in fact, I decided to get a degree in poly sci because of his example. And now it turns out he's my dad!" Tears started flowing again.

**********

The old beat-up pickup pulled off the highway onto the gravel road. The senator knew this road well; he started to slow as they approached the cluster of buildings. "Better get down, Anya," the old man said without glancing at her.

Anya was already ducking down to hide. "You sure about this?" she asked softly.

Jack laughed. "Never more sure." He veered the truck off the county road into a driveway, then let it coast to a halt near a fence. Ahead, the morning mist obscured all but the outlines on the paved area ahead. "You wait until I get the plane. I'll go back in to distract them while you climb in."

Anya smiled. "You forget." She snapped her finger as a grin crept over her face.

Jack laughed at his mistake. "This magic stuff takes a bit of gettin' used to, missy." He shut off the truck. "Okay, we're here." Jack climbed out of the truck and limped into the metal building carrying a small travel bag. Anya peeked, watching, as a man led the senator out to the airplanes. Jack knew precisely what he was looking for; he picked a Seneca twin. With the other man, Jack did a walkaround inspection of the plane, stopping to check the rudder and elevator. Next came the right wing, with a check to ensure there was no water in the gas, and he opened the engine panel. Anya smiled to herself; despite the appearance of an affable old man, Jack was sharp and thorough. No part of the plane escaped his preflight inspection. The left wing and engine got a check, and then he nodded and said something to the other man. The two trudged back into the metal building.

Anya waited; there was no reason to rush, in case the senator had found fault with this plane. But no, he hadn't. He started to climb into the plane, fighting his game leg. When the door was shut, Anya snapped her fingers ...

... and appeared next to the senator in the plane. "Nice plane you chose," she said as she glanced around. The Seneca was indeed a nice plane for their trip.

Jack laughed. "In a way, I feel bad about what we're going to do to her. Well, it's another thing for the estate to pay off." He ran through the preflight checklist, and then he started the right engine. After checking the gauges and assuring himself that it was running smoothly, he started the left engine, repeating the entire process. He smiled at Anya, then pulled a headset from his bag and slipped the earphones over his ears. "It's going to get a mite loud here," he said apologetically. "And I don't have a spare set of headphones."

In answer, Anya pulled a set of headphones and a CD player from her backpack and put them on. "It's okay - you probably don't want to listen to my music either," she said with a grin.

The senator smiled as he advanced the throttles and let the plane begin rolling toward the runway. Jack clicked his microphone and reported to the tower, as it were. At this small an airport, the tower functions were handled by the fixed-base operator - when they were on duty. At other times, it was the responsibility of the pilot to make sure he or she was clear. Jack turned onto the runway and tapped the brakes, halting the iron bird. As he held down the brakes, he smoothly advanced the throttles, and Anya heard whooshing and hissing as he tested the propeller pitch controls. Satisfied, he adjusted the mixtures and let off the brakes. With increasing speed, the twin-engine airplane cut through the morning mist, the propellers taking bites from the air and pulling the plane further and faster down the runway. The nose gear lifted, and the senator eased forward just a tad on the yoke, holding it down for just a bit longer. Then the plane refused to stay down; it yearned to fly, and Jack eased back slightly and let it leap into the sky. In a smooth flurry of actions, he snapped the switches to retract the landing gear as he adjusted the angle of their climb. A tap on the rudder compensated for the drift of the teeny crosswind, keeping them aligned with the runway as the plane climbed higher and higher.

At seven thousand feet, Jack eased the throttles back, reducing power. The nose slowly dropped, and he fiddled with the trim until the plane was flying level. He smiled at Anya. "You might want to take a nap," he nearly shouted to be heard above the droning engines.

Anya shook her head. "Where'd you learn to fly?" she asked.

Jack cringed a little at her question. It was a fair question, but it was also a sensitive spot. "I flew a C-47 during the war," he answered so softly that Anya barely heard him over the engines. "I wanted to fly Mustangs, but I ended up with transports."

"The war - World War II?" Anya asked, impressed.

Jack nodded. "And next you're going to ask how a pilot ended up taking a leg full of shrapnel, right?" Anya smiled; he'd anticipated her question. "I was towing a glider over Nijmegen, in the Netherlands. Operation Market-Garden, the British attempt to cross the Rhine, you know." He got a wistful look; Anya recognized it as the result of years-old but intense memories surfacing. "I was flying to the 82nd Airborne drop zone, and we got hit. I ended up with the Airborne unit for two days until the British ground troops arrived. That's when I picked up some mortar fragments." He grinned. "The Nazis didn't take too kindly to our being there, you know."

They flew on in silence; Anya had long ago learned that older people usually had interesting tales, but she also recognized that some of those stories, especially the wartime ones, were painful.

Jack broke the spell. "So how do you want to play this?" he asked. Anya frowned, puzzled, and Jack sensed her confusion. "We can get out now, and let it crash in the backwoods, or we can get out over the city and let it fly until it runs out of gas and crashes over open ocean."

Anya narrowed her eyes as she thought. "Open water," she finally voted. "Over land means that someone has a chance of finding the wreck, and that means we'd have to have remains. It also means they'd take a long time to declare you dead instead of just missing." She glanced at the senator. "I don't suppose you packed a spare set of remains in your bag, did you?"

Jack laughed. "I was thinking the same. Open water it is."

Anya thought of something. "Is that going to mess up the timing?"

Jack's shoulders slumped. "Damn," he cursed. "Yes, it is. This thing has more fuel than we need."

Anya started to think of a way out when she saw the senator's eyes light up. "Unless," he said with a smile, "I work the fuel tank switch to, uh, get just the right amount of fuel in one tank."

Anya smiled. "How long?"

The senator pulled out his trusty old analog flight computer and did some fiddling with the numbers. Anya watched with amazement as he worked the device; it seemed to be a piece of plastic, mostly transparent with lots of numbers and writing on it, and about eight or nine inches long and four inches wide. A round metal dial with lots of tiny numbers was slid to one end; it looked like a slide rule wrapped around a compass plotting tool. She'd never seen one; the one pilot Anya knew used an electronic flight computer. But Jack was obviously comfortable with the old style. "I can balance it out to about half an hour after we pass the city. I'll run one tank down until there's half an hour's fuel, then switch to the other. Then we'll switch back to the first tank just before we leave."

It was a while later when Anya felt something shaking her. She pried her eyes open and started; at first, she couldn't place her surroundings, but she quickly remembered where she was.

"Time to go, little lady," Jack said. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs, and then she nodded. She pulled off her earphones and packed away her CD player.

Jack depressed the microphone button. "27 Sierra, Mayday. Mayday." He let his voice fade as he spoke the last word. "Chest...pain...mayday." The words faded off, audible gasps between them, and then he let up the microphone button. He turned and saw Anya staring at him. He smiled. "Heart attack. They'll think I had a heart attack, and then the plane flew on, trimmed and level, until it ran out of gas over the ocean."

Anya got a wry smile. "So even if they declare you missing, they'll assume you died from a heart attack while flying. Pretty good," she said admiringly. "All set?"

Jack patted the controls. "I guess so. Let's go."

Anya nodded, and then made her gestures and incantation. Again, Jack was momentarily disoriented, and snapped to in a dimly lit office.

"Welcome back," grandmother said to him with a smile.

Jack gave her a smile. "Everything's going according to plan," he said. "Now let's get me changed." He rose and started to limp toward the door.

Grandmother grasped his arm. "You can't do it that way," she said in a stern warning. "The park is open. If anyone sees you..." She didn't need to say the rest. All this elaborate deception would be for naught.

Jack glanced at Anya. "Your way, I suppose?" Anya smiled, then took Jack's arm and chanted her teleportation spell.

**********

Ronnie Harris looked worried, Rachel thought to herself. As well she should. Brett was late, and the newsmen were getting restless. The press conference had been set up at one of Ronnie's office buildings, and now it was already a half-hour past the scheduled start time. Ronnie gracefully rose and walked to one of her aides, who left the room at a quick trot; she returned to her chair and sat down, trying to act calm.

The door burst open suddenly, startling everyone in the room. Rachel felt her heart leap as Brett staggered in. He was ashen, and almost totally out of breath. His eyes were nearly glazed over, and he looked terribly distraught.

Ronnie was the first to get to him; Rachel was a close second. "Brett, what's going on? Where's Senator Micheals?"

Brett glanced at Rachel and trembled. "There's been a...problem." he stammered. His voice was strained, and he looked like he was ready to weep.

Ronnie's eyes narrowed. "What kind of problem?"

Brett steeled himself, ignoring the sudden conflux of cameras pointing his way. "A pilot apparently suffered a heart attack and his plane disappeared after it crossed the coast." He couldn't fight back the tears any longer. "They checked the call numbers, and it was the same plane that the senator rented this morning for his flight here." He turned to Rachel, and grasped her tightly. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He's gone."

**********

Ronnie was effective at controlling the ensuing pandemonium. She hustled Brett and Rachel out of the press room, then dispatched her assistants to get current information. A hotline was quickly established to the airport and the local FAA office. As fast as the reports came in, Ronnie vetted them with Brett and got releases approved by the senator's office.

The sun was setting when Ronnie came into the inner office, the most comfortable place in the building for Brett and Rachel. Rachel's adoptive parents were already here, comforting their little girl, and her brother was on the way. She sat down next to the girl. "The press would like a statement, if you can manage it."

Rachel looked up, tears in her eyes. "Yes, I suppose I should say something." She started to rise, but Brett placed his arm on her shoulder.

"Maybe I can help with the statement?" he offered. "I know this is hard for you."

Rachel looked into his eyes and nodded slowly. With Brett's help, she scratched out some words and after a review, handed the paper to Ronnie.

**********

Anya took a sip of her soda, her eyes glued to the television. Her grandmother, as well, was watching, despite her vocal objections to anything broadcast.

Behind the talking head newscaster, a graphic of a Cessna Seneca airplane was being shown, as if a picture of an airplane would help people understand. "We have Jeremy Todd, live at the FAA building at the airport. Jeremy." The talking head vanished, replaced by a night shot of a newscaster, in a light windbreaker, standing in front of what was purported to be the local FAA headquarters. He wore a headset and held a microphone, into which he started speaking. "According to the FAA, Senator Micheals rented the Seneca airplane from Smith Air Services. The Senator was a licensed and accomplished pilot, and he often flew himself between major cities and his cabin. At approximately 6:40 this morning, the Senator filed his flight plan and departed. According to the FAA, nothing was reported out of the ordinary until approximately 10:05 this morning, at which time the tower received a faint distress call, a Mayday call, indicating some type of chest pain. The call lasted only a few seconds, we are told, and did not repeat. There was no further communication with the airplane." He took a quick breath. "After the distress call, the plane followed a straight course out to sea, and at 10:32, radar contact with the airplane was lost. It is presumed to have crashed, although that cannot be confirmed at this time."

Anya snorted her disbelief at the broadcaster's words. Presumed crashed? What other options were there, logically? These people wouldn't know logic if it bit them in the butt.

The newsman continued. "The Coast Guard has dispatched search and rescue helicopters, and we are informed that a ship is en route to begin searching, but as of now, no bodies or debris, indeed, no sign of the aircraft has been found. The search has been..."

The anchor cut him off. "We have a breaking development," he announced, trying to sound professional and in control. "The family is going to make a statement. Linda, to you."

The screen cut again, this time to a well-coiffured lady, her makeup impeccable, standing in a conference room holding her microphone. "This is Linda Jackson, live at the Harris Building. This was to have been the site of a news conference this morning by the Senator; since the tragedy, it has become a site of mourning by the family. In just a few moments, Ms. Harris will be making a statement on behalf of..." She glanced off-camera. "She's ready? Okay." The camera cut her off.

Ronnie Harris stepped in front of the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said in a firm but sad voice, "Miss Rachel Warren has given me a statement to read on the death of her father, the distinguished senior senator of our state." She glanced down and began to read from the paper. "I am touched by the kind words offered by everyone today. This has been especially hard for me. A few days ago, I didn't know my biological parents. Then, magically, I discovered him, Senator Micheals, or rather, he found me. But instead of a joyous celebration, tragedy struck, and the father I never knew was taken from me. More than that, he was taken from all of us. Ironically, it was Senator Micheals who inspired me to go back to college, to pursue a degree that I could use in public service, like he had done. I admired him without knowing that he was my father. I wish that I'd had time to know him more as a person. At this time, I have the loving support of my mom and my dad, the people who adopted me as a baby and raised me as their own. I know that they'll give me the strength to get through this ordeal. Thank you." Ronnie folded up the paper carefully and looked back up at the cameras. There was an awkward pause - it was well-known that she was a friend and supporter of Jack - then she shuffled quietly from in front of the cameras.

The statement wasn't but two seconds old when Linda Jackson cut back onto the screen; it was imperative for her career that she get as much 'face time' with her audience as possible, after all. "This is Linda Jackson, reporting from the Harris Building. We've just heard a statement from the daughter of Senator Micheals. With me now," the camera zoomed out, revealing another person standing beside her, "is Jennifer Newman, friend of the senator and his companion for the past several years. Ms. Newman," the reporter began her question. It was plainly evident that Jennifer was distraught about the death of her friend, and really didn't want to be in front of the camera.

The old woman reached for the remote and shut off the television. "Damned root weevils," she spat. "They gab all day, and without saying a damned thing, either."

**********

Anya was minding the booth when she sensed the presence. She punched the phone. "Vicky, can you take over the booth for me for a few minutes?" Even as Ronnie Harris' limo pulled into the parking lot, Anya ducked out of the booth.

As expected, the limo stopped directly in front of the office. Anya was standing by the office door when it opened and Rachel stepped out. She was dressed in black, having just come from the memorial service. Beside her in the limo was Brett; he looked thoroughly confused by this stop. Rachel glanced inside. "Give me a minute, will you?" The chauffeur shut the door and Anya stepped to give Rachel a hug.

"Let's go inside," Anya said softly. She punched a code into the lock and opened the door. She let Rachel go in first, then followed and closed the door.

"Rachel," grandmother said warmly, rising to give her a quick little hug. "How are things going?"

Rachel smiled and sat down. "Everything is just perfect," she answered. "Exactly according to plan."

Anya slid into a chair. "So the Coast Guard has declared Jack as probably deceased?"

Rachel nodded, a curious twinkle in her eye. "There's still going to be a legal battle over the estate, but yes, he's dead."

Grandmother nodded happily. "So that part's over. How about the other thing?"

Rachel laughed aloud. "With the outpouring of national sympathy over the tragedy, the governor has halted the appointment. Right now, he's banking on sympathy being worth more than a flunky senator appointee he can control." She smiled broadly. "He's right, too."

Anya nodded her agreement. "So, are you going to run?"

Rachel laughed aloud. "Yes, and Brett and Ronnie think it's their idea! They think it's the perfect way to honor my 'father' and to stick it to the 'lowlife weasel' the governor was going to appoint."

Grandmother looked content. "Good for you, dear. But can you win?"

The confidence on Rachel's face never wavered. "It should be easy. There's the sympathy vote. Then there's my opponent's record. I can beat that easily. The estate should give me more than enough funds to run. And finally, there's the tiny matter of the women's vote." She nodded. "Yes, I can win."

"How was the service in Washington?"

Rachel's expression was unreadable. "It was interesting. Jennifer has some very nice things to say." She got a wistful look. "You know, I'm going to miss her. But, as I expected, she's already landed on her feet and is doing well." Her expression changed to one of disgust. "The same scum that backstabbed me were praising me in eulogy. It almost made my stomach turn. And the adopted orphan angle made me an instant celebrity." She stood and started to turn, but she stopped and opened her purse. After fumbling inside for a brief moment, she extracted an envelope and handed it to grandmother. "I almost forgot. Payment for the pass." She turned again. "Well, I've got to run. Brett's waiting in the car." She returned the handshake the old woman gave her.

Anya gave Rachel a warm hug. "You've been spending a lot of time with Brett, haven't you?" she said with a mock accusatory tone. "Are you dating him?"

Rachel blushed beet red. The answer was obvious. "Well," she acknowledged, "I do have to get used to being a woman." Her excuse was pathetically feeble. "And he is a nice man."

Anya grinned. "Well, good luck. And let me know if there's anything I can do."

Rachel smiled, a warm genuine smile. "I sure will. And thank you. For everything." She turned and walked out the door into her new life.

The old woman watched as Rachel left, and Anya sat down, staring at her grandmother with a most curious expression. "Well, what is it, child?" she finally asked.

Anya shook her head. "I thought you hated politicians."

The old woman chuckled. "I do," she said. "I do. But Jack Micheals wasn't a politician; he was a statesman. There's a big difference, you know." She shook her head. "There's so few of them, then ought to go on the endangered species list. Anyway, he's been very good for the country, and I just can't let a man like that just fade away." She tore open the envelope and extracted a check. She glanced at the numbers.

"Payment for her lifetime pass?" Anya asked casually.

The old woman nodded. "Yes. And I think the rest is a bonus for you." She showed Anya the check, and laughed to herself when Anya's jaw dropped as she saw the amount.

**********

Epilogue

Ronnie Harris was about to leave the park when she noticed the old woman stepping out of her office. She called out, and grandmother stopped. "You look like you're in a hurry to go somewhere," Ronnie observed.

The old woman was dressed quite formally. Her dress was cut for evening wear rather than business, and she was wearing her pearls and pearl earrings. Her fingers bore jewelry that hadn't been out of the jewelry box for years, if not decades. Her long hair, usually worn in a loose bun, was arrayed much more formally. "I have an engagement."

Ronnie smiled. "I understand," she said. "I'm leaving early because I need to get downtown." She glanced at her watch. "The polls should be closed in an hour, and I'm expected at Ms. Warren's victory party."

The old woman appeared pleasantly surprised. "Oh really? How interesting. That's where I'm going, too. Would you like a ride?"

The old woman smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you. Anya is going to pick me up."

Ronnie's eyes narrowed slightly. "You...and Anya? How are you involved in this whole thing?" she asked in a half-joking, half-serious tone.

Grandmother flinched visibly. "Me?" she asked, holding her hand over her breast innocently. "What makes you think I had anything to do with any of this?"

Ronnie frowned. "Methinks thou doth protest too much," she laughed finally. "Maybe it's just me being paranoid, but anytime you and Anya are involved, I can't help but wonder." She shook her head, then smiled and turned toward the shower. "I guess I'll see you at the party in a bit."

Grandmother turned to the sound of a horn honking. She eased herself into the passenger seat of Anya's Miata. "You're looking very nice tonight, grandmother," Anya complimented.

The old woman smiled. "As are you, dear child. Oh, I got some news from Rachel. Nobody knows yet, but this is a double celebration tonight. She's going to announce her engagement."

"I'm not in the least bit surprised," Anya said through a smile. "The campaign pulled those her and Brett pretty close." She put the car in gear. "By the way, what did Ronnie want?"

Grandmother laughed. "She thinks I had something to do with this."

Anya gasped from surprise. "And you said..."

"I said that I had nothing at all to do with the whole thing." She stared out the windshield. "Which is the truth." They drove in silence for a few minutes. "By the way, Anya," the old woman finally added, "I may not say this enough, but I'm proud of how well you handled the job with Rachel."

FIN