The Best Laid Plans

In the beginning, both partners, Jim Bailey, an overweight, soft-spoken man in his forties, and Al Tomkins, anorexic and hyper, ten years younger than Bailey, individually tried to talk Leslie into going to bed with them.

She had stopped them very simply. ‘Ask me once more, and I’ll quit.’

That had put an end to that. Leslie was too valuable an employee to lose.

Her first week on the job, during a coffee break, Leslie had told her fellow employees a joke.

‘Three men came across a female genie who promised to grant each one a wish. The first man said, “I wish I were twenty-five percent smarter.” The genie blinked, and the man said, “Hey, I feel smarter already.”

‘The second man said, “I wish I were fifty percent smarter.” The genie blinked, and the man exclaimed, “That’s wonderful! I think I know things now that I didn’t know before.”

‘The third man said, “I’d like to be one hundred percent smarter.”

‘So the genie blinked, and the man changed into a woman.’

Leslie looked expectantly at the men at the table. They were all staring at her, unamused.

Point taken.

The red-letter day that the astrologer had promised began at eleven o’clock that morning. Jim Bailey walked into Leslie’s tiny, cramped office.

‘We have a new client,’ he announced. ‘I want you to take charge.’

She was already handling more accounts than anyone else at the firm, but she knew better than to protest.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s not a what, it’s a who. You’ve heard of Oliver Russell, of course?’

Everyone had heard of Oliver Russell. A local attorney and candidate for governor, he had his face on billboards all over Kentucky. With his brilliant legal record, he was considered, at thirty-five, the most eligible bachelor in the state. He was on all the talk shows on the major television stations in Lexington – WDKY, WTVQ, WKYT – and on the popular local radio stations, WKQQ and WLRO. Strikingly handsome, with black, unruly hair, dark eyes, an athletic build, and a warm smile, he had the reputation of having slept with most of the ladies in Lexington.

‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. What are we going to do for him?’

‘We’re going to try to help turn him into the governor of Kentucky. He’s on his way here now.’

Oliver Russell arrived a few minutes later. He was even more attractive in person than in his photographs.

When he was introduced to Leslie, he smiled warmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m so glad you’re going to handle my campaign.’

He was not at all what Leslie had expected. There was a completely disarming sincerity about the man. For a moment, Leslie was at a loss for words.

‘I – thank you. Please sit down.’

Oliver Russell took a seat.

‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ Leslie suggested. ‘Why are you running for governor?’

‘It’s very simple. Kentucky’s a wonderful state. We know it is, because we live here, and we’re able to enjoy its magic – but much of the country thinks of us as a bunch of hillbillies. I want to change that image. Kentucky has more to offer than a dozen other states combined. The history of this country began here. We have one of the oldest capitol buildings in America. Kentucky gave this country two presidents. It’s the land of Daniel Boone and Kit Carson and Judge Roy Bean. We have the most beautiful scenery in the world – exciting caves, rivers, bluegrass fields – everything. I want to open all that up to the rest of the world.’

He spoke with a deep conviction, and Leslie found herself strongly drawn to him. She thought of the astrology column. ‘The new moon illuminates your love life. Today will he a red-letter day. Be prepared to enjoy it.’

Oliver Russell was saying, ‘The campaign won’t work unless you believe in this as strongly as I do.’

‘I do,’ Leslie said quickly. Too quickly? ‘I’m really looking forward to this.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘May I ask you a question?’

‘Certainly.’

‘What’s your birth sign?’

‘Virgo.’

After Oliver Russell left, Leslie went into Jim Bailey’s office. ‘I like him,’ she said. ‘He’s sincere. He really cares. I think he’d make a fine governor.’

Jim looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It’s not going to be easy.’

She looked at him, puzzled. ‘Oh? Why?’

Bailey shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. There’s something going on that I can’t explain. You’ve seen Russell on all the billboards and on television?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s stopped.’

‘I don’t understand. Why?’

‘No one knows for certain, but there are a lot of strange rumors. One of the rumors is that someone was backing Russell, putting up all the money for his campaign, and then for some reason suddenly dropped him.’

‘In the middle of a campaign he was winning? That doesn’t make sense, Jim.’

‘I know.’

‘Why did he come to us?’

‘He really wants this. I think he’s ambitious. And he feels he can make a difference. He would like us to figure out a campaign that won’t cost him a lot of money. He can’t afford to buy any more airtime or do much advertising. All we can really do for him is to arrange interviews, plant newspaper articles, that sort of thing.’ He shook his head. ‘Governor Addison is spending a fortune on his campaign. In the last two weeks, Russell’s gone way down in the polls. It’s a shame. He’s a good lawyer. Does a lot of pro bono work. I think he’d make a good governor, too.’

That night Leslie made her first note in her new diary.

Dear Diary: This morning I met the man I am going to marry.

Leslie Stewart’s early childhood was idyllic. She was an extraordinarily intelligent child. Her father was an English professor at Lexington Community College and her mother was a housewife. Leslie’s father was a handsome man, patrician and intellectual. He was a caring father, and he saw to it that the family took their vacations together and traveled together. Her father adored her. ‘You’re Daddy’s girl,’ he would say. He would tell her how beautiful she looked and compliment her on her grades, her behavior, her friends. Leslie could do no wrong in his eyes. For her ninth birthday, her father bought her a beautiful brown velvet dress with lace cuffs. He would have her put the dress on, and he would show her off to his friends when they came to dinner. ‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ he would say.

Leslie worshiped him.

One morning, a year later, in a split second, Leslie’s wonderful life vanished. Her mother, face stained with tears, sat her down. ‘Darling, your father has … left us.’

Leslie did not understand at first. ‘When will he be back?’

‘He’s not coming back.’