Chapter Twenty

Pia picked up line two, expecting to hear Florence’s comical report of her evening out, but instead her ears were surprised by the sound of Valen Bellamy’s voice.

“Good morning. I think it’s time we finished up our discussion, don’t you?”

“I thought we had done that,” Pia replied. “Can you please hold for a moment?”

Pia put him on hold and picked up line one, let the location scout know she’d have to call her back, and counted to five before returning to Valen. She was pleased to hear from him, but only because she’d spent the past three weeks waiting for the call from her boss firing her for jeopardizing the company’s future.

“I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“I was saying that I was very impressed with you and your insights on the topic we were discussing and I wanted to continue the dialogue.”

“I see, though I find it interesting that based on our last meeting a man of your political leanings would find anything I had to say insightful.”

“Well, sometimes the messenger can make the message much more palatable.”

Okay, does he actually have the nerve to be flirting with me?

“Or cause a good message to get lost in a bad delivery.”

“I suppose I deserve that. I apologize for what seemed to be an attack on you and your colleagues. But in all fairness, that was a fact-finding mission. I didn’t have all the components in place, but I do now and I’m willing to fall on my sword, because I really do need you.”

I need you. Pia hadn’t heard those words from a man in a very long time, and they gave her an odd sense of satisfaction.

“I thought you made a great many sensible points, and as my campaign is about to be launched, I’d like to get your take on my ideas. How about it?”

“Wouldn’t you rather your staff do that for you? As you learned at our last meeting, I have a tendency to tell it like I think it is.”

“And that is one of the many things I already like about you. In my business there is an overabundance of yes-men. I don’t need another. Come on, Pia, political parties aside, we both want to help our people, so please join me for breakfast tomorrow at eight.”

A hundred different excuses for why she couldn’t meet with him ran through her head, each batted away and discarded by the fact that her boss would be very unhappy if she said no.

“Well, Mr. Bellamy, when you campaign that effectively, how can I say no?”

“I’m not sure what I said to enlist your change of heart, but obviously it’s something to figure out and remember when I’m stumping. I’ll have my secretary call you with the address, and I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you at eight.”

“Pia?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Bellamy is my dad. Please call me Valen.”

Pia stood midblock on East Fifty-first Street, next to the Sutton Synagogue. She was confused. Valen’s instructions, relayed through Dee, were to meet him at Greenacre for breakfast, but instead of a restaurant she walked into a pocket-size emerald green sanctuary. With each step forward, Pia’s smile widened. Immediately she was drawn to the park’s focal point—a huge waterfall cascading down the granite back wall. The falling water created a soothing barrier to the city sounds, eliciting a sense of solitude and privacy.

She stood mesmerized under a grove of honey locust trees, their fragile leaves forming a protective sunscreen and projecting lacy shadows across the stones underfoot. Hedges of fuchsia rhododendrons and white azaleas, supplemented by gorgeous blue and purple hydrangeas in big pots scattered around the park, provided bursts of color. The upper and main tiers were empty but for two singles, one reading the newspaper, the other meditating, both enjoying themselves in this awe-inspiring city oasis.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Valen asked, walking up beside her. “This is my favorite spot in the entire city. If you close your eyes, smell the flowers, and listen to the waterfall, you can almost believe that you’re in some tropical paradise.”

“You really do believe in serving the public, don’t you?” Pia asked, begrudgingly impressed by Valen’s sensual nature.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that only a man dedicated to the public good would be willing to share something so beautiful. I’ve lived in Manhattan for years and never knew about this place. And now that I do, I’m not telling a soul. I’m keeping this amazing secret to myself.”

“And you call yourself a Democrat,” he teased. “Come, let’s sit. I promised you breakfast, and as I aim to do with all my campaign pledges, I shall deliver.” Valen led her past the small concession stand and toward the back of the park, then down a short flight of roped-off stairs. There behind the hedges and next to the waterfall was a table—the only one in the small park set with white linen, china, and silverware. At each place setting was a glossy white box tied with a red and white gingham bow.

Pia was stunned. This looked like a setup for a romantic date, not a business meal. Pia was savvy and experienced enough to know that any man who went the extra mile like this did so not because he was interested in a woman’s ideas but simply because he was interested in the woman.

“You did this for me?” Pia asked as Valen helped her into the chair.

“You know how we politicians are—anything to get a vote. But in all truth, I do some of my best thinking here, and yes, I did want to share this with you. Mimosa?”

“Uh, no, thank you.” Pia was confused and oddly touched that he’d wanted to share his favorite place with her. Where was the man she’d spent the afternoon sparring with not so long ago?

“You don’t drink?”

“Not much lately. Watching my waistline,” she offered. It was the truth, though for reasons other than Valen suspected.

The way he pursed his lips, it was clear to Pia that he had just swallowed a flirtatious comment. And though she was curious, it was probably for the best that she not know what he was thinking. If his thoughts were running parallel to hers, the idea of sharing a romantic breakfast in this beautiful setting should be sending the same uneasy chill down his spine that was currently zipping down hers.

Pia quickly tried to assess her feelings. It wasn’t fear that was confusing her; it was something much more dangerous—the delicious agitation caused by the potent mixture of intellectual interest and overwhelming physical attraction to the wrong man.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Pia said, commanding her brain to focus. “I was pretty rude walking away from your meeting like that.”

“Apology accepted. And I offer the same. Sometimes passion can get the best of you,” Valen said in a voice equal parts sincerity and innuendo. So equal, Pia wasn’t sure whether he was once again flirting.

“So that’s why you…well, you smirked at me.”

“Smirked?”

“Yes. Smirked. Every time I said something you got his look…a smirk…on your face, as if what I was saying was so totally off-base that it was…cute or something.”

Valen’s face broke out into a crooked smile.

“That’s it! That’s the smirk!” Pia declared.

“I don’t know what my face is showing, but my mind is and was thinking, This is really a bright and interesting woman. So any smirking was strictly complimentary.”

Okay, he’s flirting, Pia thought through her grin.

“May I ask you a question?” she said, choosing to reside on the side of mystery and ignore his comment altogether. “Why politics?”

“I think it was my mother’s influence above all else. Whether the Boy Scouts or PTA or Jack and Jill, she was always involved in some sort of leadership position. She said by leading she was sure to make a difference.”

“So what kind of difference do you want to make?”

“I want to give our people options beyond political parties—real options. We need to teach our folk that choice goes beyond someone holding out their hands and saying, ‘Pick one.’ And Easter Elizabeth Bellamy was all about creating options.”

“Easter?”

“She was born on Easter Sunday and my grandmother thought it was the perfect name. My mother decided to continue the holiday tradition with me.”

“So Valen is short for Valentine?” Pia asked, drawn again to the gray eyes behind his glasses.

“Yes. My birthday is February fourteenth.”

“Well, it could be worse—she could have named you Cupid. So you don’t have any other siblings named Christmas or Cinco de Mayo, do you?” Pia asked, smiling broadly.

“No. I do have one sister named Tina. She was unfortunately born on a regular old Tuesday.”

“And your son?”

“Well, he in fact was born on Arbor Day. So in keeping with family tradition, he’s named Spruce Sapling Bellamy.”

Valen’s delivery was so deadpan, Pia didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t until he burst out in warm laughter that she realized he was joking.

“His name is Robert. Maybe we should eat before this gets cold,” Valen suggested, with a chuckle.

“This is all very thoughtful,” Pia commented as she untied the gingham ribbon and opened her box to find a gourmet breakfast of a shrimp and crab burrito and fresh fruit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

“Not at all. It’s wonderful…” A briny whiff of seafood hit Pia’s pregnant nose with a vengeance. She quickly closed the box, hoping to stop the smell and the swell of nausea creeping up on her.

“You don’t like shrimp?”

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” Pia fibbed, hating to lie but feeling she had no other option. It was rare enough that a man made this kind of effort, and she hated to crush his enthusiasm. “But it looks lovely, and I do so appreciate your thought.”

“Thoughts are nice, but they won’t feed you,” Valen said, obviously disheartened. “Looks like I’ve got two strikes already—you don’t drink and you don’t eat shellfish. My batting average is looking pretty dismal this morning.”

“Do you think the concession stand over there serves tea and maybe an English muffin?” she asked, trying to salvage his ego and her stomach.

“I’ll go check.”

Pia closed her eyes until the wave of discomfort passed. Then she concentrated on the park sounds, merging her thoughts with the rumble of falling water.

She was impressed that Valen hadn’t done the typical restaurant thing. She liked that he had instead exercised his creativity and sensual side when picking out this tiny paradise to share with her. His attention to detail said a lot about him, and it was telling Pia that she definitely needed to know him better.

Valen Bellamy was smart, attractive, sexy, creative, attentive, and caring. Did it get any better? She had definitely misjudged him following their first meeting. After this morning’s conversation, it was clear that despite the differences in their political leanings, at the core they both cared about their people, their country, and their world—so why was he unattached and a Republican?

Stop. Not an option. He’s a conservative man running for office and you’re a liberal single woman having a familiar stranger’s baby. You’re oil and water. Chocolate and beetles. Santa Claus and Chanukah. Two entities that do not mix.

Valen returned with her requested order. Once they’d eaten a few bites in companionable silence, Pia felt the need to learn more about his personal side.

“So, are you excited about becoming a grandfather? This is your first, right?”

“Yes, Robbie is my only child and he and his wife are expecting in late November.”

Me too, Pia informed him through her eyes.

“Your wife must be really excited,” despite his open flirtation, Pia had to know.

“Ex-wife. I’ve been divorced for twelve years.”

“And never remarried?”

“No. I ended a long-term relationship with a lovely woman about three years ago. We were good together, but marriage wasn’t in our cards. She wasn’t interested in my political ambitions. Didn’t want to be caught up in the scrutiny of politics. I came to learn later that she probably did me a favor.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you say that?”

“Let’s just say that there were things in her past that didn’t mesh well with a public life. And I know that sounds harsh, but unfortunately, in the current political climate it’s one of the things a politician has to think about.”

Valen’s answer sent a blast of discomfort through her.

“What about you? Ever been married?”

“No. Guess I’ve been too busy with my own career aspirations. My kind of job—irregular hours, lots of traveling—doesn’t lend itself to the traditional lifestyle.”

“I know that feeling well. No desire to ever have a husband or kids?”

“Never say never, right?” Pia said, deciding to dodge that hot topic and redirect their discussion. “So, Valen. You’ve explained your passion for politics, but why—”

“Am I a Republican?”

“Well, yes.”

“Because it’s political suicide for all of us to be in one party. For all the decades of support that black folks have thrown blindly at Democrats, what have they gotten in return? We still rank at the bottom of everything, from education to employment to life expectancy,” Valen stated in a voice that let her know he’d been down this line of questioning many times before.

“But what about GOP politics do you find attractive?”

“Fighting terror, strong family values, empowering the individual. It’s more important to teach a man to fish rather than give it to him on a plate in some soup kitchen.”

“But it seems that under the banner of ‘individual empowerment’ your party seems content to make political decisions based on what’s good for the one and not the many. They forget about the rest of our folks languishing at the bottom or struggling in the middle,” Pia said, her indignation rising.

“Pia, just because I am a black Republican doesn’t mean I stopped caring about black people. If things are going to change, sometimes the fight has to come from the inside as well. My goal is to engage our people in such a way that everyone benefits. Hopefully I’ll be one more nonpartisan voice trying to do the right thing.”

“But…”

“Why don’t we agree to disagree and leave politics alone for a minute? Is that okay?” Valen could feel the conversation about to explode into a repeat of their last meeting, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen today. He needed to change the topic and change it fast.

“Okay,” Pia agreed. It was much too beautiful a day to spend it arguing over political ideologies. “But you did want to talk about your program.”

“And we will, but first, do you mind if I ask you a couple of personal questions?”

“Okay,” Pia said, hearing the hesitation in her voice.

“Who’s your favorite singer?”

“Sade.”

“Good choice. Very sexy and elegant.” Like you, he wanted to tell her, but he kept that to himself.

“What is this?”

“Just a quick way of knowing you better.”

“Okay. Yours?”

“I’d have to say Stevie Wonder.”

“Have to? As if you could go wrong with Stevie Wonder. The man is a musical genius. There is no better album than…”

“Songs in the Key of Life,” they said in unison.

“What’s your favorite cut on the album?” Pia asked.

“‘Knocks Me Off My Feet’ and ‘As,’ but I like them all.”

“I can’t disagree.”

“Okay, we both have great taste in music. Now, this is important. What makes you smile?”

“Um, lots of things, but I guess I’d say natural beauty—both inner and outer. That and a seventy-five percent off sign in the Jimmy Choo store window. What makes you smile?” Pia asked, suddenly very curious.

“Blue, blue ocean water.”

“Any ocean in particular?” Pia asked.

“The Indian Ocean. I am very partial to the waters off the Maldives. There’s a resort there called the Reethi Rah where every view is just breathtaking.”

“Hmm,” Pia murmured, imagining herself there. “Where are you getting these questions?”

“Do you know how many interviews I’ve given over the years? I’ve been asked everything from my positions on Iraq and Iran to ‘Boxers or briefs?’”

“So?” Pia asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“So, what?”

“Boxers or briefs?”

“Sorry. That’s classified information,” he joked back.

“I have a question,” Pia declared. “What surprises you?”

“Unfortunately, not much surprises me these days. How about you?”

“The way my clothes shrink just hanging in my closet.”

“Funny, girl. Anything else?”

“I guess how fate works,” Pia said, thinking about the way her life was unfolding.

“Here’s a question a reporter asked me last week. Answer with just one word. A man is powerful when he…?”

Pia took a moment to think before replying. “Listens, though—no offense to your gender—it’s tough to find a man who really listens. He may hear you, but it seems that rarely does he listen.”

“Listens would be my answer too.”

Without thought or provocation, Pia playfully reached over and punched Valen in his upper arm. It was an involuntary reaction, stored muscle memory from junior high, where every girl slugged her crush. “Get your own answer. You’re just saying that because I did,” she accused him, her entire body suddenly in automatic flirt mode.

“No, really. We just happen to once again agree. Think of it as a happy bipartisan moment. Okay, when is a woman powerful?”

“That’s a tough one,” Pia said, taking time to think. “I’d have to say when she’s natural and doesn’t try too hard. When do you think a woman is most powerful?”

“When she loves,” Valen said, briefly looking into her eyes before dropping his.

There was no doubt that something was happening between them. Despite his untenable political leanings, Pia was beginning to like this man, and the idea was making her extremely uncomfortable. He was a refreshing change from the usual characters she knew. And he was giving every indication that he liked her back. Suddenly the comfortable, playful feeling she’d had earlier was gone, replaced by the need to vacate this beautiful place and the company of this far too interesting and handsome man. Attracted as she might be, Pia saw no reason to explore a potential coupling that had DOOMED stamped across its welcome mat.

“So let me get this straight,” Dee said, dropping a folder full of information on Valen’s campaign that they’d never gotten around to discussing. It landed on Pia’s desk with a thud that seemed to accentuate the mood of their conversation.

“You were having a great time, best date you’ve had in years, and you decided you simply needed to bolt.”

“Yep,” Pia said, pretending to be too preoccupied with work to have this conversation. She hoped in vain that Darlene would get the hint and skedaddle.

“Plus you think he’s an all-around great guy and a major catch.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he gave you the distinct impression that he’d love to get to know you a lot better, like up close and real personal, but you want me to screen all his calls. No phone, no e-mails, no communication of any kind.”

“Yep.”

“Chica, I do not get you. You ace the workshop, finally start acting like a girl again, get asked on a second date—and by some rich, successful guy, mind you—but you have no interest in him. Just tell me one more time—why?”

“It’s not so difficult to understand, Darlene. I accomplished my goal, which was to get pregnant, but that’s it. I’m not interested in hooking up with anyone, at least not now. And particularly not with a man who is running for the U.S. Senate on a Republican platform that touts a bunch of conservative viewpoints including strong ‘family values.’”

“So that’s it. You just give up?”

“Yep. Better to quit now while I can.”