phone.
“Michael!” the sound of his mother’s voice on the line surprised him.
“Mom? What -- where did you get this number?” She was calling on his Agency-issued phone. No one had this number. Except for Clark.
“A very nice young man at your office gave it to me. Chuck someone,” she said.
Great. FBI agents were trained to resist giving out information to even the most brutal enemies, and Clark gives him up to a 72 year old woman. Thanks buddy.
“I’ve left you a million messages, but you never call me back,” she continued.
“Mom, I’m on assignment,” he put down the yearbook and picked up a wrinkled bag of Pirate Booty.
“I wanted to check with you to see if you’re going to be able to make it home for the Perkins’ wedding next month. Sally said you never responded, and I know you’d love to see everyone. I hear that Jenny Rovner is going to be there and that she just got a divorce. I ran into her at the club last week and she looked fantastic.”
His mother was determined to get him married off if it was the last thing she did.
He answered with a mouth full of Booty. “Mom, I don’t think so. I’m involved in something fairly open-ended, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it. Can you tell them no for me?”
“Why don’t I just let Sally know that you’re a maybe?”
“Mom --”
“Michael, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you. How’s Washington?”
“Mom, I live in New York. Besides, I’m in Chicago right now.”
“Ooh, are you working for the President now?” His mother also was convinced that if she had to have a son who worked for the FBI, that he was a top-ranking official with full access to anyone and everyone. Mike didn’t want to fight it.
“Yup - I’m in front of his Hyde Park house right now,” he said. “And you never know when he’ll be back in town. I should really go.”
“Okay honey, take care of yourself. And please say hello to that nice Chuck back at your office.”
CHAPTER 8
“Vicky!” Barbara yelled at Victoria, who was engrossed in a rerun of The Brady Bunch.
“Mother, quiet! This is the one where Marcia breaks her nose!” she said.
Barbara walked across the room and turned off the television. Victoria let out a small cry. “Vicky, I need you to run an errand for me.”
“Can’t Bud do it?” Victoria whined.
“No, Bud can’t. I need you to do it. Can you go to the pharmacy and pick up my prescription?” Barbara asked.
“My God, mother! Don’t they deliver?” It seemed a reasonable question.
Barbara was not to be put off. She had been trying to get Victoria out of the house for a week now, with no luck. She was really getting worried about her daughter, who had taken up permanent residence in front of the both the television and refrigerator.
“They’ve stopped for the day. Bud has a migraine,” Barbara said.
“Why can’t you go?” Victoria couldn’t believe how horrible she sounded, but she really didn’t want to go out. Especially looking like she did. She was wearing a pair of leggings and Bud’s “Kiss Me I’m Irish” sweatshirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, she had no makeup on and she
“Michael!” the sound of his mother’s voice on the line surprised him.
“Mom? What -- where did you get this number?” She was calling on his Agency-issued phone. No one had this number. Except for Clark.
“A very nice young man at your office gave it to me. Chuck someone,” she said.
Great. FBI agents were trained to resist giving out information to even the most brutal enemies, and Clark gives him up to a 72 year old woman. Thanks buddy.
“I’ve left you a million messages, but you never call me back,” she continued.
“Mom, I’m on assignment,” he put down the yearbook and picked up a wrinkled bag of Pirate Booty.
“I wanted to check with you to see if you’re going to be able to make it home for the Perkins’ wedding next month. Sally said you never responded, and I know you’d love to see everyone. I hear that Jenny Rovner is going to be there and that she just got a divorce. I ran into her at the club last week and she looked fantastic.”
His mother was determined to get him married off if it was the last thing she did.
He answered with a mouth full of Booty. “Mom, I don’t think so. I’m involved in something fairly open-ended, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it. Can you tell them no for me?”
“Why don’t I just let Sally know that you’re a maybe?”
“Mom --”
“Michael, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you. How’s Washington?”
“Mom, I live in New York. Besides, I’m in Chicago right now.”
“Ooh, are you working for the President now?” His mother also was convinced that if she had to have a son who worked for the FBI, that he was a top-ranking official with full access to anyone and everyone. Mike didn’t want to fight it.
“Yup - I’m in front of his Hyde Park house right now,” he said. “And you never know when he’ll be back in town. I should really go.”
“Okay honey, take care of yourself. And please say hello to that nice Chuck back at your office.”
CHAPTER 8
“Vicky!” Barbara yelled at Victoria, who was engrossed in a rerun of The Brady Bunch.
“Mother, quiet! This is the one where Marcia breaks her nose!” she said.
Barbara walked across the room and turned off the television. Victoria let out a small cry. “Vicky, I need you to run an errand for me.”
“Can’t Bud do it?” Victoria whined.
“No, Bud can’t. I need you to do it. Can you go to the pharmacy and pick up my prescription?” Barbara asked.
“My God, mother! Don’t they deliver?” It seemed a reasonable question.
Barbara was not to be put off. She had been trying to get Victoria out of the house for a week now, with no luck. She was really getting worried about her daughter, who had taken up permanent residence in front of the both the television and refrigerator.
“They’ve stopped for the day. Bud has a migraine,” Barbara said.
“Why can’t you go?” Victoria couldn’t believe how horrible she sounded, but she really didn’t want to go out. Especially looking like she did. She was wearing a pair of leggings and Bud’s “Kiss Me I’m Irish” sweatshirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, she had no makeup on and she
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