Eggsecutive Orders

I didn’t order a martini. I opted for coffee instead. Tom looked over the tiny leather-bound menu and asked the waitress for a Sam Adams.

“I thought you were looking forward to trying something new,” I said.

We were seated at a tall table in the dark bar’s front window. He leaned forward on his arms. “So… why are we here, Ollie?”

All day I had been rehearsing options. How I would open, how I would progress, what I might expect Tom to say. How I would answer. But all my preparation went out the nearby window. I turned to watch a couple across the street. Arm in arm, they laughed. Little puffs of air curled in front of them as they turned the corner and strolled away.

Tom touched my arm. “Ollie?”

It didn’t help to look at him. Actually, it made it worse.

“This is hard,” I said.

“What is?”

Was that fear in his eyes, or just the reflection of a passing car’s headlights? I took a breath.

“Ollie, don’t do this.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “I know you’re upset about my comments recently. I know you think I don’t understand you-”

“You don’t.”

He squeezed. “But I do.”

I tugged my hand back. “I want you to tell Craig that he can stop threatening you.”

He leaned back, looking hurt. “I’m not afraid of Craig.”

“I’m afraid of what he can do to you. And to your career.”

Tom waved his hand as though brushing away a fly. “I can handle him.”

“You’re not going to have to.”

The hurt look came back.

My stomach flip-flopped, and my heart raced with panic. My words came out fast, almost as though I was afraid that if I took my time, I wouldn’t have the courage to say them. “I want you to tell Craig that we’ve broken up.” I swallowed. “I want you to tell him we’re not a couple anymore.”

He was shaking his head. “This is all wrong,” he said, staring out the window. “We can’t let Craig-or even this investigation-dictate how we live our lives.” He made eye contact again. “We have to be true to ourselves.”

I nodded. “That’s the other part of it.”

He looked confused.

“I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

He said nothing.

I folded my hands on the table then dropped them to my lap before continuing. “I can’t let this go.”

“You can’t let us go?”

“No,” I said sadly. “I can’t let all these kitchen accusations continue without doing anything. Without defending myself.”

“But, Ollie. You’re not authorized-”

“I know I’m not,” I snapped. “And I never intended to throw myself into the middle of the investigation, but I can’t just stare in from the sidelines, either. Every move I make, I worry: Will this be construed as getting involved? Am I putting Tom’s career at risk? Will Tom get mad at me because I talked with Ruth Minkus? Because I met with Suzie and Steve? Because I studied Minkus’s dossier? It’s making me crazy.”

“Where did you get Minkus’s dossier?”

Now I waved him off.

The coffee grew cold and the beer warm as I told Tom exactly how I had been feeling since he made me promise not to poke my nose into the investigation. “I never intend to get involved in these things. You know that. But I can’t keep second-guessing myself. I can’t keep worrying that I’m stepping out of bounds somehow.” I met his gaze. “I have to be who I am, Tom. I have to be true to myself. And our circumstances are such that I can’t be myself-not really-if you’re part of my life.”

He pursed his lips, not meeting my eyes. Finally, when he did, he said, “That’s it then?”

“Is there anything you want to say? Anything else you want to talk about?”

His expression grew tight. “No. I think you made yourself clear.” With that, he pulled out his wallet, tossed cash on the table, and stood up. “Do you want me to walk you to the Metro station?” he asked with no emotion whatsoever. “It’s late.”

I had expected questions, even hoped for him to argue me out of it. But instead, my now-former boyfriend stood next to the tall table, waiting for me to alight from my chair. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Let me rephrase that. I will walk you to the Metro unless you tell me I can’t.”

“Thank you,” I said. When in doubt, always be polite, my mom advised. A sad thought flashed through my mind. Mom was on a first date-and I was on a last. “I appreciate it.”

We walked in silence the entire way. Tom didn’t accompany me down into the station, and at the top of the stairs, I was prepared for an awkward good-bye. But when I turned to him, he had already started away. “Tom,” I called to his back.

He waved a hand, and half turned in acknowledgment. But he kept walking.

CHAPTER 19

I STARED OUT THE WINDOW OF THE METRO train, seeing nothing. My conversation with Tom replayed itself in my mind, like a wretched scene from a sad movie. I analyzed every movement, every nuance. Not that there was much to decode. Once I’d told him what was on my mind, Tom had made it clear he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Had I done the right thing? Was I inadvertently punishing him for not supporting me? Was I being selfish with my need for the freedom to poke my nose where I wanted to poke it?

My heart seemed to beat more slowly than it ever had, every lub-dub a crushing ache. The relationship might have ended, but that didn’t mean my feelings for Tom had. I still cared deeply for him, and probably always would. I wondered again if I’d made the right decision. But Tom had been asking me to be someone I wasn’t. He wanted a girlfriend who would follow the rules of life that made sense to him, but were anathema to me.

In his life, he was right-just as I was in mine. No fault to be assigned. But no happy ending, either. I looked out into the darkness.

I sighed again. Just because this was the right thing to do didn’t make it easy.

“You’re back,” Nana said when I came through the door. Her face was bright with excitement, but I couldn’t find it in me to smile back.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“She had a wonderful time,” Nana went on, unmindful of my mood. “They only got back about a half hour ago.”

Instinctively I looked at my watch, but the time didn’t register. Still, I knew it was late. “Just a half hour ago?” I asked, still standing in my little foyer. My mind was slow to process her words. “But it’s after midnight.”

Nana gri

“Whatever,” I said. My conversation with Tom was still fresh in my mind, and still stung. I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep away my disappointment. I desperately wanted to be alone.

“Ollie,” Mom said, coming in from the kitchen. She, too, looked at her watch. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

Looking away, I said. “Lots of catch-up work.”

Nana continued to beam at her daughter, but my mom was staring at me. “Is there something wrong?”

Making a face that said, “Nah,” I lied, shaking my head. “Just a long day. That, and the fact that they’ve suspended Bucky.”

They chorused their disapproval and started to ask me questions, but I really couldn’t handle explaining everything right then. Cranky, tired, and feeling as though my hands were tied, I realized it was better to let someone else talk for a while. “How did Kap behave?” I asked.

“Behave?” There was levity in Mom’s voice, but I could sense her displeasure at my choice of words. “Perfectly, of course. We went to a lovely restaurant for di

“You have that chain in Chicago. I’ve seen at least one of them downtown. And in Schaumburg. Probably Oak Brook, too.”

Mom’s smile faltered only slightly. “You may be right, but this was a new experience for me.”

“It’s a decent restaurant,” I said against rising anger I knew I should contain, but couldn’t. “But why not take you somewhere unique to D.C.?”