Oliver enjoyed living in Frankfort. It was a lovely, historic city nestled in a scenic river valley among the rolling hills of Kentucky’s fabled bluegrass region. He wondered what it would be like to live in Washington, D.C.
The busy days merged into weeks, and the weeks merged into months. Oliver began the last year of his term.
Oliver had made Peter Tager his press secretary. He was the perfect choice. Tager was always forth-right with the press, and because of the decent, old-fashioned values he stood for and liked to talk about, he gave the party substance and dignity. Peter Tager and his black eye patch became almost as well recognized as Oliver.
Todd Davis made it a point to fly down to Frankfort to see Oliver at least once a month.
He said to Peter Tager, “When you’ve got a Thoroughbred running, you have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t lose his timing.”
On a chilly evening in October, Oliver and Senator Davis were seated in Oliver’s study. The two men and Jan had gone out to dinner at Gabriel’s and had returned to the Executive Mansion. Jan had left the men to talk.
“Jan seems very happy, Oliver. I’m pleased.”
“I try to make her happy, Todd.”
Senator Davis looked at Oliver and wondered how often he used the apartment. “She loves you a lot, son.”
“And I love her.” Oliver sounded very sincere.
Senator Davis smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. She’s already redecorating the White House.”
Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s begun. Your name’s becoming a byword in Washington. We’re going to begin our campaign the first of the year.”
Oliver was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Do you honestly think I have a chance, Todd?”
“The word ‘chance’ implies a gamble, and I don’t gamble, son. I won’t get involved in anything unless I know it’s a sure thing.”
Oliver took a deep breath. “You can be the most important man in the world.” “I want you to know how very much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Todd.”
Todd patted Oliver’s arm. “It’s a man’s duty to help his son-in-law, isn’t it?”
The emphasis on “son-in-law” was not lost on Oliver.
The senator said casually, “By the way, Oliver, I was very disappointed that your legislature passed that tobacco tax bill.”
“That money will take care of the shortfall in our fiscal budget, and—”
“But of course you’re going to veto it.”
Oliver stared at him. “Veto it?”
The senator gave him a small smile. “Oliver, I want you to know that I’m not thinking about myself. But I have a lot of friends who invested their hard-earned money in tobacco plantations, and I wouldn’t want to see them get hurt by oppressive new taxes, would you?”
There was a silence.
“Would you, Oliver?”
“No,” Oliver finally said. “I guess it wouldn’t be fair.”
“I appreciate that. I really do.”
Oliver said, “I had heard that you’d sold your tobacco plantations, Todd.”
Todd Davis looked at him, surprised. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Well, the tobacco companies are taking a beating in the courts. Sales are way down, and—”
“You’re talking about the United States, son. There’s a great big world out there. Wait until our advertising campaigns start rolling in China and Africa and India.” He looked at his watch and rose. “I have to head back to Washington. I have a committee meeting.”
“Have a good flight.”
Senator Davis smiled. “Now I will, son. Now I will.”
Oliver was upset. “What the hell am I going to do, Peter? The tobacco tax is by far the most popular measure the legislature has passed this year. What excuse do I have for vetoing it?”
Peter Tager took several sheets of paper from his pocket. “All the answers are right here, Oliver. I’ve discussed it with the senator. You won’t have any problem. I’ve set up a press conference for four o’clock.”
Oliver studied the papers. Finally, he nodded. “This is good.”
“It’s what I do. Is there anything else you need me for?”