“I’m counting on you. Very heavily. Romania is the testing ground. Since Groza was assassinated, your job is going to be more difficult. If we can pull it off there, we can make it work in the other Communist countries.”
They spent the next thirty minutes discussing some of the problems that lay ahead, and then Paul Ellison said, “Stan Rogers will keep in close touch with you. He’s become a big fan of yours.” He held out his hand. “Good luck, doppelgänger.”
The next afternoon Stanton Rogers telephoned Mary. “You have an appointment at nine o’clock tomorrow morning with the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.”
The Committee on Foreign Relations has offices in the Dirksen Building. A plaque in the hallway at the right side of the door reads: COMMITTEE ON FOREIGN RELATIONS SD-419.
The chairman was a rotund, gray-haired man with sharp green eyes and the easy manner of a professional politician.
He greeted Mary at the door. “Charlie Campbell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ashley. I’ve certainly been hearing a lot about you.”
Good or bad? Mary wondered.
He led her to a chair. “Some coffee?”
“No, thank you, Senator.” She was too nervous to hold a cup in her hand.
“Well, then, let’s get right down to business. The President is eager to have you represent us in Romania. Naturally, we all want to give him our full support in every way possible. The question is—do you think you’re qualified to handle that position, Mrs. Ashley?”
“No, sir.”
Her answer caught him off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you mean have I had any diplomatic experience in dealing with foreign countries, then I’m not qualified. However, I’ve been told that one third of the country’s ambassadors are also people without previous experience. What I would bring to my job is a knowledge of Romania. I’m familiar with its economic and sociological problems and with its political background. I believe I could project a positive image of our country to the Romanians.”
Well, Charlie Campbell thought in surprise. I expected a bubblehead. In fact, Campbell had resented Mary Ashley even before meeting her. He had been given orders from the top to see that Mary Ashley got his committee’s approval no matter what they thought of her. A lot of snickering was going on in the corridors of power about what a gaffe the President had made by selecting an unknown hayseed from a place called Junction City, Kansas. But, by God, Campbell thought, I think the boys may be in for a little surprise.
Aloud, he said, “The full Hearing Committee meets at nine o’clock Wednesday morning.”
The night before the hearing, Mary was in a panic. Darling, when they question me about my experience, what am I going to tell them? That in Junction City I was homecoming queen, and that I won the ice-skating contest three years in a row? I’m panicky. Oh, how I wish you were here with me.
But once again the irony struck her. If Edward were alive, she would not be here. I’d be safe and warm at home with my husband and children, where I belong.
She lay awake all night.
The hearing was held in the Senate Foreign Relations Committee room, with the full fifteen members of the committee present, seated at a dais in front of a wall that held four large world maps. Along the left side of the room was the press table, filled with reporters, and in the center, seats for two hundred spectators. The corners were brightly lighted for television cameras. The room was filled to overflowing. Pete Connors sat in a back row. There was a sudden hush as Mary entered with Beth and Tim.
Mary was wearing a dark tailored suit and a white blouse. The children had been forced out of their jeans and sweaters and were in their Sunday best.
Ben Cohn, seated at the press table, watched as they came in. Jesus, he thought, they look like a Norman Rockwell cover.
An attendant seated the children in a front row, and Mary was escorted to the witness chair facing the committee. She sat under the glare of the hot lights, trying to conceal her nervousness.