Senate Cloakroom Cabal Read Online Free Page B

point guard and a dead-on three-point shooter. Tell him for me, I wish him the best,” Pembroke said.

    Senator Roanne McAllister Dalton waited on the subway platform for the Senate train to arrive from the Hart Building. Dalton’s offices were in Dirksen, the middle of the three Senate office buildings, with Russell being the third and oldest. She had initially come to the Senate by appointment, filling out the last ten months of her deceased husband’s second term—her father’s idea.
    Rufus McAllister, a former two-term governor, was very much the power behind the throne in their state. Dalton had been against taking the appointment. In fact, after H.T.’s death, she hadn’t even wanted to return to Washington to close up their condo.
    â€œIt will be a boon to your career. It’s a piece of cake,” her father had told her.
    She’d ultimately given in. Being a former beauty queen and the wife of a two-term senator, she’d been instantly added to Washington hostesses’ must-invite list. Heretofore, those invitations had read Senator H.T. Dalton and wife. Three months after taking H.T.’s seat, the once-reluctant PhD and associate professor of history had experienced a change of heart. She’d announced her candidacy to stand for election on her own right.
    An amazed Rufus McAllister had been elated.
    The subway’s arrival interrupted her thoughts. She saw Senators Crawford and Pembroke in the front car, but chose to sit in the back. She wanted to talk with Crawford, but wanted more to avoid Pembroke. Once the subway reached the Capitol, she debarked and walked leisurely up the wide, marble stairs to the Senate chamber.

    Senator Pembroke hurried away as Senator Crawford cut through the President’s Room adjacent to the chamber. He liked the high-ceiling room with its frescoes and arabesques overhead and around the walls. Diarist Mary Clemmer Ames had written about them: “There is not one quiet hue on which the tired sight may rest.” He wished he had time to sketch one of Brumidi’s pug-nosed cupids, but when? Oh well, he sighed and entered the Senate chamber.
    He chose to avoid the Cloakroom. Each of the two major political parties had one—the Cloakroom was an inner sanctum free of outsiders. It was the place senators could drop their public faces, where arm-twisting was an Olympic event and compromise the liniment of disagreements. When Lyndon Johnson was majority leader, he was known to lounge on a chaise in there and give audience to the pleadings of his lowly flock.

    Crawford hoped the vote would come up quickly. He’d vote yea and head back to the office. He wanted to be home in time for the twins’ swim practice.
    â€œSenator Crawford,” a female page said, approaching him at his desk. “Senator Kelly would like to see you in the Cloakroom after he votes.”
    He smiled. “Thank you, Maci.” He wondered what Kelly wanted and hoped it wouldn’t take long. He began to sit, but saw Senator Dalton approaching.
    â€œGavin,” she half whispered, “have a minute?”
    â€œSenator Dalton,” he said formally.
    â€œYou must be feeling pretty good about this education bill.”
    â€œVery. The big job now will be to get the administration to pressure all the states to get on board with it.”
    â€œI’m sure they will. They don’t want free money withheld from them.”
    â€œTrue,” he said. “That was a major point of contention in committee, to get that added. Now, it could well become the enforcer that gets it fully implemented.”
    She smiled, lighting up her pretty face. Mariel was good-looking and all, but Roanne Dalton was beautiful. “So how are things?” he asked.
    â€œI’ve wanted to talk to you, get your advice. I’m concerned about the leader wanting unanimous support of the FDA’s imminent disapproval of the cancer