“Does the Senator like his daughter?” Neal asked.

“Not particularly.”

This came from Kitteredge, who continued: “Nevertheless, he wants her back. By August.”

He wants her back. Not right away, not tomorrow morning, but by August. Let me see, what happens in August? It gets hot and muggy, the Yankee pitching falls apart… oh, yeah. The Democrats have a convention.

“I trust you will not be offended, Mr. Carey, when I say that sometimes a… situation… arises that requires a blend of the… common

… and the sophisticated. When someone is needed whose education has occurred as much… in the street… as well as in the classroom. This is just such a case. You are just such a person.”

Except I don’t want to do it. God, how much I don’t want to do it. Not after the Halperin kid. Please, no more teenage runaways. Never again after the Halperin kid.

Levine frowned as he said, “You’re going to go to London, find Alison Chase, and bring her back in time for the Democratic convention.”

No I’m not.

“What happens if Chase doesn’t get nominated, Ed? You want me to throw the kid back?”

“Your fine sense of moral indignation will not be required, Mr. Carey.”

“I’m not the man for this job, Mr. Kitteredge.”

“The Halperin… tragedy… was an aberration, Mr. Carey. It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, son.”

“Then why have I been on the shelf since it happened?”

Kitteredge’s hand traced the sleek bow of Haridan. “The… hiatus… was for your benefit, not Friends’,”

Well, then, it worked. After the drinking, and the insomnia, and the nightmares had gone on for a while, I found Diane. And school again. And now I don’t want to come back.

“For once, I agree with Carey, Mr. Kitteredge,” said Ed. “He’s wrong for this one.”