Deadly Politics
master bath.”
    The thought of all those little jets massaging away stress was almost enough to sell me on the place. However, it was the kitchen that sealed it. Bright and spacious, it had large east-facing windows that allowed the morning sun to spill across the kitchen table. I could picture myself sitting with a cup of coffee, reading the Washington Post .
    But the best thing about the P Street house was that it didn’t remind me of the townhouse where Dave and I lived for six years. The floor plans were entirely different. This house was larger, brighter, with more sunshine. It even had a small patio outside the dining room. Standing on the uneven moss-covered flagstones outside, I had breathed in the unmistakable scent of spring and traced the English ivy climbing the brick walls and chimney. Purple crocuses were already poking their heads from the soil, and daffodils ran riot in an overgrown flowerbed. The neglected garden, the shady little patio, the sunny kitchen, plus the Jacuzzi sealed it. I was hooked.
    â€œThat’s great, Molly. I’m glad you like it. I was hoping you would,” Karen said as the waiter cautiously approached.
    Ordering a muffin and coffee, I noticed that Karen had barely touched her omelet. “I’m glad you didn’t wait for me to order breakfast.” Pointing to her plate, I added, “Don’t you like it?”
    Karen shrugged, then sipped her coffee. “I’m not really hungry.”
    I watched my niece tear her English muffin into pieces instead of eating it. Something was bothering Karen. I figured that was why she’d left two messages on my cell phone last night, asking to have breakfast this morning.
    Peter Brewster’s remark about Karen having a “serious relationship” wiggled from the back of my mind, and I wondered if that was what was bothering her. I decided to roll the dice.
    â€œKaren, you look preoccupied. More so than usual, I mean. Is there something on your mind?”
    Karen’s shoulders relaxed, and a smile worked the corners of her mouth. “You could always tell when something was bothering me, Molly. Even when I was a kid. I’m so glad you’re back. Just sitting with you makes me feel better.”
    â€œWow, I wish I had that effect on everyone,” I said as the waiter set my muffin and coffee before me. “Now that I’m here, why don’t we have breakfast every week. I’ve missed seeing you, too.” I took a large sip of the dark brew.
    â€œI appreciate your meeting me this morning. I know you’re going to Karpinsky’s memorial service later.”
    â€œAlong with most of Washington. I plan to stay in the background if I can.”
    Now that I’d been outed in the D.C. Dirt , I was bound to trip over more people from my past. Lots of government types wound up in Washington. Probably why the traffic was so bad. Old wonks were clogging the roads.
    Karen stared out the window beside us that overlooked the Potomac River and harbor walk area of Georgetown below. Saturday sailors could motor right to the dock, then walk up the steps and into any number of outdoor cafes that lined the riverbank. From our window seat in the cozy café above, the Potomac glinted deep green with reflected sunlight. Another gorgeous spring day.
    â€œYou’ll be at the reception tonight, right?”
    â€œOf course. How could I skip schmoozing with all those Midwesterners?” Karen said, as she returned from wherever she was.
    â€œAre you still planning to come to Nan and Bill’s with me afterwards?”
    â€œAbsolutely. I don’t want to miss Nan’s famous Sunday brunch.”
    Now that she was more relaxed, I decided to probe. “Since you didn’t answer my question the first time, I’ll ask it again. What’s bothering you, Karen? There’s something on your mind. Is it personal or business? You know you can tell me anything.”
    She gave a

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