The City of Mirrors

“That’s why I brought you here. We have a long voyage ahead of us. I need the diesel, but that’s not all. The men who work for me, well, you’ve met them. They’re hard workers, and they’re loyal, but that only goes so far. I need you.”

Her struggle was not over. There was more talking to be done. Nevertheless, Michael saw his words taking hold.

“Even if what you say is true,” Lore said, “what can I possibly do?”

The Bergensfjord: he had given her everything. Now he would give her this.

“I need you to learn how to drive her.”

* * *

35

The funeral was held in the early morning. A simple gravesite service: Meredith had requested that no general announcement of Vicky’s death be made until the following day. Despite her high profile, Vicky had been a guarded person, sharing her private life with just a handful of people. Let it just be us. Peter offered a few words, followed by Sister Peg. The last to speak was Meredith. She appeared composed; she’d had years to prepare. Still, she said, with a hitch in her voice, one was never really ready. She then went on to tell a series of hilarious stories that left them all weeping with laughter. At the end, everyone was saying the same thing. Vicky would have been so pleased.

They adjourned to the house that was now Meredith’s alone. The bed in the parlor was gone. Peter moved among the mourners—government officials, military, a few friends—then, as he was preparing to leave, Chase took him aside.

“Peter, if you have a second, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Here it comes, he thought. The timing made sense; now that Vicky was gone, the man felt that the path had been cleared for him. They stepped into the kitchen. Chase appeared uncharacteristically anxious, fiddling with his beard. “This is a little awkward for me,” he admitted.

“You can stop right there, Ford. It’s okay—I’ve decided not to run again.” It surprised Peter a little, how easily the words had come. He felt a burden lifting. “I’ll give you my full endorsement. You should have no problems.”

Chase looked perplexed, then laughed. “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong. I want to resign.”

Peter was dumbstruck.

“I was waiting until Vicky…well. I knew she’d be disappointed in me.”

“But I thought you always wanted it.”

Chase shrugged. “Oh, there was a time when I did. When she picked you, I was pretty sore, I won’t deny it. But not anymore. We’ve had our differences along the way, but the woman was right, you were the man for the job.”

How could Peter have so badly misjudged? “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, ‘Good luck, Ford.’ ”

He did just that. “What will you do?”

“Olivia and I are thinking Bandera. It’s good cattle land out there. The telegraphs are in, the town’s first on the drawing board for the rail line. I figure fifty years from now, I’ll make my grandkids rich.”

Peter nodded. “It’s a sound plan.”

“You know, if you’re really not running again, I’d be willing to talk about a partnership.”

“You’re serious?”

“It was actually Olivia’s idea. The woman knows me; I’m all about the details. You want to fix the sewers on time, I’m your guy. But a cattle operation takes more than that. It takes nerve, and it takes capital. Just your name on the operation will open a lot of doors.”

“I really don’t know anything about cows, Ford.”

“And I do? We’ll learn. That’s what everybody’s doing these days, isn’t it? We’d be a good team. We have so far.”

Peter had to admit it: the notion was intriguing. Somehow, through the years, he had failed to notice that he and Chase had become, of all things, friends.

“But who’s going to run if you don’t?”

“Does it matter? We’re half a government now. Another ten years, this place will be empty, a relic. People will be making their own ways. My guess is, the next guy to sit in that chair will be the one to turn the lights off. Personally, I’m glad it won’t be you. I’m your adviser, so let this be my last piece of advice: go out strong, get rich, leave a fortune behind. Have a life, Peter. You’ve earned it. The rest will take care of itself.”

Peter couldn’t argue the point. “How soon do you need my answer?”

“I’m not Vicky. Take time to think it over. It’s a big step, I know that.”