Читать книгу The Last Daughter - Thomas Mahon - Страница 6

Caitlin chewed her bottom lip and read the message.

Apparently From: Adams, Wendy <WenAdams12@Eastl.edu>

Sent: Sunday 8:24 PM

To: Caitlin Prescott

Subject: hey

- Hey. Watching cspan now. Are you ready?

“Is that Wendy?” asked her mother.

Caitlin nodded. “She’s watching C-Span. I’m surprised she was able to find the channel.”

Wendy Adams and Caitlin had been best friends since pre-school. Needless to say, the girls did everything together, and that included scouts, soccer, Indian Princess, choir and family vacations. Their mothers were inseparable. Dee Adams and Julie Prescott were practically sisters, as well as fierce shopping buddies. On the afternoon the Prescott’s left for Washington just days before Jack’s inauguration, there were enough tears shed between the two girls and their mothers to top off Lake Okeechobee and ease water restrictions in the State of Florida. Jack Prescott, sitting patiently in the limo that would whisk them to the airport and their new life, could only watch as the four hugged and slobbered over one another. The women made him promise that Caitlin would visit Florida every couple of months. She’d either stay with her brother, Joel, and his wife at the Prescott estate just south of Orlando, or bunk with Wendy in the Eastland dorms. It would be Caitlin’s choice. Jack Prescott shrugged. He may have been the future commander-in-chief, but he knew better than to stand in the way of four women and their plans. That was one battle he would never attempt to fight.

Julie Prescott checked her watch. “I left a message with Dee about tonight’s press conference. I’m sure she’s watching. Incidentally, I told her about your trip to Florida next week. I’ve got to finalize things with the Secret Service, so I’m assuming you’ll be staying in the Eastland dorms again?”

“I’d like to, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine by me. You’ve bunked there enough over the past few years. Your brother might be disappointed you’re not staying with him, but I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Caitlin returned to Wendy’s email, tapping back a response on the iPhone.

-no i’m not ready for my cspan debut. you know how I hate these things.

“Did you tell Wendy you’re excited about tonight?” the first lady asked, leaning in for a look.

Caitlin buried the phone in her lap. “I sure did.”

A response from Wendy chimed back a few seconds later.

-No worries. Seduce us with your awesome legs.

Caitlin frowned. Okay, that was stupid.

-wen, i don’t want to hear about my legs.

A response rocketed back.

-Then how about your eyes?

The first daughter moved to cut the inane exchange short, but stopped. That’s peculiar, she thought, flipping back through Wendy’s emails. The headers to all three didn’t look right to her. Each of the sender’s lines read Apparently From. It was almost an accident that she noticed them in the first place. Caitlin scoured her memory, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing headers that looked quite like these. On the other hand, what the hell did she know about email headers? Had she ever taken the time to read one? Didn’t they all pretty much look the same? How could she be so sure—

Another message whistled in.

-How about your sexy smile?

There it was again: Apparently From. She thought, you’re either from or you’re not from. What the hell is Apparently From?

A young man wearing a headset and toting a clipboard edged over to Caitlin and her mother. “Ladies, you’re on in two minutes.”

“Did you hear that?” her mother asked, nudging Caitlin. “We’re next.”

Caitlin offered a distant nod as she moved from email to her iPhone’s texting icon. She fired off a line to Wendy Adams.

–wen, why are you emailing me?

The first daughter waited thirty seconds before she ran out of patience.

-answer dammit.

Another half-minute ticked by. This wasn’t like Wendy. She always had her phone with her. The damn thing was practically stapled to her face. Why wasn’t she answering?

-wen! what the hell?

Finally, the phone chimed back.

-watching survivor on tivo. get back with you later.

Survivor? What happened to C-Span? Caitlin Prescott sighed. She tapped furiously at her phone.

-what about my question? did you email me just now?

This time the answer was swift.

no! okay? text me later.