Miss Julia's Marvelous Makeover Read Free Page A

it at all if I was the least bit hesitant about it. I’d already disappointed him by turning down a globe-trotting trip, but this I could do without having to pack a suitcase.
    So I thought about it, and the more I thought, the more appealing it seemed. I thought about those long drives to and from Raleigh—just the two of us in the car alone, the talks we could have—why, we’d have more time together than we’d ever had at home. And the thought of being the representatives of all the people in the district—working for them, improving conditions, speaking for them—I just got all patriotic and shivery at the thought. Well, of course I knew that it would be Sam who’d be their senator, but I, too, would have a small part in sacrificing for my country.
    â€œOne question, Sam,” I finally said. “Would I have to make any speeches?”
    â€œOh,” he said offhandedly, “maybe one or two. Maybe to your book club or to other small groups, that sort of thing. We’d work up a little ten-minute talk, and you’d give that over and over.” He arched one eyebrow at me. “All about how wonderful I am.”
    I laughed. “That would be no problem, except I’d probably make every woman in the district jealous.”
    â€œAnd,” Sam went on, “during the campaign we’d have to show up at every pig-pickin’, barbecue, watermelon cutting, parade, VFW meeting, and civic event around. Your job would be to stand there and gaze adoringly at me.”
    â€œOh, Sam,” I said, laughing, “you make it sound like fun. And we could take Lloyd to some of the events. He could meet people and learn all about politics. But,” I went on, getting serious, “there’s one thing I want you to promise me. Please, please don’t use the word
fight
in your speeches or advertising or anything. It just turns me off to hear a candidate—even a sweet, grandmotherly type—say, ‘Send me to Raleigh or Washington, and I’ll
fight
for you,’ as if they can’t wait to get into a brawl with fisticuffs and hair pulling.”
    â€œOkay, I agree—no fighting. You want to do this?” He leaned over and took my hand. “Are you with me?”
    â€œI’m always with you, and, yes, I do want to do it, because you’re the best one for the job and,” I couldn’t help but add, “it beats floating down the Rhine any day.”
    He laughed, then said, “One thing you should be aware of—there’ll be people who’ll be working against us.”
    â€œLike
who
?”
    â€œWell, like Thurlow Jones for one.”
    â€œ
What!
Why, Sam, you are without doubt the best-qualified, the most experienced, the fairest, most honest, and best-liked man in town. How could anybody be against you? And Thurlow?” I waved my hand in dismissal. “Nobody pays any attention to him.”
    â€œThat’s not exactly true, sweetheart,” Sam said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “Thurlow is the money behind the ones in officenow. He’s the one who makes the decisions for the other party—he’ll be against us. Not many people know it, but he pretty much runs this town.”
    Well, that was a shocker if I’d ever heard one. Thurlow Jones was an unshaven, disgraceful, and disreputable excuse for a man who delighted in showing his contempt for women in general and for me in particular. If you didn’t know him but happened to see him on the street, you’d think he was a tramp down on his luck. There was no way to tell from his appearance that he could buy and sell half the town.
    And to think that
he
was the power behind the thrones of the county and the district—it beat all I’d ever heard. Until the mail came one sultry morning a few months later.

Chapter 3

    â€œSam?” I called, tapping on the door of his office as soon as I’d scanned the letter in