The weather turned unseasonably cold the day Rey trudged to the coffee shop down the block following her shift at the Daily. Snow flurries dusted the tops of rubbish bins and piles of cardboard on loading docks, pedestrians flipped their collars up against the wind, and dogs hurried ahead of their owners to get back inside by the fire.
She warmed herself with a cup of coffee as she waited, seated at a table next to the window to watch the city pass her by. The shop wasn't terribly busy this late in the afternoon; the lone waitress on duty tallied her receipts and the line cook read the paper behind the counter. A few other customers sat scattered through the small restaurant waiting for their trains home or enjoying a moment alone before returning to the crowded chaos of home life.
Each time the bell at the door jingled, Rey straightened up only to slump back in her seat once more. She felt foolish to be so jumpy, but the purpose of this meeting was vague and it left her prickling with anticipation.
The doorbell sounded three more times and Rey had to refrain from checking her watch or glancing at the clock above the kitchen window each time. She stared absently into her cup when the smell of cold air and a familiar voice startled her.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Hux smiled, unwinding his plaid scarf from his neck. "The train got held up and it was a further walk than I expected."
Rey rose and pulled him into a brief hug before saying, "It's not like I have plans. It's Wednesday evening."
Hux sank into the seat across from her and nodded once. "It's good to see you. Phas sends her regards."
"Tell her hello, please. I miss seeing you two."
There was a beat of silence, then the waitress paused at their table and Hux ordered a tea. It came only a minute later and Hux set the bag to steeping in the small metal pot.
In truth, she almost missed Phas and Hux more than the senator. She and Phasma had spoken on the phone a few times over the past couple months, but it felt strained after what had happened. And no matter what they felt privately about her, she knew they had to publicly toe the line that had been drawn with one rash decision.
"How have you been?"
Rey hesitated. She wondered how much Ben might have told Hux about her recently, or if he even knew Ben had come to see her?
"Getting on, I suppose."
Hux dunked his teabag and made a meticulous show of wrapping the string around it on the spoon to squeeze every last bit of its essence out before setting it aside on his saucer. He took the lemon wedge in a paper napkin to juice it and Rey had to hide her smile at how fussy he was being. Only once two spoonfuls of sugar had been meted out from the shaker did he glance up.
"I hear you're working again."
Rey chuckled gently. "If you can call editing fashion copy 'work', then yes."
Hux stirred his tea smoothly and took a slow sip, gauging the temperature.
"Well, it all sounds very accomplished if you ask me, but I never was much of a writer." His eyes danced above the rim of the cup and Rey smiled despite herself. She always loved when Hux poked fun at his friend, and despite all that had happened, she still loved it.
"Why, thank you," Rey demurred. "But you didn't come all this way just to pay me a compliment, did you?"
Hux replaced his cup in its saucer and shook his head. He looked like a cat that had swallowed a canary.
"What if I told you I had an opportunity for you to do some real writing again?"
Rey stared at him. Was he offering her previous position back to her?
"Last night in Baltimore, a woman came up to me after an event." Hux leaned forwards now and all trace of playfulness was gone from his eyes. "She had some very… interesting biographic information to share that concerns Erlandsson."
Rey couldn't help but lean in now too.
"What kind of information?"
Hux's eyes flicked around the shop as if he was afraid of being overheard.
"She claims Erlandsson is her father." His voice was nearly a whisper.
Rey narrowed her eyes at Armitage. Erlandsson was in his early fifties and had three children with his wife of over twenty years. His backstory was an unassailable picture of the American dream. If Hux was angling towards a smear campaign now, Rey had doubts about the efficacy.
"How old is this woman?" Rey asked against her better judgement. Her sense of journalistic curiosity was being piqued despite her repeated vows that she was no longer invested in what happened to the campaign.
"Same age as we are. Probably early thirties."
"But…" Rey scowled. "Okay, so he has a child from a previous relationship? Lots of people have half-siblings, how is that-"
"She says her mother worked for his family," Hux continued. He was enjoying teasing this out, it was plain to see.
Rey studied Hux. He was trying to let her draw her own conclusions, that much was apparent. Rey felt stupid as she slowly shook her head. She wasn't sure what Hux was getting at.
"His family summered on the coast in the Carolinas." Hux raised his eyebrows at her. "They have a house there. A big house."
Erlandsson's family were northerners. His great-grandfather had made a fortune in the late nineteenth century lumber trade in the north woods of Minnesota and southern Manitoba. Of course they had summer houses elsewhere, probably more than Rey could imagine. Their name stood on everything from park benches to collegiate libraries all across the upper Midwest. A historic mansion overlooked the river in downtown Minneapolis, the likes of which tourists gaped at and wondered how anyone could ever afford such opulence.
"Big houses need staff," Hux breathed.
"This woman…" Rey suddenly realized what her friend was saying. "She's colored?"
Hux looked ready to burst that she was finally on the same page as he.
"Yes." His single, whispered syllable raised the hairs on her neck.
A million questions occurred to Rey in that moment, but the one that tripped out of her mouth was: "Does Ben know?"
Hux shook his head and took a long sip of his tea. It steamed in the chilly air and he blew on it to cool the liquid further. Rey forced herself to lean back in her chair and attempt nonchalance in the face of this revelation. The pedestrians outside seemed like they were a different world from the intimate circle of their table, hurrying through the dusk to their myriad destinations. The shops rolled down their security gates and neon signs sputtered to life, busboys hauled trash cans to the curbs and snowflakes drifted silently from the darkening sky. Her insides churned with a mix of excitement, nerves and revulsion.
"So what does this have to do with me," Rey finally asked. "I don't work for you anymore."
"I know," Hux agreed quickly. "And I understand completely if you aren't interested in taking this on."
Rey fiddled with the handle of her spoon in the saucer. It had a pretty, filigree pattern that didn't match the other, utilitarian diner silverware at their table.
"I didn't tell Ben because this can't come from within our shop."
Rey nodded. "You're right not to. It would be too obvious if it did. But what makes you think people will even believe this woman? Is she credible?"
"She seemed so," Hux confirmed. "She claims to have her birth certificate. Erlandsson has met her, many times she says."
Rey could not contain her surprise. "He has? But his policies-"
"I know, he says he's for equality but he supports functional segregation." Hux shook his head. "And I don't think he's alone in that, not by any means. But this type of news could change how people see his stance."
"Well, Women's Wear Daily isn't exactly the kind of publication to break a story like this," Rey retorted. "Not unless you want cutting reporting about the outfits this lady wears."
"No," Hux conceded. "But you have connections."
Holdo's axiom sprang to mind. Real, ugly politics has to come later. Later, she supposed, was now.
"I'm not writing for the Times anymore. And how will we pay for travel and expenses?"
Hux waved his hand, dismissing her concern.
"As campaign manager, I still control the budget. There are…. discretionary funds."
"Discretionary funds," Rey repeated. She heaved a deep sigh and resumed stirring her remaining coffee. It was the last of a pot and tasted a bit burnt. The last sunlight faded behind the buildings and the sky shifted to a dull shade of grey lit by the city's artificial lights.
"We have to act quickly, if we do anything," Hux continued. "There's just not a lot of time left, and I don't want her to back out."
Rey understood. She understood well the urgency of the situation, how easily sources could chicken out after a moment of being brave and refuse to talk. There were barely three weeks left until the election, and getting this story together would likely take at least a week. If they could find a publisher, it would likely appear right after the final debate, just a week before voting day.
"How is this any better than what they did to the senator, though? Doesn't this just seem like an eye for an eye?"
Hux pursed his lips to one side in consideration.
"It's not, though," Armitage said this slowly, as though he were thinking through it for the first time himself. "Ben's not responsible for the actions of his grandfather. They're not the same person, and he's not a Nazi, no matter what Bill was on about. But Erlandsson…"
He trailed off momentarily before continuing his train of thought.
"Think of how it would look, to have a man like that in the White House. In this day and age? If he wins, could I look at the folks I know, like Finn, and live with knowing I didn't at least try to share this information with voters before hand? I don't think I can."
Rey bit her lips but her cheeks flamed. Only seven months prior she'd thought the exact same thing about the senator. That felt like a lifetime ago as she raised her eyes to meet Hux's.
"I think I know someone who might write it."