Disclaimer: I don't own the situations or characters portrayed herein. I'm just playing with them for a while.
Chapter Seven: Bait and Switch
She smiled graciously. It was a gorgeous smile, as familiar to him as his own. He dropped her hand, realizing he might be too obvious.
He knew the name she would say, of course, and he told himself firmly that he needed to seem like he had never heard it before.
She didn't get the chance to say it.
"Randall!" boomed the senator from Utah, who had by now had a few too many flutes of champagne. "Let me introduce you. Evangeline, this is Spencer Randall. Randall, Mrs. Evangeline Beaufort de la Zouch."
He almost groaned. Why in the world did she have to pick such absurdly fake-sounding names? It happened every time.
"Pleased to meet you," he said. "Would you like to go on the terrace for a little fresh air?"
"Oh, no," she said. "I'm feeling a little tired. Would you mind walking me home? I don't live far away."
He got their coats from the cloakroom, still shaking his head every once in a while over the name she had chosen. He needed to talk to her about that.
They had excused themselves and walked a few blocks away from the philanthropic society headquarters when he broke the silence.
"I could have sworn your name was Victoria Greenwich," he muttered, inclining his head.
"I decided to change it up a little," she muttered back. "It's very good, isn't it?"
"You don't think it's a little obvious?" he asked, trying very hard to be understanding but wondering, all the same, how long she could possibly keep up the pretense of being Evangeline Beaufort de la Zouch.
"No," she said. "And I have two daughters in the army. Ashley is in Iraq and Michelle is in Afghanistan. I'll give people completely made-up information, and if it shows up in Russia we'll know who the leak is."
She was going to be the death of them both.
"And don't you think people will know if there's a Ashley Beaufort de la Zouch in the army? That's not even a name." He couldn't help himself. This was ridiculous.
"Don't be silly," said his wife. "Their last names aren't Beaufort de la Zouch. They were from my first husband, Ed Hart. It would be easy to have a Ashley Hart or a Michelle Hart in the army. Besides, Ashley married and changed her name, so she's Ashley White."
This was a lot to take in. It felt like orientation week all over again. He remembered reading a book with Amanda that had a vaguely similar-sounding storyline. Agatha Christie, maybe?
"Where's your husband?" he asked, instead of going down the dangerous road of fake sons-in-law and daughters.
"Oh, he died in Palermo," she said easily. "And my second husband died of skin cancer."
Had Amanda written his own tragic backstory? She could have.
"Here's my place," she announced, swinging her handbag cheerfully. "Want to come in?"
"Yeah," he agreed, scratching his head. "I haven't had a chance to call Francine from a clean line yet. I'm guessing they have my phone at my apartment tapped, and I don't trust that smart phone."
"Where is it?" Amanda asked, balancing on one foot as she took off her shoes.
"In the cloakroom back at the society." He stepped over to her and grasped her elbow to steady her. "They think I'm forgetful anyway, so it won't do any harm."
"It's useful being old," she chirped. "They forgive so much."
"They think we don't notice things, too," he said, ignoring her use of the word old. "Like that Baynes idiot tripping so he could stick that bug on my desk at home. Or at Fort Detrick, during training, they thought I wouldn't notice that I was never given the chance to be by myself."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder where Leonard Baynes fits in," she mused. "I know Francine didn't recognize the name, but he has to fit in somewhere. I think I would feel worse about tricking him into thinking I wasn't listening at the door, if he hadn't put a bug in the desk. He seemed nice."
He nodded, dialing Francine's home number quickly.
"Francine," he said, when she picked up on the second ring. "I think I have something for you."