Run For The Money. Stephanie Feagan

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СКАЧАТЬ my puzzled expression, he added, “Old New York family. Got money dating back to the Mayflower, no doubt. Sits on lots of corporate boards and hobnobs with royalty.”

      “And you think I should call and ask him for a donation because you’re convinced any campaign money he gives to Madeline is wasted?” Maybe I didn’t like Richard so much. I drew myself up a bit. “You’ll pardon me, sir, if I decline to follow your suggestion. Insinuating that Madeline hasn’t a prayer of winning without knowing who else might run can only indicate a gender bias I obviously don’t support.”

      Instead of taking up the gauntlet, Richard laughed as though I’d just told a great joke. He leaned close to Steve and said, “She’ll do, son. She’ll do just fine.”

      Then he was gone, and miraculously, Steve and I were alone in the corner. But not for long. An entire flock of guests were descending on us from across the room. I quickly asked Steve, “What did he mean, I’ll do?”

      He grinned at me. “Richard is convinced I should throw my hat in the ring for president. He says the first thing I need is a wife, and he thinks you’re just the ticket.”

      I was speechless. Seriously. Maybe it was the whisper of the thought of becoming First Lady of the United States of America, or maybe it was the thought of sleeping with the leader of the free world on a nightly basis, or maybe it was thinking about living at the most primo address in the country.

      “What’s wrong, Pink? Don’t you think you’re up to being First Lady?”

      My mom’s neurosis can sometimes be mine, as well. “Steve, I’m a CPA from a dusty oil town in West Texas. I went to a public university. I don’t even have china. Come to think of it, after my apartment was broken into and ransacked last month, I don’t have any dishes at all.”

      “The guy living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue right now is from your hometown. In fact, so is the First Lady. If you ask me, it’s sort of cosmic. And by the way, they have plenty of dishes at the White House.”

      I didn’t have a chance to respond, because the gaggle of guests were upon us. The rest of the cocktail hour, Steve guided me around the room, introducing me to senators and representatives, high-ranking military personnel, the IRS commissioner and the Mexican ambassador. After that we went for dinner in a dining room large enough to land a plane, where I was seated next to Steve at the head of the table and Mom was seated next to Lou about half a mile down at the far end. I was excited when the Chinese ambassador, Mr. Wu, was seated just across the table from me.

      Steve noticed my enthusiasm. He leaned close and said quietly, “Most men give flowers and jewelry. You get the Chinese ambassador.”

      Startled, I looked into his dark Italian eyes. “You invited him just for me?”

      He nodded and gave me a funny little crooked smile. “Now’s your chance to ask him about Mrs. Han and the China brides.”

      That bizarre jumpy thing in my stomach morphed into a warm, intense feeling that was as foreign as Mr. Wu. I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

      His smile kicked up a notch. “You’re welcome.” He turned to greet Mr. Wu, then introduced him to me.

      Wu’s English was perfect and we talked a great deal about the relief effort. After a while, I felt comfortable enough to ask him about something that had bothered me while I was in China. “I helped a survivor there, a pregnant woman named Mrs. Han, whose husband was killed. She was naturally very distraught, but it struck me as odd that the main cause of her distress was that she wanted to go home. The woman looked Asian, but not Chinese, and she spoke very little Chinese. It turned out her primary language was Russian. She told a story about being taken out of Siberia and brought to China as a bride. She said there are others like her, living in China, brought there to be wives to Chinese men because there’s such a shortage of females. I wondered if this is something the government sponsors.”

      Mr. Wu looked shocked. His soup spoon clattered against his plate. “This woman, where can I find her?”

      China clattered from behind the ambassador. I glanced back to see one of the waitstaff, a striking blond woman whose name tag read “Olga.” When she noticed me watching her, she quickly turned and headed for the kitchen.

      I redirected my attention to Mr. Wu. “Unfortunately, while I was looking for a policeman to help us, she disappeared, and I was unable to locate her again.”

      “This is most disturbing. Did she give you any indication who brought her into China?”

      I shook my head. “As I said, she didn’t speak Chinese, and the woman who translated knew only rudimentary Russian. After Mrs. Han disappeared, the CERF contact in Beijing, Robert Wang, said it’s not uncommon for people to be disoriented after something like an earthquake.” Remembering the poor woman, her tear-streaked face, swollen belly and woeful dark eyes, I felt a knot form in my throat. Where was she now? And what of the others? Mrs. Han said she’d been brought into China with five other young women from her village in Siberia.

      Watching Mr. Wu process the idea, I said, “During my visits to China I’ve been proposed to several times by men in search of a bride. There’s obviously a need for women.”

      He relaxed a bit, darted a glance at Steve, then leveled his gaze at mine. “It is true that the female-to-male ratio in China is shrinking, which leaves many of our young men without the opportunity to marry. It’s an unfortunate result of our law allowing only one child in a family. Because of our custom that parents live with their son in their later years, a couple who has a son is assured of a home. Those with a daughter do not have that option.”

      “Because a daughter goes to live with her husband’s family?”

      He nodded. “Many women abandon their baby girls at birth, then try again until they have a son. Despite this, the one-child law is good, because without it, there would not be enough natural resources to support the population. The side effect is the shortage of females. I suspect that an enterprising person has been recruiting women from outside of China to fill the gap.”

      Olga returned and collected our soup bowls. When she asked Mr. Wu if he was done, I noticed her heavy accent. I thought she sounded Russian. Of course, to my West Texas ears, anyone from an Eastern bloc country would probably sound Russian. And I did have Russia on the brain.

      “Thank you for alerting me to this problem, Miss Pearl,” Mr. Wu said. “First thing tomorrow, I will contact someone who can look into this unfortunate business.”

      “If you hear any word on Mrs. Han, I would very much appreciate the information.”

      Olga hurried off with the tray of dirty soup bowls, then reappeared with the salad course. She set a plate in front of Steve, then looked a little flustered and snatched it away. He shot her a confused look, to which she smiled and mumbled an apology. “I have forgotten the garnish. Please excuse me.” Before he could protest, she turned, still clutching the salad tray. She stumbled as she rounded the table and one of the salads slid off the tray and into my lap.

      It took a bit to clean up the mess—this in the midst of Mr. Wu tut-tutting and Steve glowering at Olga, who looked ready to run away. Or burst into tears. Feeling for her, I hastened to assure her there was no harm done.

      “But, miss, you’ve spots on your pretty pink dress. Please, come to the kitchen and I will clean?”

      I didn’t see much point. The dress СКАЧАТЬ