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now.”
    Heather grinned. “You want me to be your campaign manager? Really?” She sounded like a kid who’d just been told she’s going to Disney World.
    Affection tugged at his heart. He loved his little sister. “It’s sort of been assumed all these years.”
    “Yeah, but you know, Dad wanted Eric Flannigan. That’s all he talked about last night. I thought you were going to do what he said.”
    “Eric is Dad’s guy. You’re mine.”
    Just then David’s office door burst open, and Gillian, David’s assistant, said, “No, stop, Mr. Talbert. You can’t go in there. He has someone with him.”
    Jefferson Talbert, David’s first cousin, ignored Gillian and strolled into the office anyway. “Hi, guys,” he said in an accent that betrayed his upbringing in New York City. He dropped into the second Queen Anne chair and crossed one jeans-clad leg over the other. He was wearing a red T-shirt with a portrait of Jack Kerouac, captioned with the words, “I have nothing to offer anyone except my own confusion.”
    “I need to talk to you,” Jeff said, aiming his intense gaze at David.
    “Okay, but I’m talking to Heather right now. Maybe—”
    “No, it’s fine. I’m dying to know what Jeff has on his mind. And also I’m thinking we should hit him up for the advisory committee.” Heather gave Jeff a big grin.
    “When I hear the words ‘advisory committee,’ I know my checkbook’s going to be involved somehow. I guess it’s official. You’re running for Congress, huh?”
    David nodded. “Yeah, I am. But I’m sure you didn’t swing by this morning just to tell me you wanted to be on my advisory committee.”
    “Well, if you want to know, I’m here about the wedding. I need your help with it.”
    “What?”
    Jeff dropped his leg so he could lean forward in an aggressive posture. “Neither Melissa nor I like the idea of turning our wedding into some kind of big, political gala. I’m not running for Congress, and I don’t see why we have to accommodate your career at our wedding.”
    “Oh boy,” Heather muttered. “You really don’t know how it works, do you?”
    “How what works?” Jeff turned toward Heather.
    “How the family works. Every event is an opportunity for political maneuvering. Sometimes it’s a campaign. Sometimes it’s Dad trying to work a compromise on a piece of legislation. Don’t underestimate how much of what happens in Washington occurs at weddings, bar mitzvahs, and intimate dinner parties. In fact, if more legislators socialized at events like that, there’d be a whole lot less gridlock in Washington.”
    “Well, this is not Washington, and none of that is going to happen at my wedding. I’d like to do this the nice way, by talking things through and coming together with a compromise.”
    “What do you want?” David asked.
    “I want you to tell your mother to back off and let Melissa plan her own wedding.”
    “Mother isn’t the only one planning this wedding,” Heather said in a sharp, angry tone. “Your mother is also involved.”
    “I’ll deal with my mother. She’ll see reason. Aunt Pam is the problem. I need to make her understand that we are not ever going to agree to a guest list with three hundred people, half of whom are there because you guys want to hit them up for campaign contributions.”
    “The invitations are going out tomorrow or the next day,” Heather said. “The venue has been booked. The dresses have been bought. Everything has been planned down to the smallest detail. If this was a problem, you should have raised your concerns way earlier.”
    “Melissa did raise her concerns, and Aunt Pam brushed them aside the way she always does when she gets on a roll.” Jeff’s voice rose in volume. “So I would be obliged if you would tell your mother not to send those invitations. If she does, it will be a huge embarrassment. Melissa and I are now working on alternate wedding plans.”
    “Oh my God, please don’t say you’re going