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another media event to keep him in the public eye while the Washington job was being decided. That would be tomorrow’s project.
    In his office at Transcendence House, Massey sat at his laptop inputting his schedule for the next two weeks. Breakfast tomorrow with Cecil Wright, the CEO of Kanga Systems, a microprocessor company. Massey was lobbying for five hundred thousand dollars.
    His research had revealed that Wright was a thirty-two-year-old electrical engineer, graduate of MIT and founder, at twenty-three, of Kanga. His firm went on to develop MPP, massively parallel processors used in supercomputers. He was vegetarian and single. Massey hadn’t been able to identify any activities outside of fly-fishing that the CEO enjoyed.
    What would be appropriate attire? He had located several photos of Wright and he was formally dressed in all of them. In a taped interview, he proved to be a humorless man. Massey debated whether to put on the collar or the Barney’s Fifth Avenue. As a general rule, if you were going to ask for money, wear the collar; if you’re going to ask for power, wear the suit. The collar it was, then.
    After the CEO, it was lunch with Daniel O’Leary, the city comptroller. Just a get-to-know-each-other lunch at Fraunces Tavern. Probably has mayoral aspirations. Massey had to cover himself. He’d use the suit for that one.
    His days were sixteen hours long, and he still couldn’t get everything done. He wondered how men with families accomplished anything at all.
    Someone knocked. It was five minutes after ten. Lights-out.
    “Come in.”
    Gabriella entered and closed the door. She was fifteen, barefoot with thick black hair down to her waist.
    “I came as soon as I could.”
    “Have a seat,” said the priest, beaming. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” He could feel the girl’s eyes on him.
    She worshipped him. He had rescued her at the age of thirteen from an abusive pimp who happened to be her father. She had come to Transcendence House black-eyed and emaciated from being chained to a basement radiator for three days without food or water. In that time, she had lost enough weight to slip out of her bonds. The first step was to prosecute the father, which they succeeded in doing. She was then handed over to a foster family, where conditions became painfully familiar to her. She reappeared at Father Massey’s door five months ago and dedicated herself entirely to him. She looked things up for him, ironed his clothes, tidied his office.
    “Writing a letter?” she asked.
    “Oh, taking care of a few things.”
    “I wish I could type like that.”
    The priest closed his laptop and now was ready to give the girl his full attention.
    “I got that book you wanted,” said Gabriella, handing him a library copy of
The Elements of Fly-Fishing
.
    “Ah, exactly what I need. And plenty of pictures too. I’ll dazzle Mr. Wright with my fly-tying.”
    “You like it?”
    “Hey, you’re good. What would I do without my administrator-slash-researcher?”
    “I went to a couple of libraries, but I remembered you wanted something with a lot of pictures.”
    “Good choice. I can always count on you, Gabriella. That’s a great quality.”
    He sat next to her on the couch and took her hand.
    “How did tonight go?” she asked.
    “Outstanding. We raised over twenty thousand dollars and focused media attention on our cause. That’s a mighty combination.”
    “It’s great that the law went through.”
    “Yes. Do you know what it means to make a law? Think of it. You can build a bridge, castle, or cathedral, but nothing changes the course of our lives and of history like creating the laws by which we live. Why are you smiling?”
    “I like it when you talk like that. Sometimes I try to quote you, but I can’t.”
    “You don’t go quoting everything I say, do you?”
    “I mean, no.” She gave him her other hand too. “I’m totally discreet, you know that.”
    “A lot of things go on between us