When Elena 3 opened its doors to the Boston public for the first time, Alex was surprised by the interest shown by the local and national press. But then, he wasn’t a politician.
Ted Kennedy, who presided over the opening ceremony, told the assembled gathering that in the past he had opened hospitals, schools, football stadiums, even an airport, but never a pizza parlor. “But let’s face it,” he continued, “this is an election year.” He waited for the laughter to die down before adding, “In any case, Elena’s is no ordinary pizza parlor. My good friend, Lawrence Lowell, your Democratic candidate for Congress, got behind this enterprise right from the start. You see he believes in Elena Karpenko and her son, Alex, who escaped from the tyranny of Communism in the belief that they could build a new life in the United States. They personify the American dream.”
Alex looked around to see his mother hiding behind a fridge with Anna standing by her side. He wondered if she’d told her yet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Kennedy, “it gives me great pleasure to officially declare Elena Three open.”
Once the applause had died down, Lawrence stepped forward to thank the senator, adding, “Once I’ve had today’s special, the Congressman pizza—cheesy, a lot of ham with a pinch of salt—I’ll be well prepared to set out on the campaign trail.”
He waited for the cheers to subside before going on to say, “I also have an important announcement to make. I have invited Alex Karpenko to join my team, as a press liaison officer.”
“But he’s never been involved in a campaign before,” shouted one of the journalists.
“And I hadn’t eaten a pizza before I came to America,” Alex retorted, which was greeted with more cheers.
Once Lawrence had finished his speech, Alex looked around for Senator Kennedy, so he could thank him. But he’d already left for his next engagement, giving Alex an immediate insight into what the next twelve weeks were going to be like.
* * *
“Do you think your brother reported the theft of the picture to the police?” asked Todd after the butler had left the room.
“What makes you think he didn’t?” said Evelyn, taking a sip of wine.
“The front page of the Globe rather suggests he didn’t,” said Todd, as he passed the paper across to his wife.
Her eyes settled on a photo of a smiling Ted Kennedy standing between Lawrence Lowell and Alex Karpenko. “The bastard,” she said as she read the report of Senator Kennedy’s speech before he opened Elena 3.
“Perhaps it’s time for us to go back to Boston and let everyone know you’ll be voting Republican for the first time,” said Todd.
“That would be lucky to get a mention on page sixteen of the Herald, and wouldn’t come as a surprise to many people. No,” said Evelyn, “what I have in mind for my brother will make the front page of The New York Times.”
* * *
Alex was surprised by how fascinated he became with the whole election process, and how much he enjoyed every aspect of the campaign. For the first time he understood why his father had wanted to be a trade union leader.
He liked the raw contact with the voters on the ground, in the factories, on the doorstep. He reveled in public meetings and was always happy to stand in for Lawrence when the candidate couldn’t be in two places at once.
Most of all, he enjoyed the weekly visits to the capital to be briefed by the party leaders on how the national campaign was going, and what the next policy statement would be. In fact Washington became his second home. He even began to wonder, although he didn’t mention it to Anna, if one day he might join Lawrence in Washington, as the representative for the Eighth Congressional District of New York.
The only thing he didn’t enjoy was the long periods of separation from his fiancée, and he found himself waiting impatiently for her to join him in Boston every weekend. And although the campaign seemed to go on forever, she never once complained.
They’d already set the date for the wedding—for three days after the last vote had been cast—although he hadn’t yet told his mother Anna was pregnant. Dimitri would be best man, Lawrence chief usher, and there were no prizes for guessing who would be in charge of the catering.
* * *
“Do you have photographic proof?” asked Evelyn.
“A dozen or more pictures,” said a voice on the other end of the line.
“And his birth certificate?”
“We had that even before we signed him up.”
“So what happens next?”
“You just sit back, relax, and wait for your brother to withdraw from the race.”
* * *