There was a flash, and all four of them jumped.
      "Good," the Globe photographer said. "Can you all maybe turn a little so I can see everyone's faces?"
      "Are we going to be famous?" Neal asked.
      Perish the thought. "Come on, Meg," Meg said to Beth. "Aren't you going to smile for him?"
      Beth shook her head. "I don't want to. I'm a Republican."
      "Yeah, but she's your mother," Meg said.
      Beth sniffed. "She's a bleeding heart, that's what she is."
      "Girls," Steven said sternly, imitating their father.
      "We're boys," Meg said.
      "No way," Steven said. "You're too ugly to be boys."
      Meg laughed. "Yeah, well, you're too ugly to-"
      "What do you all think of this?" Her mother's best friend, Andrea Peterson, stopped next to them, and they all sat up politely.
      "I think it's neat," Steven said, helping himself to more pizza.
      "I think it's loud," Neal said, still looking around.
      "What about you, Meg? Don't you think?" Mrs. Peterson asked.
      "Only twice a day," Meg said, grinning back. "And I used them up already."

Page 81 of my copy

     "You hear we've got a celebrity up here this weekend?"
     "Oh?" Meg tried not to groan aloud.
     [Dave] nodded. "Yeah. Presidential candidate. You ever hear of Senator Powers?"
     Meg let herself look faintly puzzled. "She's the woman, right?"
     "Yeah." This time, his nod was patronizing, and he spoke in the authoritative voice of a college freshman taking Political Science 101. "Of course, she'll never win."
     Oh, really? "Why not?" she asked.
     "We need a man in the position," he said. "Particularly these days." 
     What a jerk. "We do?" she asked pleasantly.
     "Absolutely," he said, not even noticing that she'd stiffened. "Certainly, Powers is probably qualified, and she gives a good speech, but she wouldn't have the authority, especially in dealing with world leaders ..."
     It would be fun to watch and see how much further he could get his foot into his mouth. She smiled very, very pleasantly. "Why?"
     "No responsibility," he said.
     Within seconds, she was going to have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.
     Or perhaps, not perform it on him.
     "I mean... she'd probably be good at functions - she's poised, and God, no on can say she isn't good-looking. But, you have to have a man at the top."
     It was too late for the Heimlich; they had now moved into emergency tracheotomy territory.
     "But," he smiled at her, "I'm sorry to go on like that, I couldn't expect you to be interested."
     "Why not?" Meg asked in the voice of a champion Ice Queen.
     "Well, you're-" He paused, searching for a word. "I mean-"
     "Look," she cut him off. "Before you say anything else, maybe you should know something."
     "What's that?" he asked, sounding amused by what he seemed to consider her presumptuousness.
     "Senator Powers is my mother," she said.
     He stared at her. "Y-your mother?"
     She nodded. "My mother ... Thanks for helping me up."

Pages 58-59 of my copy

     "...who knows? Maybe Clay Grundy will come from nowhere and take a lot of votes.... But Lloyd, and Foster, and McGreer are all getting ready to drop out, I think."
     Not that she watched C-Span - a lot - or, say, checked in on the Washington Post website - often - but that sounded about right.
     Her mother bent to tuck in the blankets, then hugged her, long enough for Meg to feel awkward.
     "You should go rescue Dad from the grumps," Meg said.
     Her mother grinned. "You mean, rescue the grumps from him." She went over to the window, checking to make sure that it was locked, and then closing the curtains.
     "No, don't do that," Meg said. "How will Arthur get in?"
     "I'm sure he'll think of something," her mother said.

From page 52 of my copy

     A couple of weeks after the divorce, Meg went into Boston with her friend Beth. After the divorce, Beth's father had given her a bunch of charge cards, and she loved to go into the uptight, exclusive stores on Newbury Street, look disreputable enough to irritate salespeople, then whip them out and buy a bunch of stuff she didn't need - or even really want. Meg would often comment that this was extremely nouveau behavior, and Beth would sigh deeply, and say, in a very glum voice, not everyone can be old money. Apparently not, Meg would say, and they would laugh loudly enough for the salespeople to suggest that they think about going elsewhere. Immediately.

Page 29 of my copy

     Meg tilted her head to look at her [mother], noticing the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. Unexpected lines. Lines no one would ever see from a distance. "Are you going to win?"
     Her mother shook her head. "I very much doubt it."
     Well, maybe, but her mother had never exactly been the type to embrace futility - or lost causes. "Then, how come you're running?" Meg asked.
     "I don't know." Her mother's laugh lines deepened suddenly. "I guess I think I can win."

Page 20 of my copy

     Meg studied her [mother], healthy and alert, the thin neck and face quite tanned against the white sweater. "You look like a President."
     Her mother's eyebrows went up. "Now?"
     "Yeah," Meg said. "You dress right. And you're tall enough."
     "Well, thank you." Her mother laughed. "Think we can work 'five eight' into a slogan somewhere?"

Page 9 of my copy