Chapter 629 - 294: A Roar from the Homeland

Harrisburg, the Senatorial Office Building.

The phones were ringing off the hook, the sound like an alarm piercing through the heavy doors and echoing down the hallway.

Senator Jason Miller sat in his office, the ashtray before him overflowing with cigarette butts.

His secretary, a young woman who had just recently graduated, pushed the door open and walked in.

She was holding a thick stack of message slips, her face pale and her eyes filled with terror.

"Senator, the phones are still ringing," the secretary’s voice trembled. "It’s all from the district. They’re asking why that bill hasn’t passed yet. Some people are saying if you don’t take a stance soon, they won’t be voting for you in this year’s election."

Miller waved his hand in irritation.

"Tell them I’m in a meeting, or that I’m studying the provisions. Just find an excuse, and don’t let any more calls through."

"But..." The secretary hesitated. "There’s one call you have to take."

"Who?" Miller’s eyes widened. "I said I don’t care if it’s the Mayor or the Union president, I’m not taking any calls!"

"It’s Lady Martha Miller," the secretary said in a small voice. "Your mother."

Miller froze.

Martha Miller lived on an old farm in Bedford County.

She was a typical conservative. Her days were spent either attending church services or baking apple pies at home.

She never meddled in politics and rarely even called him during work hours.

Miller took a deep breath and pointed to the desk phone.

"Put her through."

The moment the call connected, it wasn’t the usual gentle greeting that came through the line, but the furious roar of an old woman.

"Jason! What in the hell are you doing over there in Harrisburg?"

Miller instinctively held the receiver a little further from his ear.

"Mom, I’m working. I’m handling some very important legislation..."

"Work? You call this work?" The old woman’s voice was sharp, seething with anger. "Susan from next door, the one who’s always bragging about her grandson, came over for tea this morning. She showed me something."

"A Red Card."

Miller’s heart sank.

"She told me her nephew, the one who drives a truck in Pittsburgh, got her a family card. She took that card to a pharmacy in Pittsburgh and bought a whole month’s supply of blood pressure medicine for only twenty US Dollars!"

"Twenty US Dollars! Jason!"

"Last week, I paid fifty US Dollars for the same medicine! And I have health insurance."

Miller wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Mom, that’s a Pittsburgh policy. That’s..."

"Jason, this isn’t about the fifty US Dollars."

The old woman’s voice sounded incredibly resolute over the phone.

"This is a matter of pride."

"When us old gals sit around for tea, what do we talk about if not our children? I used to think that with you sitting in that fancy office in Harrisburg, I’d beaten every woman in town."

"But this morning, when Susan slapped that Red Card down on the coffee table and showed off to everyone how she only pays twenty bucks for her medicine, I started to feel like you being a Senator isn’t all that special after all."

"That damn nephew of hers who drives a big rig in the Pittsburgh South District is now the most dutiful and capable child in Susan’s eyes."

"She asked me: ’Martha, is Jason having some kind of trouble in the state capital? How come he’s such a big-shot official, but you still have to spend an extra thirty US Dollars on medicine? Should I have my nephew get you a Red Card, too?’"

"It’s so humiliating, Jason. The whole church is talking about it. They’re asking me why my son, the Senator, can’t get me cheap medicine."

"Are you working for me, or are you working for those damn insurance companies?"

"I..."

"Shut up and listen to me." The old woman delivered her ultimatum. "Susan gave me a flyer. It says that if we want to get that Red Card, we have to get that bill passed."

"If you dare vote against it, don’t even think about coming home for family dinner this Sunday. I’d be too ashamed to face my neighbors."

"BEEP—"

The line went dead.

Miller sat stunned in his chair, still holding the receiver.

Leo Wallace’s "Family Expansion Plan" was like an insidious virus. It had pierced the barrier between urban and rural areas, seeping into the once-monolithic deep-red districts.

It had transformed an abstract political game into a tangible benefit to be discussed at the dinner table.

When an old woman called her son, a senator, out of jealousy because her neighbor’s nephew was from Pittsburgh, it meant the Republican Party’s base was starting to crumble from within.

Miller stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the street below.

He knew he wasn’t the only one getting calls like this.

In this building, at least a dozen other senators facing the same election pressure were sitting in their offices, agonizing over what to do.

...

Downtown Harrisburg, in the executive suite of the Hilton Hotel.

Leo Wallace sat on the sofa, a glass of ice water in his hand.

Across from him sat three men.

Just a few days ago, these three had been sitting in their Senate offices, putting on a tough front and vowing to kill the bill in committee.

But now, here they were.

Jason Miller, along with two other Republican senators from key swing districts.

They were among the group facing the most pressure in this year’s elections.

The room was quiet.

Ethan stood to one side, placing three documents in front of each of the three important men.

They were freshly printed internal polling numbers.

"Take a look, gentlemen."

Leo spoke, his voice calm, with no trace of aggression.