Ashley entered her office just after seven-thirty the next morning. Today, she wore a dress that skimmed her figure without stepping into tacky. It was a forest-green with cream polka dots, and she could hardly wait for the press reaction.
“Great news in the latest poll,” Robert said, a spring in his step.
“I heard. Geoffrey rang me,” Ashley said. “We have a fighting chance of winning now.”
“I’ll admit I worried when the party decided you should lead us. I know you’re efficient and capable. It wasn’t that. You’re young compared to other leaders we’ve had in the past. You don’t have the experience of the other candidates.”
“I have experienced advisors,” Ashley countered, having heard these same comments earlier in the week. “I think voters—some at least—are hungry for new ideas or twist
