alone?”
“I’m in one of your limos.”
Agents, of course, would accompany him.
“I want you to keep our separation confidential. Nobody needs to know our business. You
are
going to continue helping Ben, correct?”
“More than likely.”
“Then make that the reason we’re apart.”
“In a week or so, a lot of people are going to ask questions,” he said.
“Let them.”
“What happens when the Alexander trial is over?”
She didn’t answer.
“Kate?”
“I’ll cross that bridge then.”
“Consider it done.”
There was a long pause. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was unsteady.
“You all right?”
“Fucking terrific, Peter.”
She didn’t let him say good-bye. For a moment, she sat silently, bits and pieces of their relationship dangled in her mind like a collage. Kate forced the memories out of her thoughts. She opened her center drawer, removed a small mirror, and checked her eyeliner. It really was waterproof. When she regained her composure, she buzzed Emily.
The vice president, former Speaker of the House, entered her office with a harrowing flourish. His overbearing posture was immediately visible. He extended his hand as he shuffled his portly body toward the president. Kate stood and reached across her desk.
How had he ever been elected to Congress?
He grasped her hand with a viselike grip. “Good afternoon, Madam
President
.”
The pretense hidden in his distinct annunciation set Kate’s nerve endings ablaze. Along with a sleepless night, the recently acquired title of estranged spouse, and a gut turned inside out, Owens’s smug attitude removed any possibility of an amiable conversation. Walter Owens was a champion of the double entendre, an Olympian in the sport of subtle one-liners. Kate was not mentally prepared for this battle. She was still brooding over her disorderly life. Even Gandhi could antagonize her today.
Owens sat in the wing chair and craned his neck, gazing around the office like he’d never been here before. “The presidency certainly affords you enviable luxuries, doesn’t it?”
She tried to smile, but her lips narrowed to a thin line. Owens was pushing her.
He adjusted himself in the chair, his wide hips barely fitting between the armrests. Kate noticed blood filling his cheeks. He folded his fat little fingers together as if he were going to pray. She couldn’t imagine the god to whom Owens prayed.
“Madam President, I’ll not waste time with pleasantries. There’s an uneasiness in Congress. My colleagues presume that I have a privileged link to the White House or some magical influence over you, so many come to me with their concerns.”
“Considering that you’re the VP, I can understand why.”
He fixed his stare on her and leaned forward. “My constituents ask me a lot of sensitive questions.”
“What goes on in the White House is common knowledge. Tell them to read the
Post
.”
“There is deep concern with the Healing of America platform. Do you intend to follow through and introduce these radical bills to Congress?”
She wasn’t quite sure what his angle was just yet but knew better than to respond yes or no. “That’s a difficult question. I’ll reserve the answer until I’ve had the opportunity to confer with my advisors.”
“But as I understand it,
you
drafted these bills.”
“That is correct, Walter.”
“Then why would you require consultation from your advisors?”
“It’s lateral thinking. Perspectives from a different angle are quite illuminating.”
“Madam President, your State of the Union address is in three days. Surely you must know whether or not you will discuss your bills.”
“I’m going to postpone the State of the Union address.” It was a decision she hadn’t made until this moment.
He sat upright in the chair. “May I speak candidly?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“It is not my intention to undermine you, Madam President, but you have not been in Washington
“I’m in one of your limos.”
Agents, of course, would accompany him.
“I want you to keep our separation confidential. Nobody needs to know our business. You
are
going to continue helping Ben, correct?”
“More than likely.”
“Then make that the reason we’re apart.”
“In a week or so, a lot of people are going to ask questions,” he said.
“Let them.”
“What happens when the Alexander trial is over?”
She didn’t answer.
“Kate?”
“I’ll cross that bridge then.”
“Consider it done.”
There was a long pause. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was unsteady.
“You all right?”
“Fucking terrific, Peter.”
She didn’t let him say good-bye. For a moment, she sat silently, bits and pieces of their relationship dangled in her mind like a collage. Kate forced the memories out of her thoughts. She opened her center drawer, removed a small mirror, and checked her eyeliner. It really was waterproof. When she regained her composure, she buzzed Emily.
The vice president, former Speaker of the House, entered her office with a harrowing flourish. His overbearing posture was immediately visible. He extended his hand as he shuffled his portly body toward the president. Kate stood and reached across her desk.
How had he ever been elected to Congress?
He grasped her hand with a viselike grip. “Good afternoon, Madam
President
.”
The pretense hidden in his distinct annunciation set Kate’s nerve endings ablaze. Along with a sleepless night, the recently acquired title of estranged spouse, and a gut turned inside out, Owens’s smug attitude removed any possibility of an amiable conversation. Walter Owens was a champion of the double entendre, an Olympian in the sport of subtle one-liners. Kate was not mentally prepared for this battle. She was still brooding over her disorderly life. Even Gandhi could antagonize her today.
Owens sat in the wing chair and craned his neck, gazing around the office like he’d never been here before. “The presidency certainly affords you enviable luxuries, doesn’t it?”
She tried to smile, but her lips narrowed to a thin line. Owens was pushing her.
He adjusted himself in the chair, his wide hips barely fitting between the armrests. Kate noticed blood filling his cheeks. He folded his fat little fingers together as if he were going to pray. She couldn’t imagine the god to whom Owens prayed.
“Madam President, I’ll not waste time with pleasantries. There’s an uneasiness in Congress. My colleagues presume that I have a privileged link to the White House or some magical influence over you, so many come to me with their concerns.”
“Considering that you’re the VP, I can understand why.”
He fixed his stare on her and leaned forward. “My constituents ask me a lot of sensitive questions.”
“What goes on in the White House is common knowledge. Tell them to read the
Post
.”
“There is deep concern with the Healing of America platform. Do you intend to follow through and introduce these radical bills to Congress?”
She wasn’t quite sure what his angle was just yet but knew better than to respond yes or no. “That’s a difficult question. I’ll reserve the answer until I’ve had the opportunity to confer with my advisors.”
“But as I understand it,
you
drafted these bills.”
“That is correct, Walter.”
“Then why would you require consultation from your advisors?”
“It’s lateral thinking. Perspectives from a different angle are quite illuminating.”
“Madam President, your State of the Union address is in three days. Surely you must know whether or not you will discuss your bills.”
“I’m going to postpone the State of the Union address.” It was a decision she hadn’t made until this moment.
He sat upright in the chair. “May I speak candidly?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“It is not my intention to undermine you, Madam President, but you have not been in Washington
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