THE RAREST FAITH VI: THE TRIUMPH OF PRINCIPLES (Epilogue)
Classification: Post-Administration, Political. CJ/T, S/OFC, and - at last -
J/D.
Summary: 2011
"Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
***
January
Washington, D.C.
***
It was a testament to her popularity and her power that C.J. had not been fired
five minutes after the revelation that she'd interviewed her own husband. But
"Practical Politics" was the highest-rated show of its kind, garnering
incredible amounts of revenue for commercials. It probably didn't hurt that C.J.
was a personal friend of the President-Elect, either. No way was NBC going to
kick her to the curb.
She was, however, asked to resign, and to do so quietly.
Part of her wanted to make a fuss. The other part of her knew they were right
and she was wrong. So she compromised. She resigned - but on the air, saying
that she was doing so to take the position of Media Director for the Seaborn
White House. So there.
Her coup came in the form of taking Andrew Wang with her to Washington. Andrew
had been tapped to sit in for C.J. on several occasions and had built up quite a
following of viewers attracted to his quick wit and boyish charm. C.J. saw more
in him, though, saw poise and a rare gift for effortless spin. She made certain
that Sam also saw those things.
Andrew wasn't sure, but C.J. was, and that was enough to make him pack his bags
and follow her.
The transition team was getting everyone moved in as the Schiller people moved
out, causing no end of friction between the two groups. Josh was just now moving
in because Schiller's Chief of Staff was called away "on a family emergency" and
hadn't able to vacate until a few days after the scheduled date. C.J. dazedly
moved into what she still thought of as Toby's office and put Andrew next door
in what had been Sam's. Once in a while she forgot where she was going and ended
up in what was now the Communications Director's office. Holding that job was
Frank Torres, who had worked for Matt in many capacities and understood what it
was like to change locations. When C.J. got "lost" he would just smile and offer
her a guided tour of the White House.
On some days she realized where Sam's office had moved and it made her a little
dizzy.
Today, though, she was going over press room protocol with Andrew. She walked in
for the first time in four years and was almost bowled over by the memories. For
his part, Andrew looked as if he might panic at the sight of the backdrop with
its picture of the White House. "Oh, God," he murmured.
"I don't see why you're so impressed with a drawing of the White House when
you're standing inside the actual White House," C.J. snarked, but she was also
grinning because she remembered having the identical reaction the first time she
walked into the room.
"You're funny, C.J. A riot." Andrew glared at her and adjusted his glasses. "Do
I just...go up?"
"Yes, indeed." She walked with him, fighting the urge to take center stage as
she had done so many times before, and waited by his side while he fished out
his notes. "Got the reporters memorized?" she asked.
"Names, mostly. I haven't quite mastered which ones to call on for which
issues." Andrew glanced out at the vacant chairs. "They're going to eat me
alive, C.J. What the hell am I doing here?"
She remembered that feeling, too. She had been so overwhelmed by the size of the
task that she'd gone to Leo for reassurance. In all the hubbub of moving into
the White House, C.J. didn't realize that Leo's idea of reassurance would be to
tell her that she got the job because she was the only one of them tall enough
to see over the damn podium, and to please go away and do her job so he could do
his.
"Well, let's see. I'm running the Media Department, Frank's doing
Communications, Sam's likely to be a little busy, and I guess that leaves you
because I'd put Helen on the podium before I'd let Josh anywhere near it."
The viewing of The Tape had been a true highlight of the transition team's first
week. Josh, covered in flop sweat, denying that there was a Secret Plan to Fight
Inflation, was used as the definitive example of what not to do during a press
briefing. Josh had borne the indignity with rare humility, cringing at the
appropriate moments and only whispering "bwiefing" to C.J. once.
Andrew laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, there, boss."
"Any time." She patted him on the back and went out to the seating area,
choosing a chair a few rows back. "What do you have for us today, Andrew?"
"President-Elect Seaborn and his family are settling into the White House. This
is the first time in almost fifty years that a young child has lived here..."
***
It wasn't so much a nursery as a palace. "Her room's nicer than ours," Sam
grumbled, but he was smiling at Helen's reaction to her surroundings. The little
bed with safety bars would have to be replaced someday, but for now, with Helen
beginning to perambulate all over the place, they were going to stay with one
this one. Toys and books lined the walls, carefully set in freshly-painted white
shelves. Not just any toys, either, but gifts from heads of state and
schoolchildren, from everywhere, coming in droves after being thoroughly
inspected by the Gift Office and the Secret Service.
Nina insisted that most of the booty be quietly donated to children's hospitals.
It was hard enough to keep Helen from being spoiled by her friends and family,
much less if this sort of thing kept up. Her other insistence was that every
gift be followed up with a thank-you note - and for that reason, two-year-old
Helen Seaborn now had a secretary.
"It's all a little over the edge," Nina said. She watched Sam get down on the
floor with Helen and help her put two stuffed cats on the lowest shelf.
"It'll settle down in a few days." It took him a moment to get back on his feet.
"Ow. Too many boxes to unpack."
"What's still left?"
"Nothing, actually. Ginger banned me from doing anything else in the office. I
dropped a stapler on my foot and yelled, and six Secret Service guys came
running in. She says she can't get anything done with that kind of commotion
going on." Sam's pout was so adorable that Nina wanted to kiss it right off of
him.
"She's got your number, all right. Who's coming over for dinner this evening?"
"Josh, C.J., Toby, and Donna. They did so much for me, and I know exactly how
hard their new positions will be. I want it to be special for them. And special
for you, too, after they leave."
What hadn't been special about the last two months? But she knew what he meant,
and she stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. "How special is special?"
He gave her the smile, the full, brilliant smile that made his bright blue eyes
sparkle with mischief. The one that meant she would soon be feeling very, very
good.
"Recent polling indicates," he began, whispering into her ear even though Helen
was thoroughly oblivious, "that the majority of U.S. citizens believe that the
President and First Lady are very much in love."
"That's nice," Nina said absently, suddenly interested in the movement of Sam's
hand along her lower back.
"The same data also tells us that public displays of affection between the First
Couple are considered beneficial to the image of the White House." He kissed
her, long enough to make her a bit breathless. "So you know what I think?"
Oh, that was nice. "What do you think?"
His suggestion had something to do with fresh whipped cream and the Mural Room,
and it made her squeal with sudden laughter.
***
"Members of the senior staff are still busy moving into their offices," Andrew
continued. "The Oval Office is being organized by President-Elect Seaborn's
assistant."
"Andrew?" C.J. waved her hand in the air. Andrew just stared at her. "Call on
me," she prompted.
"C.J., do you have a question?"
"I'm not C.J., I'm Katie Witt from the Washington Post."
"This is--"
"I. Am. Katie. Witt."
Without flinching, Andrew pointed to C.J. "Katie."
Much better. "There's a rumor that President-Elect Seaborn has been prohibited
from doing any manual labor in the Oval Office because of an incident involving
a glue gun."
"It was a stapler."
"No, no, no!" C.J. got up and put her hands on her hips.
"I forgot it was you!" Andrew wiped his forehead and tried again. "I don't have
anything for you on that."
C.J. blew him a kiss as she sat down again. "I have a follow-up. I know that
Josh Lyman is just getting settled in today. Who's helping him?"
"Mr. Lyman prefers to organize his own effects." He scowled. "Nah. Most of them
have met Josh. They'll never believe it."
"Right. And he's been through two more assistants just since the election."
"I have nothing for you on that."
She started to laugh. "Andrew, that was me."
"I thought you were Katie. It's hard to tell, you know?"
"Yes. I do." She leaned back and propped her feet up on the chair in front of
her, crossing them at the ankle. "So, if I'm Katie and you get the question,
what do you tell her?"
Andrew thought for an instant. "Mr. Lyman's familiarity with the Chief of
Staff's office - both the job and its physical surroundings - is so great that
it's best for him to take care of these things himself."
***
Josh tripped for the fourth time, catching his foot squarely on a box of
briefing memos. His first instinct was to grab the phone and call Donna down
from her second-floor office, but pride won out and he settled for moping, not
that moping could really be called pride.
Opening the door to the office the first time had been like a blow. Stripped
bare, just as it had been four years earlier, the room looked empty, a shell
long abandoned. There was nothing of Leo McGarry here.
What did you expect? Josh asked himself. Leo's ghost, come by for a little
friendly haunting and advice? He wasn't sure. He just hadn't expected it to be
so...empty.
So Josh got to work. Photographs went up everywhere, saving room for pictures
from the upcoming events. He'd been working so hard at the transition offices
that he probably wouldn't remember anything about this week unless someone took
photographs. Books, hundreds of them, lay in boxes and on tables, arranged not
by topic but by height and color of bindings. He couldn't remember the name of
the temp who'd thought that was a good idea.
Most of his time was spent talking on the phone and sorting out the books while
trying to remember not to put his feet on this desk. There was a superb leather
desk set, a gift from his mother, that was untouched except for the two broken
pencils and single chopstick that were stuck in the pencil holder. She'd expect
pictures, and he couldn't imagine what she'd do to him if there were heel marks
on any of the pieces.
She'd know what to do with the books, though. He flirted briefly with the idea
of asking her to come to D.C. and be his assistant, then he realized that was a
sign of incipient madness and he went down to the Mess for a bagel.
As the fourth person stopped him and dragged him to a meeting he didn't want to
attend, Josh began to wonder how the hell Leo ever managed to get anything done.
Somehow, he managed to nod at the right times - although he did force himself to
focus for the security briefing - and, several hours later, he arrived at the
Mess in time to find out that the last bagel had been commandeered by Andrew
fifteen minutes ago.
Joshua Lyman was the second most powerful man in the nation, and he had to
settle for cream cheese on pita bread. "This is...pathetic," he mumbled aloud as
he headed back upstairs. Two interns stopped him in the hallway, asking about
ordering file cabinets for an office that was too small to hold them, anyway,
and by the time he had answered their question and moved six feet further down
the hall, he got stopped again by Ginger.
"I need you to look at something for Sam's...President Seaborn's...office." They
shared a rueful grin. Everyone was having trouble making that last adjustment,
referring to him as SamPresident or SamSir and having to correct themselves.
"What is it?" Josh asked, wondering what on earth someone might have sent as a
gift this time.
"Just come look, okay?" Ginger picked up her pace and Josh followed, hands in
his pockets. It still gave him a weird feeling to see Ginger's stuff on Mrs.
Landingham's desk, even though that desk had seen two proprietors since then. It
was even weirder in the Oval Office.
"What am I looking at?" he asked. Apart from some mail on the desk, nothing
seemed to have changed.
"Must be next door," Ginger said. She opened the door connecting the Oval Office
to Josh's and led him inside. "Ta da!"
A miracle had happened. Things were...tidy. Put away in places where he'd have a
fighting chance of seeing them again. "Did Donna...?" he started to ask, but
Ginger had already retreated and closed the door behind her.
Josh looked around the room for a while, touching this and that, admiring the
quick work that had made order from chaos. There was a new picture on the wall,
one of him talking at a meeting, gesturing with his hands, while Leo looked on
from his desk with a proud smile on his face.
"Where'd this come from?" Josh asked, running his finger along the top of the
frame. He shook off the confusion and walked out of the office to the empty
reception area.
Not empty.
Sitting at the desk, looking utterly composed and quite busy, was Margaret.
"Hey, Josh," she said, barely sparing him a glance as she sifted through a stack
of phone messages.
"Hey...Margaret." Josh jerked his thumb toward his office. "Did you...?"
"It was a wreck and now it's not. Your schedule is on your desk. You have a
meeting with senior staff at three and a transition team meeting at four. None
of these messages contains anything urgent so they're going in the gray folder,
not the red one. There are six each of pencils and pens in your holder, and
we're keeping chopsticks and other utensils out here in the third small drawer
on the left."
"'We're?' Did I, you know, hire you or anything?"
"The only assistant you've ever been able to keep for more than a week was the
only one you never hired. I thought I'd keep the streak alive."
Josh leaned against the desk, resting his hands on the edge. "Seriously. Thank
you for organizing the office - but what are you doing here?"
After a brief pause, Margaret set down the gray folder and looked up at him. "I
know you, Josh. I know you're going to try and fill Leo's shoes." She reached
out and covered Josh's hand with hers. "So I just thought I'd show you where the
shoelaces are."
He chuckled softly. "You've gotten clearance, right?"
"All done. I'm set." She released Josh's hand. "If that's okay with you."
He heard the hesitancy, the emotion. Raising one eyebrow, he asked, "Will you
bring me coffee?"
"Not in a million years."
But she'd walk through fire for him, just as she had for Leo.
"Then you're hired." The relief in Margaret's smile astonished him, then he
remembered that she probably missed Leo every bit as much as he did. And if
helping Sam was Josh's way of keeping Leo's legacy alive, then helping Josh was
Margaret's. He went around the desk and startled her with a sudden hug. "Thanks.
I appreciate it, I really do."
She shook him off, brusque and efficient, and handed him the gray folder. "Don't
you have a country to run? I'm still trying to make heads or tails of the
whacked-out filing system these people used."
"Right." Josh sauntered back to his own office, smiling, and prepared himself
for whatever else the day might hold.
***
Part Two
Classification: Post-Administration, Political. CJ/T, S/OFC, and - at last -
J/D.
Summary: 2011
"Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
***
January
Washington, D.C.
***
It was a testament to her popularity and her power that C.J. had not been fired
five minutes after the revelation that she'd interviewed her own husband. But
"Practical Politics" was the highest-rated show of its kind, garnering
incredible amounts of revenue for commercials. It probably didn't hurt that C.J.
was a personal friend of the President-Elect, either. No way was NBC going to
kick her to the curb.
She was, however, asked to resign, and to do so quietly.
Part of her wanted to make a fuss. The other part of her knew they were right
and she was wrong. So she compromised. She resigned - but on the air, saying
that she was doing so to take the position of Media Director for the Seaborn
White House. So there.
Her coup came in the form of taking Andrew Wang with her to Washington. Andrew
had been tapped to sit in for C.J. on several occasions and had built up quite a
following of viewers attracted to his quick wit and boyish charm. C.J. saw more
in him, though, saw poise and a rare gift for effortless spin. She made certain
that Sam also saw those things.
Andrew wasn't sure, but C.J. was, and that was enough to make him pack his bags
and follow her.
The transition team was getting everyone moved in as the Schiller people moved
out, causing no end of friction between the two groups. Josh was just now moving
in because Schiller's Chief of Staff was called away "on a family emergency" and
hadn't able to vacate until a few days after the scheduled date. C.J. dazedly
moved into what she still thought of as Toby's office and put Andrew next door
in what had been Sam's. Once in a while she forgot where she was going and ended
up in what was now the Communications Director's office. Holding that job was
Frank Torres, who had worked for Matt in many capacities and understood what it
was like to change locations. When C.J. got "lost" he would just smile and offer
her a guided tour of the White House.
On some days she realized where Sam's office had moved and it made her a little
dizzy.
Today, though, she was going over press room protocol with Andrew. She walked in
for the first time in four years and was almost bowled over by the memories. For
his part, Andrew looked as if he might panic at the sight of the backdrop with
its picture of the White House. "Oh, God," he murmured.
"I don't see why you're so impressed with a drawing of the White House when
you're standing inside the actual White House," C.J. snarked, but she was also
grinning because she remembered having the identical reaction the first time she
walked into the room.
"You're funny, C.J. A riot." Andrew glared at her and adjusted his glasses. "Do
I just...go up?"
"Yes, indeed." She walked with him, fighting the urge to take center stage as
she had done so many times before, and waited by his side while he fished out
his notes. "Got the reporters memorized?" she asked.
"Names, mostly. I haven't quite mastered which ones to call on for which
issues." Andrew glanced out at the vacant chairs. "They're going to eat me
alive, C.J. What the hell am I doing here?"
She remembered that feeling, too. She had been so overwhelmed by the size of the
task that she'd gone to Leo for reassurance. In all the hubbub of moving into
the White House, C.J. didn't realize that Leo's idea of reassurance would be to
tell her that she got the job because she was the only one of them tall enough
to see over the damn podium, and to please go away and do her job so he could do
his.
"Well, let's see. I'm running the Media Department, Frank's doing
Communications, Sam's likely to be a little busy, and I guess that leaves you
because I'd put Helen on the podium before I'd let Josh anywhere near it."
The viewing of The Tape had been a true highlight of the transition team's first
week. Josh, covered in flop sweat, denying that there was a Secret Plan to Fight
Inflation, was used as the definitive example of what not to do during a press
briefing. Josh had borne the indignity with rare humility, cringing at the
appropriate moments and only whispering "bwiefing" to C.J. once.
Andrew laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, there, boss."
"Any time." She patted him on the back and went out to the seating area,
choosing a chair a few rows back. "What do you have for us today, Andrew?"
"President-Elect Seaborn and his family are settling into the White House. This
is the first time in almost fifty years that a young child has lived here..."
***
It wasn't so much a nursery as a palace. "Her room's nicer than ours," Sam
grumbled, but he was smiling at Helen's reaction to her surroundings. The little
bed with safety bars would have to be replaced someday, but for now, with Helen
beginning to perambulate all over the place, they were going to stay with one
this one. Toys and books lined the walls, carefully set in freshly-painted white
shelves. Not just any toys, either, but gifts from heads of state and
schoolchildren, from everywhere, coming in droves after being thoroughly
inspected by the Gift Office and the Secret Service.
Nina insisted that most of the booty be quietly donated to children's hospitals.
It was hard enough to keep Helen from being spoiled by her friends and family,
much less if this sort of thing kept up. Her other insistence was that every
gift be followed up with a thank-you note - and for that reason, two-year-old
Helen Seaborn now had a secretary.
"It's all a little over the edge," Nina said. She watched Sam get down on the
floor with Helen and help her put two stuffed cats on the lowest shelf.
"It'll settle down in a few days." It took him a moment to get back on his feet.
"Ow. Too many boxes to unpack."
"What's still left?"
"Nothing, actually. Ginger banned me from doing anything else in the office. I
dropped a stapler on my foot and yelled, and six Secret Service guys came
running in. She says she can't get anything done with that kind of commotion
going on." Sam's pout was so adorable that Nina wanted to kiss it right off of
him.
"She's got your number, all right. Who's coming over for dinner this evening?"
"Josh, C.J., Toby, and Donna. They did so much for me, and I know exactly how
hard their new positions will be. I want it to be special for them. And special
for you, too, after they leave."
What hadn't been special about the last two months? But she knew what he meant,
and she stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. "How special is special?"
He gave her the smile, the full, brilliant smile that made his bright blue eyes
sparkle with mischief. The one that meant she would soon be feeling very, very
good.
"Recent polling indicates," he began, whispering into her ear even though Helen
was thoroughly oblivious, "that the majority of U.S. citizens believe that the
President and First Lady are very much in love."
"That's nice," Nina said absently, suddenly interested in the movement of Sam's
hand along her lower back.
"The same data also tells us that public displays of affection between the First
Couple are considered beneficial to the image of the White House." He kissed
her, long enough to make her a bit breathless. "So you know what I think?"
Oh, that was nice. "What do you think?"
His suggestion had something to do with fresh whipped cream and the Mural Room,
and it made her squeal with sudden laughter.
***
"Members of the senior staff are still busy moving into their offices," Andrew
continued. "The Oval Office is being organized by President-Elect Seaborn's
assistant."
"Andrew?" C.J. waved her hand in the air. Andrew just stared at her. "Call on
me," she prompted.
"C.J., do you have a question?"
"I'm not C.J., I'm Katie Witt from the Washington Post."
"This is--"
"I. Am. Katie. Witt."
Without flinching, Andrew pointed to C.J. "Katie."
Much better. "There's a rumor that President-Elect Seaborn has been prohibited
from doing any manual labor in the Oval Office because of an incident involving
a glue gun."
"It was a stapler."
"No, no, no!" C.J. got up and put her hands on her hips.
"I forgot it was you!" Andrew wiped his forehead and tried again. "I don't have
anything for you on that."
C.J. blew him a kiss as she sat down again. "I have a follow-up. I know that
Josh Lyman is just getting settled in today. Who's helping him?"
"Mr. Lyman prefers to organize his own effects." He scowled. "Nah. Most of them
have met Josh. They'll never believe it."
"Right. And he's been through two more assistants just since the election."
"I have nothing for you on that."
She started to laugh. "Andrew, that was me."
"I thought you were Katie. It's hard to tell, you know?"
"Yes. I do." She leaned back and propped her feet up on the chair in front of
her, crossing them at the ankle. "So, if I'm Katie and you get the question,
what do you tell her?"
Andrew thought for an instant. "Mr. Lyman's familiarity with the Chief of
Staff's office - both the job and its physical surroundings - is so great that
it's best for him to take care of these things himself."
***
Josh tripped for the fourth time, catching his foot squarely on a box of
briefing memos. His first instinct was to grab the phone and call Donna down
from her second-floor office, but pride won out and he settled for moping, not
that moping could really be called pride.
Opening the door to the office the first time had been like a blow. Stripped
bare, just as it had been four years earlier, the room looked empty, a shell
long abandoned. There was nothing of Leo McGarry here.
What did you expect? Josh asked himself. Leo's ghost, come by for a little
friendly haunting and advice? He wasn't sure. He just hadn't expected it to be
so...empty.
So Josh got to work. Photographs went up everywhere, saving room for pictures
from the upcoming events. He'd been working so hard at the transition offices
that he probably wouldn't remember anything about this week unless someone took
photographs. Books, hundreds of them, lay in boxes and on tables, arranged not
by topic but by height and color of bindings. He couldn't remember the name of
the temp who'd thought that was a good idea.
Most of his time was spent talking on the phone and sorting out the books while
trying to remember not to put his feet on this desk. There was a superb leather
desk set, a gift from his mother, that was untouched except for the two broken
pencils and single chopstick that were stuck in the pencil holder. She'd expect
pictures, and he couldn't imagine what she'd do to him if there were heel marks
on any of the pieces.
She'd know what to do with the books, though. He flirted briefly with the idea
of asking her to come to D.C. and be his assistant, then he realized that was a
sign of incipient madness and he went down to the Mess for a bagel.
As the fourth person stopped him and dragged him to a meeting he didn't want to
attend, Josh began to wonder how the hell Leo ever managed to get anything done.
Somehow, he managed to nod at the right times - although he did force himself to
focus for the security briefing - and, several hours later, he arrived at the
Mess in time to find out that the last bagel had been commandeered by Andrew
fifteen minutes ago.
Joshua Lyman was the second most powerful man in the nation, and he had to
settle for cream cheese on pita bread. "This is...pathetic," he mumbled aloud as
he headed back upstairs. Two interns stopped him in the hallway, asking about
ordering file cabinets for an office that was too small to hold them, anyway,
and by the time he had answered their question and moved six feet further down
the hall, he got stopped again by Ginger.
"I need you to look at something for Sam's...President Seaborn's...office." They
shared a rueful grin. Everyone was having trouble making that last adjustment,
referring to him as SamPresident or SamSir and having to correct themselves.
"What is it?" Josh asked, wondering what on earth someone might have sent as a
gift this time.
"Just come look, okay?" Ginger picked up her pace and Josh followed, hands in
his pockets. It still gave him a weird feeling to see Ginger's stuff on Mrs.
Landingham's desk, even though that desk had seen two proprietors since then. It
was even weirder in the Oval Office.
"What am I looking at?" he asked. Apart from some mail on the desk, nothing
seemed to have changed.
"Must be next door," Ginger said. She opened the door connecting the Oval Office
to Josh's and led him inside. "Ta da!"
A miracle had happened. Things were...tidy. Put away in places where he'd have a
fighting chance of seeing them again. "Did Donna...?" he started to ask, but
Ginger had already retreated and closed the door behind her.
Josh looked around the room for a while, touching this and that, admiring the
quick work that had made order from chaos. There was a new picture on the wall,
one of him talking at a meeting, gesturing with his hands, while Leo looked on
from his desk with a proud smile on his face.
"Where'd this come from?" Josh asked, running his finger along the top of the
frame. He shook off the confusion and walked out of the office to the empty
reception area.
Not empty.
Sitting at the desk, looking utterly composed and quite busy, was Margaret.
"Hey, Josh," she said, barely sparing him a glance as she sifted through a stack
of phone messages.
"Hey...Margaret." Josh jerked his thumb toward his office. "Did you...?"
"It was a wreck and now it's not. Your schedule is on your desk. You have a
meeting with senior staff at three and a transition team meeting at four. None
of these messages contains anything urgent so they're going in the gray folder,
not the red one. There are six each of pencils and pens in your holder, and
we're keeping chopsticks and other utensils out here in the third small drawer
on the left."
"'We're?' Did I, you know, hire you or anything?"
"The only assistant you've ever been able to keep for more than a week was the
only one you never hired. I thought I'd keep the streak alive."
Josh leaned against the desk, resting his hands on the edge. "Seriously. Thank
you for organizing the office - but what are you doing here?"
After a brief pause, Margaret set down the gray folder and looked up at him. "I
know you, Josh. I know you're going to try and fill Leo's shoes." She reached
out and covered Josh's hand with hers. "So I just thought I'd show you where the
shoelaces are."
He chuckled softly. "You've gotten clearance, right?"
"All done. I'm set." She released Josh's hand. "If that's okay with you."
He heard the hesitancy, the emotion. Raising one eyebrow, he asked, "Will you
bring me coffee?"
"Not in a million years."
But she'd walk through fire for him, just as she had for Leo.
"Then you're hired." The relief in Margaret's smile astonished him, then he
remembered that she probably missed Leo every bit as much as he did. And if
helping Sam was Josh's way of keeping Leo's legacy alive, then helping Josh was
Margaret's. He went around the desk and startled her with a sudden hug. "Thanks.
I appreciate it, I really do."
She shook him off, brusque and efficient, and handed him the gray folder. "Don't
you have a country to run? I'm still trying to make heads or tails of the
whacked-out filing system these people used."
"Right." Josh sauntered back to his own office, smiling, and prepared himself
for whatever else the day might hold.
***
Part Two