Heaven And Hell

by Enigmatic Ellie

Sequel to THE QUEST. The election is over and the future has never been so uncertain.

10. A Stolen Season

Title: HEAVEN AND HELL, "A Stolen Season" (Chapter Ten)
Authors: Westwinger247 and Enigmatic Ellie
Webpage:
Notes: This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next.

Georgetown

Sunday morning

    Josh woke on the couch and stared at the gray morning light seeping into the room.  He had come home just after midnight with Donna in tow.  Not that he had remembered she was there.  He was too distracted by the meeting with Toby and the present political squall still whirling around the District from two Congressmen without a brain or politically correct bone between them.  That only one was a member of the Democratic Party hardly seemed to matter.  Congressmen Maskell and Murphy, Josh knew, had to stop being a part of the news cycle soon or there would be trouble for the administration from quadrants where they needed support for appropriations, education and environmental legislation on the schedule for the year.  The White House had sidestepped the landmines thus far, but it was one of those near miss situations that would haunt them in the future, Josh knew.  With those thoughts—and those attempting to predict when their lack of comment would come back to bite them—Josh had parked his car and gone to the apartment alone. 

    Only, he wasn't exactly alone.

   Donna had followed him home from the office.  It was a minor point that in more restful days he would have recalled.  He was at most five minutes in front of her.  Less than a minute, she claimed later.  His defense of: "I forgot" didn't remove the scowl from her face as she stood in the doorway.  He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he had not waited for her on the steps outside or that he had locked the door behind him after entering that made her so angry. 

    Whatever the case, he slept on the couch.  The next morning, when he awoke, he did so still not sure what he had done wrong precisely (it wasn't like she didn't have a key—though saying that also did nothing to help his case the previous evening).  He rubbed his eyes then his neck, which wasn't quite as sore as he had feared, and spotted Donna curled up in a chair by the window reading and sipping coffee.  She looked up at him and smiled.

    "Am I in trouble?" he asked with trepidation.

    "You know what?" Donna replied. "You've got to love me."

"I really don't," Josh replied. When her stare could be felt boring into his forehead, he elaborated. "I do, but don't have to--I choose to; it's.... It's probably better if I just shut up now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she replied. "So I was about to say I'm amazing. Do you know what I did?"

"Questions like that get me in trouble lately," he said sitting up and wondering whether there was coffee in the kitchen.

"Think," she said. In the pause, her exuberance could not be contained. "The perfect house."

"Oh, a 290/145 split," Josh responded easily. "Our favor, of course. That's about 66 percent, which would mean pretty smooth sailing for the...."

"What are you talking about?" Donna interrupted. She was used to being the one with the extraneous comments that did not quite follow.

"The perfect House," Josh said. "Toby would disagree on the exact numbers, but I'm greedy like that, and Toby doesn't understand politics the way I do. You give me 290 Democrats in the House and I would be able to...."

"Josh," she stopped him as she approached the couch and took a seat beside him. "Turn the political side of your brain off. The word house, to most people, means a dwelling where one lives. I suppose I erred in thinking that you could process more than one definition of that word, but try to keep up, okay?"

"But 290 seats held by Democrats would be the perfect House," he insisted.

"I don't care," she said waving off further discussion. "I have found us the perfect place for us to live!"

"We have a place to live."

"No, we have your apartment, which I've told you I don't like," Donna said. "It's better than where I used to live, but it's an apartment. I know it's close to the office, but I still don't care. It's a bachelor's apartment. You said we could get a house."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," she argued.

"When did I say that?"

"Well, you just didn't use those words," Donna nodded. "You said something like, 'Donna, if you can find a place that isn't outrageously priced, isn't half way into another state and isn't going to be a money pit then by all means, go ahead and buy it.'"

"And you took that to mean, Donna go house hunting?"

"Uh huh," she nodded eagerly. "Aren't I good?"

"You're nuts," he sighed, "which doesn't speak highly of me as I hired you and married you."

"Congressman Baxter," Donna said firmly.

"John Baxter?  Democrat from the Massachusetts third?"

"Do you know another?"

"No."

"Then, yes, him," Donna said.

"He's not a Congressman any more," Josh informed her. "He didn't run for re-election. After his wife died, he retired."

"I know," Donna smiled, though she felt morbid doing so. "He's been packing up his life here for the last five months so he can move to Florida to live with his son."

Josh stared at her, still unsure what this had to do with either the party divisions in the House of Representatives or a dwelling where people lived. However, he felt it was wise not to say so at that time.  The location of coffee was of more interest to him.

"I saw him at the Hill when I was rounding up some stuff for Sam Friday afternoon," she explained. "He was having lunch with someone."

"Who?  And what are you doing helping Sam?  You work for…"

"Doesn't matter, Josh," she cut him off. "Listen. He asked after you, and we struck up a conversation. One thing let to another."

"Did he make a pass at you?" Josh asked, sounding unconcerned. "He used to do that with the secretaries and clerks. His wife died of liver disease—hitting the bottle was the only way she could deal with his extra-marital..."

"Josh! Stop talking," she said placing her hand over his mouth. "He did not make a pass at me, though he definitely tried flirting. Anyway, we were talking and he sort of offered to let us buy his house."

"Donna, John Baxter was raised on an obnoxious bank roll stock piled by his father during Prohibition," Josh explained. "He used to tip cab drivers with 50-dollar bills because he never carried anything smaller in his wallet. We're not poor, but there's no way we could afford any house that man owned. A conservative estimate would place it at probably worth something like half a million dollars so you can just..."

"He's selling it for a fraction of that," Donna said. "He's got some family thing going on between his daughter and his son, and he wants to get rid of the house—well under market value if possible--and here's the kicker, he's got a buyer whose bid is embarrassingly low, but Baxter wants to under cut him."

   "I don't understand," Josh said. "He's cheating himself out of a larger profit? That makes no sense."

   "I know, but his buyer is some freshman Republican who insulted Baxter at one of the Inaugural events," she continued. "The man has a pride streak hundreds of miles wide! So he wants to rebuff this guy. What better way than to sell the place for less money to the man Republicans hate more than they hate the President?"

"And you said I wasn't a celebrity," Josh remarked.

"Were you listening to anything I just said that was important?"

"He's not serious, Donna," Josh said. "He was probably just saying that to come on to you. He wanted you to go back to his house and then he was gonna accidentally on purpose pinch you and see if you liked it. The man is a complete rake."

"I went to his place and I loved it," she said.

Josh opened his mouth and gave her an appraising look. Before he could utter his thoughts, he was silenced by the determined furrow in her brow.

"The house, Josh!" she said forcefully. "I loved the house not the pinching. I mean, there was no pinching!"

He smirked and shook his head. Donna chose to ignore the reaction.

"The place is not that far away from the office," she said. "It's farther than this place, but it wouldn't be that long of a commute. Plus, it's in a wonderful neighborhood--quiet and secluded and (in case you were curious) the demographics show it's primarily Democrat country."

"I don't care," Josh said returning to his newspaper.

Donna was undeterred.

"The house is beautiful, Joshua," she pleaded. "That's where I was yesterday afternoon when you got in trouble with CJ about…. What did you do to make her…"

    "You automatically assume that I am the one in the wrong," he protested.

    "That's only because I know you so well," Donna explained.

    "Well, for your information, I have no idea," Josh said haughtily though after speaking didn't think he'd come out on the winning end. 

    "I don't really care," Donna waved off further discussion.  "So it's a colonial design and has hardwood floors."

    "I'm sorry?"

    "Baxter's house," she said.  "Keep up, please.  There are four bedrooms upstairs and an office sort of library thing downstairs. There's a carriage house in the back that's like a studio apartment so when my family visits or when your mother does, they don't need to get hotel rooms. The yard is beautifully landscaped and...."

"I know what it looks like," Josh interrupted. "Baxter and Earl Brennan were friends, though I never understood why. I've been to the house a few times. It's just down the street from Secretary Donaldson's place. The answer is no.  I know that look, but you can just forget it. Donna, this is crazy."

"So was a trip to Greece two months ago, but you didn't hear me say no, did you?"

Josh opened his mouth to disagree, but the argument he wanted to offer wouldn't form. He knew the idea was nuts, but the hows and whys would not rise to the surface. Coffee.  Coffee would make him sound intelligent and reasonable, he decided.  However, his drive to stand up and search for the magic elixir was thwarted by the look on her face. Her pale eyes were wide and excited. Her smile was hopeful and the sound of her voice pleaded with him.

"Donna, financially, it makes some sense--it's an investment, I understand that--but realistically....," he paused to sigh. "We're never here at the apartment. In a few years, we're both out of jobs. I'm not worried about employment prospects, but who knows where they'll be. And..."

"And you said I could do this," she said firmly, the hurt in her eyes making them misty. "Josh, I want a place that's ours, a place that's ours together. This apartment is yours. I don't feel like I belong here. It's like living in a hotel room. It feels so temporary. And frankly, there are a lot of not so wonderful memories for me here."

"Donna."

"I'm thinking ahead here," she continued. "Some day we'll need the extra room."

"For what?"

"For the circus," she said and rolled her eyes. "For children, Josh. You agreed that some day we could look at adoption, and I think we'd be better parents if we had a room for the child to sleep in rather than a box beside the coffee table."

Josh sighed. It was insane to agree. And he wasn't going to. Research, he proclaimed. She needed to convince him with more than just a reprobate ex-congressman's urge to screw over a Republican who thumbed his nose at the man. If she could give him hard facts and compelling numbers, he would be willing to listen to a sales pitch.

****************

The White House

June 5th

    Sam breezed into Leo's office from the hallway and dropped a briefing memo on the desk. He exited through Margaret's area when the person sitting in the visitor's chair stopped him in his tracks.

    "Dropping off super secret government stuff or did you do a book report?" she asked as he started to exit the area.

    "Mallory," he said surprised.  "What are you doing here?"

    "Sitting here, expecting a cancellation of a lunch date I had with my father," she smiled.

    "Cancellation?"

    "Yeah," Mallory sighed. "I made a date with Dad for today and then the thing with the Congressman occurred and when you put two and two together…"

    "You get Leo tied up all afternoon," Sam surmised. "I'm sorry, Mal."

    Just then Margaret breezed into her area. "Mallory, your father called and…"

    "Needs to cancel," she finished the assistant's sentence. "I figured as much. Tell him I understand, and I'll call him so we can reschedule."

    "He was wondering about dinner on Thursday," Margaret added.

    "I think that works, but I'll check to make sure," she answered.  Margaret jotted down the message, picked up a file and left.

    "Guess that's that," Sam said.

    Mallory rose from her seat and linked her arm through the speechwriter's. "You're taking me to lunch."

    "I am?"

    "Yes," the redhead nodded. "I am currently without a lunch date, and you have to eat."

    "I was going to have a doughnut from the Mess," Sam admitted, "because I've got two more briefing memos to review, an economic speech to write for the President's upcoming trip, and have to prep for a meeting tomorrow."

    "Good, you're not doing anything too important," Mallory smiled as they started walking down the corridor. "We're going to Clyde's and have a nice conversation about… Well, something that doesn't involve your job."

    "Okay," Sam said haltingly as he smirked. "So, Mal, which Testosterone junkie are you seeing lately?"

    "Excuse me?" she turned towards him.

    "Or should I ask which want-to-be Testosterone junkie," he continued. "You seem to pick bench warmers.  I'm not a professional athlete, but that's generally the sign that they're the bad ones."

    "Sam."

    "Sorry," he apologized. "But that was so easy and it has nothing to do with my job."

    "Fine. Which tabloid is running a tawdry story about you this week?" she shot back.

    "Touché," he nodded as they turned the corner. "Wait. This isn't the way to my office. My office is that way."

    "That's because we don't need Toby's permission to eat lunch," Mallory replied.

    "Maybe you don't," he argued. "However, I also need my jacket."

    "You'll be fine," she reassured him.

    "My wallet's in the jacket unless you're the one buying me lunch," Sam ventured.

    "Get your jacket."

********************

Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff

3 p.m.

    "Hey Josh," Sam said as he entered and took a seat opposite him. "You just now eating lunch?"

    "Yeah," Josh responded as he picked up a fry. "My thing with Rositer ran over."

    "So, I had lunch today," Sam stated.

    "That's great," he replied flatly.  "Does Tim Russert know?"

    "I had lunch today," Sam repeated oblivious to the sarcasm.  "With Mallory."

    Josh picked his head up. "Mallory?  Mallory who?"

    "Yes, Mallory Who," Sam smiled. "And can I just say we had a marvelous time."

    "Does Leo know?"

    "Not unless you or someone else tells him--can we not tell him?" Sam pleaded. "Because, you know, I like my job and I'm having a good week here."

    "What's in it for me?" Josh smirked.

    "Funny you should ask," Sam said, sidling into his pitch.  "I am here to offer you a fantastic and stimulating dinner for you and your wife among friends—a relaxing evening in town, my treat, with just one catch.  No business talk.  That seems to be Mallory's thing—no office talk.  I figure, it's going to happen, but if you're there then you'll be the most likely violator since you really only have two subjects you can speak out intelligently: politics and the Mets.  No one else on the planet likes to talk about the Mets—who just dropped their seventh straight, by the way—so you'll fall right into politics.  So Mallory can be mad at you more than me.  Basically, I come out looking good and you…  Well, you're just you, but I buy you dinner and that's a pretty good deal.  So, next Tuesday good for you and the little woman?"

    "I don't understand."

    "Donna," Sam said. "Your wife, Donna.  You married her about…"

    "Right," Josh said. "I know who she is—and please, call her the little woman to her face just once in front of me.  That I would pay to see.  No, I meant, what are you saying about dinner?"

    "It's just that…" Sam stammered. "I… I really want to take Mallory out to dinner, and I think we should double. That way it will look like work."

    "Mallory doesn't work with us," Josh pointed out. "And you just said that there was to be no work talk.  I'm confused."

   "I know that, but you'll get used to that," Sam said quickly.  "You're not quite as dumb as most people think."

    "That's a jab about the Mets?"

   "Yeah," Sam shrugged.  "Toby's offered to pay me for every one I land in a weekday.  I'm up to ten bucks in this conversation alone."

   "Right," Josh nodded.  "So explain to me what Donna has to do with you wanting to sleep with Mallory?"

    "Josh!" Sam sighed. "I didn't say I wanted to…  I mean, I do, but that's not what…  This is a viable reason for me to ask Mallory out to dinner.  We can celebrate, albeit belatedly, the nuptials of some mutual friends.  I think it'll be more comfortable if she's around familiar faces."

    "So invite Leo," Josh smirked. "I'm sure that he'd be thrilled to go along and chaperone you and his only daughter while you ply her with martinis and attempt to get her..."

    "You're not helping," Sam rose from the chair. "All I want is a simple dinner request from my friend, and all I get is grief."

    "Gotta expect it from me."   

    "Josh."

    "Sam, I'm here for you," Josh continued.  "However, I'm not going to pimp for you."

    "I'm not asking you…."

    "You're asking me to arrange a date for you and Leo's daughter," Josh cut him off.   "That's close enough.  Sam, take this in the spirit it is meant: You're making me look like the mature one here."

    "You're right," Sam sighed.  "But I have a point."

    "You actually don't, but it was a good effort," Josh continued as he grabbed a folder and prepared to head to a meeting.  "If you want to throw Leo off the track or dissuade him, that's your business, but I wouldn't recommend it, and I'll have no part of it.  I make it a policy not to play around with the personal lives of my friends."

    "You set Toby up to spend time with his father last Christmas," Sam reminded him.  "How was that not meddling?"

    "Because it wasn't," Josh said.  "Okay, it was, but it was good meddling.  It was his father and…  Look, he was making a mistake that he would regret.  So, that was different.  It wasn't deceptive just opportunistic.  I just got them in the same room so Toby would stop being a jackass and listen.  There was no underhanded dealing and no manipulation.  That's the difference."

    "I'm not being manipulative or…."

    "Besides, it was Toby," Josh continued, ignoring Sam's sudden urgency and offense.  "Toby is a co-worker—an equal essentially, but this Mets thing he's on is seriously—"

   "Josh," Sam interjected.

   "Right," he shook his head then continued.  "The thing with Toby and his dad was for a good cause and I did that as a friend.  What you're asking me to do here is different.  Leo is, you know, my boss.  So, there's that.  And, basically, I don't like the whole concept of running a scheme on people I know and like.  I find that it insults them and generally makes for colossal problems down the road.  I also do what I can to not hide things from Leo.  Mostly that's because I'm not good at it, but it also has the added value of being smart."

    "You're right," Sam said, feeling a twinge of guilt after Josh's words.  "I'll try a different approach."

    "You're a good man, Sam," Josh congratulated him as they parted ways in the bullpen.

    Sam looked at Donna's desk.  There was a note on her computer screen announcing she was at a dentist appointment until 4 p.m.  He could wait.

    Donna will set the date up for me, Sam nodded confidently.

********************

Georgetown

11:30 pm

    "Have you thought about it at all?" Donna asked the moment Josh opened the door.

    "About what?" Josh asked, as he entered the apartment. "If it's about HR 221, I said that Toby was right like an hour ago and took a beating from him and Sam for my earlier disagreement."

   "No," she shook her head. "I meant about the house."

    "What did the House do?"

    "Josh!" she huffed. "Baxter's house. The one I told you about.  He called this morning."

    "I haven't thought about it, Donna," Josh stated. "Know why? 'Cause we don't need one."

    Donna rubbed her eyes then placed her hands on her hips. "But I have numbers."

    "Numbers?" he asked, dropping his bag on the kitchen counter.

    "Yes," she nodded. "You asked for research and numbers. I've got both."

    "You researched?  When did you have time?"

     "I managed while you were at various meetings," Donna explained. "And I was able to still keep up with all the things you gave me to do."

    "That's what I pay you to do," Josh smirked.

    "I am quite something," she asserted. "Now sit at the table."

    "What are you going to do to me?"

     "You wanted numbers," Donna declared as she placed a green folder on the kitchen table. "I've got numbers."

    Josh chuckled and shook his head. Donna was on a mission.

    "You wrote a report?"

    Donna lifted the first piece of paper and slid it over to him. "This is a copy from the property taxes. And the amount that I circled is the appraised value."

    Josh looked at the value, his expression remaining cool. He knew the value of the homes in the area was an easy and lofty six figures, but he had no idea that the Congressman's house was valued at that price.

    "Next item?" he asked calmly.

    "This," she replied, "is the asking price of Congressman Baxter. Below, he wrote the bid he received."

    "Mmhmm," he nodded. "That's quite a difference."

    "Quite a difference?" Donna scoffed. "Josh, this is a steal. A steal!  If I didn't know better, I'd say he was losing his mind and what we were going to do was illegal."

    "Baxter is shady so this probably is illegal somewhere along the way," Josh said.  "Besides, we aren't going to do anything."

    "Yet," she said.

    "I agree that it's…" he paused, "a price that anyone would love to have."

    "And we can have it," she implored. "Please, Josh?"

    "Don't…" Josh warned. "Don't give me that face."

    "Please?"

    Josh sighed in defeat. "This is not a decision you make at the end of the day after looking at two pieces of paper.  I'll…I'll think it over.  Donna, you don't rush into something like this just because you like hardwood floors."

   "There's also a marble fireplace in the living room and the most beautiful mahogany banister," she added.

    "Naturally," he sighed.  "Look, there's more to this than a simple asking price.  Donna, this is a huge investment and I try not to make colossal spending decisions after I've been awake and working for 19 hours."

    "You work on the budget with less sleep," she reminded him.

    "That's mostly other people's money," Josh yawned.  "Look, let's talk about this more tomorrow…. Or the day after that."

   "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she grinned as she showered him with kisses. "You won't regret it. It really is an excellent deal."

    "I didn't say yes," Josh said.  "I said we'll talk."

    Donna slipped into Josh's lap and slowed her kiss. "I'll bribe you with sex; will that help you make your decision?"

    "You're lowering yourself to that as part of the negotiations?" Josh asked, pulling back.

    "Well, no, I just...."

    Josh flashed the sexy dimple. "Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing.  Sex has its place in compromise."

    "You're awful and everything my mother told me to avoid," Donna grinned.

    Josh stood and scooped his wife into his arms. "Yeah, but you married me so you don't look so great in this situation either."

****************************

Thursday

The White House

1 pm

Josh and Sam walked toward the mess in search of Toby who was half an hour late for their 12:30 meeting in his office. 

   "Can I tell you something?" Josh began as they descended the stairs.

"Sure," Sam nodded.

"Donna wants to buy a house," Josh said in a conspiratorial tone.

"Why?" Sam asked. "She lives with you in your apartment."

"That's what I said," Josh agreed with relief that someone else saw his point. "It's not like we're ever there anyway. I spend 14 hours a day at the office--more sometimes."

"And she's gotta be here with you usually," Sam added. "What is she going to do with a house?"

"Precisely."

"And when would she see you if she's trying to keep up a house?" Sam continued. "If you're here more than half the day, she's going to be there trying to keep things in order or whatever, making sure everything's working and not leaking or whatever, she's not going to have time to drop by your apartment to see you when you're done work. I know she's a hard worker and all, but there are limits. And where is she going to find the money for..."

Sam paused in his stride and speech as he realized Josh was no longer beside him. He turned around to see the Deputy Chief of Staff eyeing him with a doubtful expression.

"She wants us to buy a house," Josh said, shaking his head and questioning why he had started the conversation. "She's found this place and thinks she's got a deal on it. I think it's a..."

"Oh," Sam said quickly snapping his fingers. "Right. Well, you should buy it. You really should. It's a steal at that price, and it's a hell of an investment."

"What?"

"Baxter's house," Sam offered. "The one with the hardwood floors and the carriage house in the back. Great landscaping and it's a quiet neighborhood; marble fireplace in the living room, you know."

"How do you...," Josh began then shook his head. "You were just saying it was a bad idea. A second ago you thought she was buying it by herself."

"I wasn't thinking," he said easily. "Then I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"That Donna asked me to work you over a bit on this," he said. "It's been a long week so I forgot until now. Don't tell Donna, okay?"

"She asked you to work on me?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "She gave me her pitch and, frankly Josh, it should have worked on you. I think someone is just a little bit resistant to giving up his bachelor pad."

"My...," Josh shook his head. "I'm not seeing it like that. I'm seeing an investment, yes, but not one that we will be able to...."

"What's going on?" CJ asked rounding the corner.

"We're fighting about a house," Sam informed her.

"Won't it make Donna jealous if you two start buying real estate together?" she asked with a wide grin. "I know you two are close and all, but I always thought you preferred blonds, Josh."

****************

Josh and Donna's apartment

June 25, 10 pm.

    Two weeks had passed since Donna had pled her case. Josh listened to her nightly ramblings about how wonderful a deal they would be getting. After speaking with Baxter (and according to Josh, no sex), he agreed to buy the house.  The closing was set for the first week of July and Donna was making it a point to continually reaffirm that it was indeed a sound investment and they were getting a tremendous deal.  To cease the repetitive diatribe, Josh relented and allowed her to leave by 7 p.m. most nights so she could get started on packing the apartment. She had hoped that Josh would help with some of it, but he usually arrived home in the wee hours of the morning after Donna had gone to bed.

    Donna was in the process of moving a couple of boxes towards the front door, when she heard Josh enter.

    "Hey," he said, setting his backpack and keys on the counter.

    "You're home early," she smiled.

    Josh nodded. "Yeah. We decided to table the discussion until tomorrow. Something about a Congressman's wife going into labor."

    "Well I'm glad you're home," she said, shoving a box into his arms. "Put that with the other kitchen stuff."

    "Where's the other kitchen stuff?"

    Donna pointed to the four large boxes. "See those? The ones marked 'KITCHEN'? That's where it goes."

    "Fine," he sighed, placing the box on top. "You almost done?"

    "Josh, watch out for the…" Donna warned. Josh tumbled head first over a box. "…box, there."

    "Thanks," he winced.

    "Are you all right?"

    "Fine," Josh huffed as he stood and hobbled first to the couch. Finding it loaded with boxes and bags, he slowly made his way over to the ottoman.

    "You need some ice," she pointed out.

    "I need some sex," he countered.  "I recall you promised that…"

    "No," Donna replied confidently. "Since you're home early, you can help me pack."

    "Donna," Josh said. "Just because I'm home, doesn't mean I am your packing assistant. I still have briefing memos that I have to read tonight because I didn't get to them today.  In fact, the only reason I'm here—other than the meeting being cancelled—is that I have a headache and….  Do we have aspirin any place or did you pack it?"

   "In my purse on the kitchen table," she sighed.  "It's Tyleno.  You can't have aspirin, remember?"

   "You know what I meant," he grumbled as he limped to get the pills.  "You know, for a cancelled meeting, they sure did a lot of talking.  I thought my head was going to implode an hour ago."

    Donna stopped packing. "And whose fault was that? You didn't have to take Toby's meeting."

    "Toby's father had surgery—he went to New York to see him," Josh explained as he took the medication. "And since I was in on those prep meetings with him, I was the logical choice to take his place."

    "But what is your objection to helping your wife pack YOUR apartment so we can move into OUR house?" she hissed.

    "You seem to have it under control," he smirked. "You're a much better organizer and packer than I am. Or so you've informed me dozens of times."

    "Don't get cute."

    "Look," Josh argued, "you were the one who said 'Josh, we need more room. I don't have enough space for my stuff. I'm tired of going into storage to look for something.'  That indicates to me that you are the packing person in the relationship and I really shouldn't intervene."

    "I expected that since your name is also on the paperwork that you would at least help in packing."

    "Why are you packing now anyway?" he asked. "We're not moving until next month."

    "Next month?!" she yelled. "Next month is one week away.  We are moving a week from this Saturday. The more I have ready to go, the less time it will take to move."

    "A week from Saturday?" he repeated.

    Donna stomped over to the refrigerator and pointed at a large sign in red marker announcing the date and the words MOVING DAY.

    "But I have a thing with Leo that day."

    "Cancel it."

    Josh looked at her. "Donna, you can't just cancel a meeting with the White House Chief of Staff. Oh, and the President's going to stop by as well. You want me to call the leader of the free world and say I can't come?  Donna, we're going to Taiwan and Singapore in a few weeks.  It's the East Asia economic conference.  Should we call them and say the United States isn't participating because you want to move?"

    "What time is your meeting?"

    "It starts at seven and it's going to be about nine hours," he explained though he was certain she knew.  "It's Leo, me and the President then half the leadership is going to parade through the office for the rest of the day along with the guys at State and Labor."

    "Fine," she relented. "You can have your meeting and then come back here. Just don't drag things out.  It might help if you explain to the President that you're ditching your responsibility of helping your wife move."

    "Yeah, I'll get right on that," he scoffed. 

    "If you ever want to have sex again, you'd better be here."

    "Can't we have sex now and that way, I'll owe you my presence—like a loan," Josh offered. 

    "I don't trust you not to default," she snapped. Donna headed to the bedroom. She quickly returned with Josh's pillow in hand. "Hope the briefing memos keep you warm tonight on the couch."

    "But there are boxes on the couch."

    Donna stormed away. "Move them yourself."

****************

    The dog days of summer arrived earlier than expected. July had one blistering day after another.  The move went as Donna expected—hectic and lonely.  Josh made a brief appearance but due to events half way around the globe, he was not a frequent visitor in the new home for the better part of two weeks.  A typhoon struck India and forced the postponement of the economic summit; that was swiftly followed by the assassination of the President of the Philippines by radical fundamentalists.  While the State Department scrambled to deal with the diplomatic morass, the President and his staff flew to New York for a speech to the United Nations. Toby had asked Will to accompany them while Sam stayed in Washington dealing with domestic issues. Leo asked Josh to stay the weekend in New York and travel to his hometown of Westport to attend a fund raiser that was being thrown at the local country club for Senator Dodd. Donna was excited to attend, having wanted to visit the town that Josh once called home. She had managed to convince Josh to stay in Westport rather than drive the hour back and forth from New York.

    The evening of the fund raiser arrived. The Westport Country Club was decorated with several strands of sparkling white lights and the table décor was adorned with silk cloths and fine china. Donna thought that the entire scene was out of a movie. She had been to dozens of fundraisers over the years, but this rivaled any Hollywood affair. The guests arrived in either top-of-the line foreign automobiles or stretch limousines. Donna felt inadequate as she and Josh arrived in a rented Dodge Stratus.

    Josh had separated from Donna earlier in the evening to attend a close door meeting with the Senator and several top DNC staffers. Donna milled around the club, looking for anyone to speak with. It was not as simple as she thought. No one seemed to even make eye contact with her. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. She had noted that during the first moments when she entered the room with Josh. More specifically, so few of the people seemed interested in speaking with Josh. Certainly quite a few knew him as they coolly greeted him by first name, but there was none of the hometown boy comes home atmosphere she had half expected. What she found instead were long and lingering glances that made her think people were shamed she was wearing a gown by an unknown designer or worse, something bought off a rack. Donna felt underdressed with a lack of jewels to shine on her neck and wrist and hands. And the conversations she overheard were perfectly catty – even from the men. This was not a serious political crowd, she realized.

    She listened to their observations and viewed their outrageous behavior from a distance – noting that everyone seemed to be quite comfortable imbibing copious amounts of champagne from the dozens of porters who swirled about the room keeping all the glasses full. With no reason not to act like the locals, Donna stripped a glass off a passing tray and wandered about the room. She overheard many more details than she cared to know about the personal lived of many residents of the area in the process. With each circuit, she glanced at the conference room where Josh was holed up with the Senator. He normally got along well with Dodd so Donna was not worried about fireworks and therefore held no worries that she would be required to keep him in line or diffuse a tense situation. So she drifted around, keeping her glass continually filled and her ears perked to the conversations.  She lost track of time eventually, which she thought odd because she was normally so conscious of it. The again, she reasoned, she had not slept well recently, the trip to New York was stressful and it had been an unpleasant afternoon going to Connecticut. Josh was not happy to be there – nor to be spending the weekend there – and the weather was stifling humid. When she finally came to rest and stood near some doors leading to a terrace she immediately started to feel tipsy and dizzy from the champagne. She scolded herself as she realized the condition she must be in; she had lost count how many glasses she was up to and decided it would be best to get some fresh air.  Taking a deep breath to ready herself, she walked in a nearly straight line to the outdoors, breathing in the warm air.

    At least there was a slight breeze, she rejoiced as she made her way to the edge of the terrace and leaned gratefully on the stone railing for support.  She was thankful her stomach felt fine and was glad for the fresh air to revive her some though the heat was still oppressive and made another drink sound dangerously appetizing.  However, rather than go seek out something, she opted to sober up a little and stare into the midnight blue sky. Her face felt hot and flushed and her brain was hazy, but she was certain Josh would finish soon and take her back to the hotel where she could let this wear off.

    "Look like you could use this," the gentleman said, offering Donna a flute of champagne.

    He was well dressed and had straight, reddish hair and small, dark eyes hiding behind round-framed glasses.  He was a whisker shorter than Donna and had a pleasant expression that set her at ease.

    "No thanks," she said gratefully, fanning herself as the breeze died down. "I've had too much already."

    "Me too," he said, handing her the glass anyway. "The good stuff will do that to you. Cheers."

    Donna smiled and held the glass, watching the tiny bubbles streak up the sides of the golden liquid in an inviting manner. What the hell, she figured as she took a sip.

    "Bad evening?" the gentleman remarked.

    "Not exactly," she said.  "I just thought this would be more fun."

    "Ah, big mistake," he nodded understandingly.  "This is Westport and this is about money—that's never fun."

    "So I'm noticing," she said thickly.

    "My name is Isaac Miller," he introduced himself.  "You look familiar.  Have we met?"

    "I don't think so," Donna said, brushing off what might be a pass by subtly flashing her diamond.  "I'm Donnamella…  I mean, Donnatella Moss.  Actually, just Donna."

    "The name is remotely familiar," he shook his head.  "Are you with the Senator's staff or with the state DNC?"

    "Oh, no," she said quickly, sorry for misjudging him.  "I'm… I'm here with… I'm here with my husband.  He's inside some place."

    "I see," Isaac nodded.  "Not a lot of business going on in there tonight – this is just to line the Senator's coffers for the mid-term elections. They're next year."

    "You know a lot about politics," Donna said coyly, letting him believe she was the dumb blond he was taking her to be.

    "I'm the out-going chairman of the local democratic party," he said proudly.  "I'd say it was an ugly caucus that toppled me from my lofty perch, but actually I just missed the last four meetings so they replaced me.  Good thing.  My practice is too busy."

    "You're a lawyer?"

    "No, I'm a dentist," he said.  "I'm just getting started so the business is important.  I was only chairman for nine months; I got a late start on politics.  On everything, actually."

    "Me, too," she said clinking her glass to his and grinning playfully.  He returned the expression.  "So if you're not one of the party leaders, why are you here?  I don't mean that you shouldn't be; I just mean…"

    "They left me on the mailing list," he shrugged.  "I didn't really have the extra thousand dollars for tonight, but my ex-wife just remarried so I figured I'd spend my money for me this month."

    "Oh, divorced, sorry," Donna said, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

    "Don't be," he replied.  "Best thing to happen to me in years.  I get to see my daughters all the time and the ex-wife nearly none of the time.  I couldn't be much happier."

    "So you decided to spend your new found financial freedom on the re-election fund of the senator of a party for which you got booted as leader?" Donna surmised.  "You Connecticut Democrats are an odd lot, you know that?"

    "Actually, I do," Isaac agreed leaning on the stone wall ringing the terrace beside her.  "But people around here will gladly let you know that I am originally from Kansas; I was born there at least.  I moved here when I was in grade school, which is part of the reason I'm here tonight.  I'm looking for a friend of mine.  He's supposed to be here, but I haven't seen him.  He's sort of someone in the party and I figured this is the only time I'd get to see him."

    "You only see him at fundraisers?" Donna asked.  "How good of a friend can he be?"

    "Recently, not very," Isaac admitted.  "It's a long story."

    "It's a long night," Donna said.

    "True," Isaac replied.  "Let me get more champagne—I paid a thousand bucks for it."

    Isaac disappeared then returned with a new bottle of champagne.  He then pulled two chairs into the moonlight near the edge of the terrace where he and Donna could sit and see both those in the ball room and the sweeping landscape of the golf course surrounding them.  They sat quietly for several minutes, drinking liberally from their glasses and easily draining the bottle he had brought back from the ballroom.  Donna felt the full rush of the tingly sensation setting into her nose and fingers and swirling around her brain, confirming she'd certainly had entirely too much to drink, though not so much that she would regret it later.  She was an adult and had chosen this route for the evening, she decided, and she was going to enjoy it as much as possible.  Josh wasn't around to be annoyed with her and no one here knew her or cared that she was there.  She knew that so long as she didn't drink too much more, there would be no worry about creating a scene—though in this climate she wasn't sure what constituted a scene.  When they first arrived just after 8 p.m., she saw one woman who was already being half carried out of the reception appearing red-faced, glassy-eyed and wobbly on her feet.  Rather than dwell on the decadent atmosphere and population around her, Donna started asking her drinking companion his life story.  He, too, had imbibed more than was wise and found himself talking to her like an old friend.

    "I grew up here," he said, pointing to a small cottage to the far right of the course.  "Right there.  My grandfather was the greens keeper.  My grandmother was the head of the wait-staff.  They raised me from grade school onward.  My mother was…. A free spirit, I guess.  She couldn't handle being a mother so she left me with someone who could—her mother.  Now, to fully understand, you have to know Westport.  You're not from here, right?"

    "I was accidentally Canadian for a while," Donna informed him draining her glass again and sloppily pouring the last of the bottle into her glass.  "But mostly I'm from Wisconsin."

    "You and I may have more in common than I thought," Isaac chuckled.  "And I'm not just saying that because we're drunk on the terrace of the same country club."

    He gave Donna an abbreviated tale of his life in the economically upscale town as they polished off a bottle of champagne.  It was not a bad way to be raised, he explained, though there were stigmas attached to him because of his lineage or lack thereof.  He had made a new best friend at school and that made life in the rich town easier.  He had been an average student—not one who stood out in any class in anyway—until he met Colleen.  She was the daughter of a wealthy banker.  They fell in love their senior year of high school; her family even liked and approved of him.  In the fear of losing her, he proposed to her the night they graduated from high school.

    "And I think that's when it all started to go to hell," he said firmly.  "It was stupid.  I see that now, but then…."

    "You were young and in love," Donna shrugged and slurred her words slightly.  "I did a lot of stupid things when I was young, too.  And when you're in love you do really stupid things. I'm sort of a case study in that, only no one has really studied me that I know of so I guess I'm not really one of those things at all."

   "Can I ask you a personal question?"

   "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised," Donna replied with a giggle.

   "Your husband is here?" he asked and she nodded.  "And you're out here with me.  Why?  Are you hiding something from him? Or…"

   "I don't have a drinking problem if that's what you're getting at," Donna assured him.  "I drink just fine.  Tonight I'm just very fine is all."

   "No," Isaac chuckled.  "I was going to ask you—and it's only because you don't look happy and kind of like you want to run away from all this—are you in love with your husband?"

   "I think so," she said and surprised herself with the answer because it never occurred to her until that moment that the answer would be so ambivalent.  "Sometimes I just don't know lately.  Things have been, well, I wouldn't say bad, but I might say not so good and definitely not very wonderful, lately.  I feel like we fight all the time.  I think it's because of the house.  Not that it's possessed, though I think it's bringing us bad luck.  We got married pretty suddenly a couple months ago; it was a spur of the moment thing, but when you're in love or think you are…."

   "I'm guessing that since you're consuming alcohol that it wasn't a shotgun wedding?" he smirked as they clinked glasses.

   "What?" Donna asked then giggled.  "No. It wasn't like that.  It was…  I don't know what it was.  I didn't really have much time to think about it.  But now that I'm a house widow—that's what I call myself.  The house widow.  We bought a house, and I never see him any more outside of work.  We work together except that he's so busy lately mostly I just get notes taped to my computer screen or get an order shouted down the hall as he runs off to his next meeting.  And when I do see him…  He's not what I call a user friendly model.  He's Donna's husband, the beta version.  I knew there would be bugs in the program, I just never thought they would bother me so much."

   "That's just stress," Isaac asserted her.  "Buying a house is one of the most stressful things a couple can do.  If you make it through this without killing each other or divorcing, then you'll be fine.  You'll have taken 10 years off your life with the worry and anxiety, but you'll be fine in the time you have left."

   Donna laughed grateful for the assurance.  She knew what he was saying was logical, but it was also humorous even without her lightheadedness.  

   "Oh," she smiled and tossed her head back to stare at the stars.  "I wish that were true.  You know, this is the first time I think I've relaxed since I got married.  What does that say for me since I'm with a stranger and I've been drinking champagne like it's water?"

   "That you're ready to live in Westport like a native," Isaac said, signaling to a passing porter for two more glasses.  "Think you can handle more?"

   "God, no," Donna refused flatly.  "I mean it this time. My head is spinning and I can't precisely feel my hands and toes – which is actually kind of nice. I just don't know that I'll be able to stand up or walk to the car if I have anymore.  Right now, I'm just on the on the outside edge of tingly.  Anymore and I'll pass through the tingly start singing.  You don't want that, trust me, because I'll sing a song that makes me cry."

   "Fair enough," Isaac said, placing the glasses on the table still in easy reach if needed.  "So what were we talking about?"

   "The crazy things you do for love," Donna reminded him, gazing and sighing at the stars.

    "Yeah, the worst decisions I ever made were done for what I mistook for love," Isaac said.  "I've come to realize that when you think you're in love it's the wrong time to make decisions.  They're never the right choices.  My friends told me I should think it through more when I asked Colleen to marry me, but no.  I was in love.  I knew what I was doing."

   He went on to explain that his best friend at the time was less diplomatic.  The friend had flatly called him stupid and crazy and several other less flattering names that Isaac had not wanted to hear.  The man even turned down a request to be Isaac's best man then refused to even attend the wedding as a guest so certain was he that the marriage was a mistake.  Years later, Isaac said he had forgiven the guy, but only because time proved the man right. 

    "That's awful," Donna gasped at the retelling.  "I mean, he was your friend."

    "Maybe more so then than any other time," Isaac said.  "He was honest with me.  I thought he was just being immature at the time, but five years ago it was apparent that my ex and I were incompatible—that's the nice word the lawyer used.  Hated each other down to the DNA is more accurate.  I think in our entire marriage we only had three good years; the rest… well.  Anyway, we were from different worlds and wanted different things—plus she's half demon, on her mother's side, I'm pretty sure.  Since then, I went back to school; got the rest of my degree; set up a practice and got kicked out of the Westport Democratic Party.  I'm a man on the move, Donna."

    She laughed at his self-depreciating manner.  She also felt a kinship with Isaac; she didn't feel like she belonged in this world either; she normally felt like she could hold her own at these functions—even half drunk on champagne.  However, this was the first time she had been surrounded by money for the sake of having money.  At least in DC, she was recognized as someone with an in to the seat of power.  It had never occurred to her that such a thing mattered to her.  In this wealthy community, she certainly felt it.

    "So your husband works with the senator?" Isaac asked.

    "In a manner of speaking," Donna said, feeling that her position was useless and seeing no need to divulge it and considering her mildly compromised state thought it best to say as little as possible.  "This was supposed to be a mini-vacation.  We had thing in New York, but this was supposed to be a quick meeting and then relaxation time.  I should have known better.  I should have just gone home and unpacked the rest of the boxes—we just moved into our house.  Not that he noticed.  He's not… domestic."

    "Then leave him here—take a cab to the shore and walk on the beach until dawn; there's a beautiful sunrise," Isaac suggested.  "You say he's in politics, so he'll have to forgive you.  If there's one thing I've learned about politically connected people, they have to forgive their friend and family quickly—they're the ones who write the books about you."

    Donna chuckled.  Isaac really did not know a lot about politics, she surmised.  He knew the stereotypical image of politicos and likely knew nothing of the diplomatic manner in which could hate people on a political level. 

    "So what about this friend?" she asked.  "Were you supposed to meet him any place?"

    "No, he doesn't know I'm here," Isaac said.  "We haven't spoken in years."

    "Really?" Donna asked.  "Maybe I'm being too dramatic, but he's not the guy who didn't go to your wedding, is he?"

    Before he could answer, the doors to the terrace opened with a rush and Josh appeared with an exasperated expression on his face.  Donna stood and waited for the diatribe then, after seeing his expression change, realized none would be coming as there was a stranger with her.  She wondered for a moment if she was going to get the pleasure of seeing jealous-Josh as he found her talking with another man—not that she wanted him to feel jealousy, but it would at least be more entertaining than the dry, status-conscious conversation she was surrounded by inside the ballroom.

    "Hi," Josh said in a clipped fashion.

    "You're finished?" Donna asked and fumbled as she tried to stand quickly.

    "Yeah," he said curtly and eyed her companion.  He helped her stand up straight then gave her an appraising look along with the set up around their chairs.  "Had a little champagne?"

   "Maybe a little more than a little," she admitted, gesturing with her fingers roughly an inch apart to demonstrate the difference.  "But it's exquisite and it's free.  You should have some because it's really warm out here, and it's really good stuff."

   "No thanks," Josh said, still looking disapprovingly at her companion. 

    "Oh, Josh, this is….," Donna began an introduction.

    "Isaac, yeah," Josh cut her off.  "How's it going?"

    "It's… uh…," Isaac stammered then readjusted his glasses.  "Hi.  I mean, fine.  Um, Donna, you know him?"

    "Yeah," Josh answered.  "She works for me."

    "You work for the White House?" Isaac asked her.

    "No, she works for me," Josh said, then relented.  "Which, okay, does mean the White House."

    Donna cleared her throat.  "Ahem."

    "What?" Josh asked.  "You do."

    "And?" Donna prompted.

    "And what?" Josh asked puzzled.

    "I'm also his wife," Donna said, turning to Isaac then spinning back to face Josh.  "I'm making you flash cards and testing you until you remember that."

    "I'm sorry?" Isaac asked.  "He's your….  I mean, you're her…."

    Before he could respond, a trill emanated from the cell phone in Josh's hand. 

    "There is a god," Josh sighed then looked at the display screen.  "And apparently his name is Toby."

    He then stepped away and took his call several feet away from Donna and Isaac.

    "I'm sorry," Donna apologized.  "Josh is just…  Wait.  You know him?"

    "Yeah," Isaac said and turned a shade of pink in embarrassment.  "I feel pretty stupid right now, actually.  Here I was spilling my story to you and…  Wow."

    "It's fine," Donna assured him.  "You weren't trying to sabotage the party; you were just saying that you weren't as active in the local committee anymore.  That's not a big deal.  No harm.  Josh really wouldn't even care…."

    "No," he interrupted.  "I didn't mean that.  I meant that you're with him."

    "Yeah," she said, puzzled.  "Oh, that's just his look.  He gets jealous but not really because he's really a pussycat—but don't tell him I said that or he'll be an absolute grouch about it to me later.  He's not going to…  The aggressive dimple wasn't out, was it?  I didn't see it.  Did you?"

    "I… uh….," he in confusion.  "I mean, I hope he knows that I wasn't hitting on you.  I wasn't.  I wouldn't, not with you.  I mean…. You're beautiful and I like you, I just…  You're his wife.  I didn't know he had a wife.  Which is great news.  Shocking, but great."

    "Okay, so I think you're saying that you know Josh?" Donna discerned.  "Oh, right.  You grew up here.  You probably went to school together."

    "Yeah," Isaac said with a rueful smile.  "Growing up, Josh was my best friend."

   "Really?" Donna remarked then the pieces of her conversation fell together.  "Oh, that's so… Wait.  Oh, no.  You mean he's the one who…."

   Before she could say anything further, Josh returned from his call.

   "I'm ready to leave," he said, placing his hand on the small of her back to direct her toward the parking lot.  "You should probably call it an evening, too."

   "She's fine," Isaac said trying to be jovial.  "Have some champagne.  We can sit and talk."

   "She's had enough," Josh said tightly.  "Good night.  Donna, let's go."

   They left quickly.  Donna struggled to keep up with Josh as he strode quickly toward the valet who was fetching their car.  She wasn't certain if it was the uneven ground mixed with her slender high heels or just the evening's intake that was causing her difficulty.  One thing she was certain of was that she didn't need to be dragged home like a disobedient child. 

   "Joshua Lyman," she said, stopping in her tracks, impressing herself that she did not wobble when doing so.  "Whatever's bothering you isn't my fault.  I'm not going to be hauled around like a rag doll.  If you want to walk with me, walk with me.  If you want to run off to the car, do so.  I'll get there in my own time."

   He looked back at her and knew the redness in her cheeks was in part due to the brisk pace he was keeping.  He never gave her enough credit for keeping up with him while she was wearing those treacherous kinds of shoes.  It was one of the many attributes he always meant to compliment her on but never managed to do so.  He sighed then hung his head in conceit as an apology.

   "Thank you," she said, catching up to him and looping her arm through his.  "Now, I don't mind going back to the hotel.  It's a beautiful room and I'm feeling very happy which could benefit you if you behave yourself."

   He sighed and walked a more stately pace to the car.  He drove the few miles back to the luxurious inn.  They returned to the room without much conversation.  Donna, who seemed to have forgotten her anger, opened the doors to the terrace and leaned on the balcony overlooking the lazy river, admiring the view of the moonlit night.

   "Hey," he said, cautiously placing his hands on her waist.  "Careful.""

   She turning around and laced her arms around his neck.  "I'm fine."

   "You're sort of swaying out here," he informed her as he casually coaxed her back into the room. "I think it'll be better if you come inside."

   "I'm happy," she informed him, nuzzling his neck.

   "You get that way when you've had too much champagne," he reminded her.  "You're going to regret this tomorrow."

   "No, because I'm happy tonight," Donna corrected him.  "I'm not drunk.  Not seriously anyway.  When I'm really drunk, I cry.  Right now, I've had just enough to be tingly and happy."

   "Whatever," he relented, then eyed the bottle of champagne he had ordered be placed in the room before they went to the fundraiser.  He had intended to leave the event earlier then return to the room and give Donna what she wanted from the detour to his hometown: a relaxing evening after the hectic summer they were experiencing.  So much for my plans, he thought.

   "Why aren't you happy?" she asked. 

   "Because I was working and I don't get happy on champagne," he said.

   "Yes, you do," she waggled a finger at him.  "Like on our wedding night.  But that's not what I meant.  I meant, happy in general.  You're so uptight lately.  You're always on edge.  What is it?"

   "Nothing," he said, though the answer was standing in front of him.  He, too, had noticed that tension between he and Donna was steadily on the rise.  The precise cause of it was unknown to him, but he suspected it was his fault somehow.  He was hoping that with the closing on the house and the moving behind them that things would return to a normal level of crazy.

   "I want you to be happy," she said pulling loose his bow tie.  "I used to be very good at making you happy.  Will you let me try again?"

   "Okay," he grinned.  "How do you propose to accomplish that?"

   "Oh, I have a few ideas," she giggled while leading him toward the bedroom, grabbing the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket as they passed it.  "First, pretend we're in Greece…"

****************

Main Street

Westport, CT

Saturday, 10:00 am.

    Donna strolled along the street, admiring the scenery and ignoring the mild headache still tweaking at her temples.  The evening had ended better than she anticipated so a tiny hangover was a small price to pay—though she was fairly certain she didn't want to see another glass of champagne for at least six months.  It was a humid July day, but the breeze coming off the river made it bearable. Donna gazed into the windows of the stores that lined Main Street. Josh stayed in their suite, catching up on messages and making phone calls. She paused at an antique store to admire a butler's table displayed prominently in front. She didn't dare enter the store—the table was, in her opinion, as much as her take-home salary.

    Donna continued walking and found a coffee shop. It was likely the only place on the street where she could afford anything.  She entered the establishment and found a familiar face instantly.

    "Isaac?" she said, touching the man on the sleeve as he paid for his coffee.

    "Donna?" he said hesitantly.  "I… Uh, hi.  You stayed overnight?  You left so quickly last night, I never got the chance to say good bye.  I was afraid that Josh had driven back to New York.  He seemed kind of pissed off."

    "No," she lied convincingly.  "He was fine.  I convinced him to stay over tonight as well.  We were supposed to stay until Monday, but Josh…."

    "Can't sit still long," Isaac nodded.  "Yeah.  I recall.  Where is he?"

    "Saturday morning and there is oxygen to breathe—he's working," Donna said ruefully.  "The point of coming here was that I could see his hometown and he could relax.  I got almost half of it, so I'm calling the trip a success."

    "You picked the wrong place if you want him to relax," Isaac said, walking with her as they left the shop.

    "Why's that?" she asked.  "I've never heard Josh say anything bad about Westport.  He used to come here for the holidays and to visit his mother when she lived here."

    "I just meant that Josh doesn't relax any place except….," Isaac paused.  "You know, I don't know that there's any place he actually does relax.  He's… or he was, about moments.  In certain situations, he might pass for what some might call relaxed.  He was always just too busy trying to get 10 minutes ahead of the minute yet to come."

    "He's always been like that?" Donna asked skeptically.  "You knew him in grade school.  He was like that when he was a child?"

    "Pretty much," Isaac said.  "He just always seems to think he had to play catch up.  It's not his fault, really.  He's just… a head case or something."

    "Don't say that," Donna began sternly.  "I mean, he just has some peculiarities.  Everyone does."

    "I didn't mean to offend," Isaac apologized.  "Let me start over.  Good morning, Donna.  How are you feeling today?"

   "Nothing I can't handle, thank you," she grinned.  And you?  How did you get home last night?"

   "I drove," he said shamefully.  "I know.  I know.  It was a bad idea; I parked my car in the hedge near my house.  I'm punishing myself today.  No aspirin and only decaf coffee.  That should teach me.  What are your plans while Mr. White House works?"

   "I was going to look around," she shrugged, then gestured to the cell phone in her hand.  "I could be summoned at anytime.  Care to give me an abbreviated tour?"

   "Gladly," Isaac said as they exited to Main Street.  "This is Main Street.  There, that's half the town.  We can see the shore and we'll be done."

   Donna laughed.  She liked his dry sense of humor. He had an easy going manner that was so different from Josh that she found it hard to believe that the two were best friends.  Josh had not mentioned Isaac at all after they left the country club, leading Donna to believe that the two were definitely not in the realm of friends any longer.  However, his lack of character assassination of the man also led her to believe that there was nothing overtly wrong with Isaac or reason Josh could find fault with her getting a tour of the town from him.  So, without any further contemplation, she got into his car and they rolled down the main drag then headed toward the coastline. 

    Isaac was obviously a member in good standing of the local Chamber of Commerce.  He pointed out the unique combination of modern activity with old world charm in words that sounded like they were printed on a brochure.  He showed Donna where Robert Redford, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward like to dine when they are in town. They then skirted the coastline and the many houses that laid claim to the shorefront property.

    "These houses," Donna gaped.  "Some of them are just summer homes?"

    "Some, yeah," Isaac said.  "There's a lot of money in Westport.  Greenwich up the road is an entire tax bracket above—if you can image.  But Westport does well for itself.  I have a small place about five minutes from Main Street and it cost me half my practice to get the mortgage."

    "Where did Josh live?"

    "You never went to the house when Mrs. Lyman was here?"

    "No," Donna said.  "Josh and I weren't….  That is, we were in Washington most of the time and…."

    "You met her for the first time at the wedding?" Isaac guessed.

    "No, Anna wasn't at the wedding," Donna said quickly.  "I met her before the first election.  Only, it was in New Hampshire when she came to see Josh during the campaign—after the convention.  I spoke with her on the phone a lot—he's not easy to track down when he's in campaign mode.  I got to know her better when she came to Washington after…"

    "When he got shot," Isaac nodded.  "Were you there when it happened?"

    "No," Donna said quietly. 

    "Sorry," Isaac said, feeling embarrassed.  "I didn't mean to pry.  It's just something that…  I wondered.  I didn't know what happened until I saw the headline the next morning.  I tried to call Mrs. Lyman, but there was no answer."

    "She was on one of the first flights to DC once they lifted the flight restrictions," Donna recalled. 

    Isaac fell silent.  It seemed wrong to have this conversation.  An idea occurred to him.

    "You want to see the house?  Josh's home?"

    "I would, but doesn't someone live there?"

    "No," Isaac said.  "The owners are relocating to California.  It's not officially on the market yet, but it will be in a few weeks.  I know the listing agent.  I can arrange a tour.  I'll say you're a prospective buyer."

    Before Donna could argue, he was on the phone weaving some believable yet thoroughly false tale.  They arrived 15 minutes later to a quiet area of long sweeping lawns and mature trees forming a quaint canopy.  They met the lister—a sassy brunette who's peck on the cheek to Isaac was a bit more friendly than professional.  Donna's suspicions about their acquaintanceship was confirmed when Isaac announced he would be showing Donna the house himself.  She said nothing but offered him an expression that said he was not fooling her.

    They pulled passed the rustic stone wall that bordered the road and rolled up the gravel driveway.  It was not like the mansions by the ocean they had viewed just moments before but a stately yet comfortable dwelling befitting a wealthy city lawyer's family.  There was a sun porch on the front of the home and a beautifully landscaped stone patio at the back with lush rose beds bursting with color and fragrance.  Ivy crept up the walls in all the proper places and while it looked finely tailored, it was not hard to image a child rushing in and out of the doors and making for the back yard on some adventure.

    The inside matched the outside with its classy yet comfortable décor.  The kitchen was warm and spacious; the dining area dignified; the living room quaint and comfortable.  There was a den that Isaac said had been Josh's father's study.  It was from there, Isaac said, he spotted the squirrels he detested so staking incursions into the garden in the back.  There were three bedrooms upstairs.  All bright and airy.  The one at the far end of the hall had been Josh's, Isaac explained.  Donna looked at the empty walls and tried to picture them covered with a child's things.  It was easy to do until she thought of that child being Josh. 

    "This was their second home?" she remarked.

    "Yeah," Isaac said.  "The other was… Well, the remains of it were torn down and they sold the lot.  They bought this one—they were in the process of buying it before the fire—it was being renovated; the kitchen, I think.  Mrs. Lyman told me…"

    "You don't call her Anna?"

    "She asked me to, but it doesn't seem right," Isaac blushed.  "I… uh…. I had a crush on Mrs. Lyman, sort of, when I was a kid.  She was very pretty and…  I didn't really have a mother so Mrs. Lyman doted on me.  I call her Mrs. Lyman because I would be amazingly embarrassed if I didn't."

    "Gotcha," Donna laughed.  "I'm guessing Josh didn't know about your thing for his mom.  He has a bit of a fit when anyone points out that his mother is a woman who men might find interesting."

    "Yeah," Isaac chuckled.  "I remember one time when I went with them to the island…. Hey, you know, I was wrong.  That's the one place where he seems to relax.  The island."

    "The island?"

    "Hmm," Isaac said losing his train of thought.  "Oh, sorry.  Martha's Vineyard.  Josh always called it the island, because, I guess, it's an island.  The Lyman's went there on vacations when he was a kid.  That and some place in Vermont.  I never went to Vermont, but I went to the island with them one summer.  I was 12 so Josh must have been 11."

    "You're older?"

    "About a year," Isaac answered as they returned to the patio outside.  "Eleven months really.  We were in the same grade, though.  Josh started school early, I guess.  Mr. Lyman used to brag that he did because he was so smart.  Mrs. Lyman usually pointed out that she was the one that needed him in school to save her sanity.  She says he was a pest, but that's only because she worships him the same way his father did but didn't want him to be arrogant.  Which, as I'm sure you can attest, was a colossal failure."

   Donna bit her lip not to laugh.  It was true and that was what made it so funny.  Still, she didn't feel laughing at Josh's expense when he wasn't there to defend himself was appropriate. 

   "He's confident in himself when he believes he's right," Donna said diplomatically.

   "You are the politician's wife," Isaac said in such a way that it didn't sound like an insult.  "Figures he'd find himself someone pretty and smart.  I never thought he'd marry—he's so picky and definite about things.  You must be one amazing woman."

   "Thank you," she said quietly, feeling adequate for the first time since entering the town.  "So he was always so…  well, him?"

   "Josh always knew what he wanted to do," Isaac said.  "From as far back as I can remember, he wanted to be a part of politics.  Which tells you how twisted and demented he was as a child.  What kid wants to be a politician?  When the rest of us were still thinking of becoming professional athletes or fighter pilots, Josh wanted to work in the White House.  The first time he told me—I think we were about 10—he told me while we were sitting out here on the patio trading baseball cards.  Actually, he was telling me  I got cheated when I traded some of my cards to Joey Lipton at school.  Anyway, we started talking about the cards and I said I was going to have my own card some day.  Isaac Miller, baseball star.  Typical aspiration for a boy, right?  Josh looks at me and says I'm going to work for the country.  I asked why and he said, and I can hear it clear as day even today, so I can fix things.  I remember his father was sitting right over there on that bench.  He looked up and grinned.  Mr. Lyman had this grin that only Josh got from him.  I know it because my girls get it from me; you know the one your dad gives you when he's insanely proud but doesn't want to get mushy about it?  What are you going to fix, Joshua?, he asked.  Josh looks back at him, as confident as can be, and says Everything I can."

    Donna looked at the empty bench and tried to envision that grin.  She had seen such a one on her father's face—the last time was on the day he opened the picture of her with the President.  She knew he had been proud of her but that day meant more than she could say then or now.  She thought next of the person who sent that photo to her.  His life was so different from hers.  It was more than just the difference between a condo and the price tag she knew was on the place he once called home. 

    "Josh might have been younger than me on the calendar, but he was way ahead of me like that," Isaac said.  "He just always seemed to know where he should be and what he should be doing.  I guess that's because he knew where he was going.  You could argue that he had an awful childhood in some ways because of what happened, but he did what Josh does best.  He adapted and he moved on.  I don't think he was ever comfortable here in Westport—not comfortable in his skin, I mean.  So much of what happens here is slow and nothing really changes all that much.  It was never dynamic enough for him.  When I went to see him in Boston before my wedding, I really noticed it—how much better he is at being a part of something bigger."

    "Why?"

    "He was so different," Isaac said.  "I was this know-it-all 19 year-old about to get married who had it all figured out.  I was marrying a rich girl and her family was going to support us while I finished school and then it was going to be easy street.  So I went up to Cambridge to see Josh and ask him to be my best man.  We had drifted apart some since graduation, but he was still my best friend.  When I got engaged he didn't say much, which I guess is something because he wasn't one for holding his tongue.  Then we went off to different schools and he didn't come home that summer and I didn't hear from him."

    "He didn't come home?" Donna asked.  "Where did he go?"

    "He stayed in Boston to work and take summer classes," Isaac said, giving her a puzzled look.  "You don't know any of this?  Of course not.  Josh doesn't talk about yesterday.  Sorry, my bad.  I'm rusty on Joshua Lyman etiquette.  Never talk about today what happened yesterday unless it affects tomorrow.  Which is kind of funny when you think about it since he's such a nut about history.  He's still a nut about history, isn't he?"

    "He's a walking encyclopedia some days," Donna assured him.

    "Figures," Isaac scoffed.  "Well, I went to this house he and some guys were renting in Cambridge.  It was odd seeing him first after a year or more.  He looked different.  He was finally 18—a legal adult—and somehow he got taller than me!  There were these girls—no, I mean, women—in his room.  They were going over something for a political science class, and I sat in the corner while they argued with him and then agreed with him and then started arguing again.  Two of them were flirting with him mercilessly; he, naturally, was oblivious to this because he had a point to prove.  Anyway, the study group splits up and we headed out to get something to eat.  There was this profound change in him but it was subtle at the same time.  He was among equals maybe or he finally felt like he was keeping pace with the race or something.  I could see it, even in the way he walked.  There was this air of confidence where before it had been like trepidation bordering on daring.  That was the first time, the only time, I was jealous for who he was rather than what he had.  And it was right about the time that I realized this that he gave it to me, right between the eyes."

    "About your wedding?" Donna asked.

    "About the wedding, about Colleen, about my goals, about my plans to get those goals," Isaac said.  "Things got a little heated; he didn't seem to mind shouting at me in public.  We didn't say much heading back to his place.  I was staying the night so I headed upstairs.  He left.  One of the guys told me he was off with his girl sitting on some dorm discussing the fate and relevance of the ever-expanding universe.  I figured he meant they were having sex back at her place.  But you know what?"

    "They were actually sitting on a dorm roof talking about the world," Donna said.  "Yeah.  I know her.  She's a writer and she published a story about it several years ago."

    "Oh," Isaac said.  "Anyway, he told me what he thought; refused to stand up with me when he was sure I was making a mistake and not even one for the right reasons.  That was a big thing with Josh.  You could make a mistake if it's for the right reasons.  He'd stand by you, even when you were wrong, if you had a good reason for being wrong.  See what I mean?  It's insane and sanctimonious and somehow how it's sage and honorable beyond words that I know.  I started thinking about him when I went through the divorce.  Kept saying that I'd look him up someday and say no hard feelings—not even for not coming to my wedding.  His parents came, but he boycotted out of principle or what he was calling principle.  Then after what happened in Virginia…  I said there was no waiting for someday.  I must have picked up the phone 50 maybe 100 times in the last three years, but something stopped me.  So when I saw he was coming to town, I thought, well, he's coming to me so I have no excuse.  I guess it never occurred to me that the reason we didn't talk in all this time was because he was mad at me."

****************

Inn at National Hall

Westport, CT

The Bulldog Suite

    The summer breeze gently danced across the river. Donna cinched her robe tighter as she gazed out into the night sky from the balcony. She thought back to the events of the day. She marveled at how modern, yet quaint the Town of Westport was. She knew that Josh didn't want for anything growing up, but she never imagined that his family was wealthy. According to Isaac, the Lymans were considered middle-class by Westport's standards.

    Isaac. There was a man she could commiserate with. Someone who felt as out of touch in this world as she did. Donna glanced down at her diamond. She knew she loved Josh – more than she knew how to love someone. But they were truly from different worlds. His of country clubs and million dollar homes; hers of dairy farms and condos.

    "Donna?" Josh asked, the ends of his hair dripping from his recent shower. "What are you doing out here?"

    "Thinking," she sighed.

    "That can't be good," he smirked.

   "We're too different," Donna said softly.  "I don't think we ever would have been in the same social circle."

    Josh joined her on the balcony. "Where is this coming from? If Isaac…"

    "No," she cut him off. "Isaac has nothing to do with it. He's a very nice guy who had it rough, especially growing up in this town."

    "His circumstances weren't all that great, yes," he agreed. "But he had an out. He could've left for college. He did decent on his SATs. Instead he decided to marry some girl that he drooled over."

    "He divorced her," she answered.

    "He did?"

    "If you'd bother to speak more than one word sentences to him, you would have known," she remarked.  "He went to the fundraiser to see you."

    "Oh."

    "Mmhmm," Donna nodded. "He and I talked while you were schmoozing with the Senator."

    "You were out there acting like a couple lushes, and I do not schmooze," Josh argued. "Leo wanted me to speak to him about upcoming pieces of legislation. Why I couldn't talk with him on Monday…"

    "I suggested it," she admitted.  "And there was nothing wrong with my conversation with Isaac.  You make it sound tawdry.  We were sharing a friendly drink and I don't recall you being too upset about it later that evening."

    "What are we talking about?" he asked in confusion.

    "I don't recall," Donna exhaled. "I just wanted to say I didn't realize just how different we are until I came here."

    "Donna…"

    "You," she exclaimed, gesturing towards the riverfront, "came from here. I came from Wisconsin."

    "So?"

    "So?" Donna repeated. "Josh, the public library here is better than the one in my high school!"

    Josh shrugged. "We like to read."

    "My mother's condo could fit inside this suite!"

    "No it wouldn't," Josh corrected.

    "I'm just saying…"

    "Donna," Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. "This town… is just a town. I grew up here; I went to school here. I don't have a trust fund.  I don't live off old money or the bank roll my father socked away.  I lived here.  I left here."

    "The people I've met seem so phony," Donna sniffed.

   "Some of them are," Josh said.  "You find people like that everywhere.  I sort of forget we don't have the monopoly on that in Washington."

    "It's not all bad," she relented.  "I like Isaac.  You made a friendship with Isaac when no one else in this town would."

    "I'm not a saint," Josh groused. "He sat behind me in class."

    "You were his friend," she said simply.  "Why did that change?'

   "I don't know," he said stiffly. 

   "Yes, you do," she countered.  "I know that tone.  Joshua Lyman.  Don't lie to me."

   "He skipped my father's funeral," Josh snapped.  "There.  Am I entitled to the offense I feel?  He practically lived at my house when we were in school.  My father was even his attorney for a few things.  And he died and Isaac Miller didn't even show up to pay his respects.  I can't…. I won't forgive that."

   "He didn't come at all?" Donna asked, surprised at the information.  "The way he spoke about your father today, I would have thought…  It sounded like he cared for your family a lot.  He speaks highly of your mother."

   "Well, apparently they're just words," Josh replied.  "People are more than the sob story they tell you over a bottle of champagne, Donna.  He sent my mother a note a week after the service."

   "Well, that's something," she said.

   "It just said he was very sorry for her loss," Josh continued hotly.  "Very sorry for your loss.  That's it.  No explanation.  Nothing more personal.  Did I get a call or a letter or anything?  No."

   "Josh, it was five years ago," Donna said as she recalled something Isaac told her.  "He was in the middle of his divorce."

   "And I had just lost the most important person in my life unexpectedly," Josh countered.  "You want to take up his cause, go ahead.  I have no time for the Isaac Miller's of this world.  They want attention and sympathy, but they're not the kind of person you can count on.  They don't want to hear the truth and they don't care to be there unless there is something in it for them.  I may be a politician, but I don't treat the people I call friends that way.  Do you?"

     Donna fell silent for a moment.  What he told her seemed so inconsistent with the person she had spent the day with, yet it seemed like a logical reason for Josh to hold such a grudge against someone.  It seemed more logical than him not approving of a friend's choice of spouse.  Donna sighed and realized again that she was too ready to believe people and take them at their word.  It was one of the things she knew caused her problems time and again, but it was also something she had never been able to break herself of.  Not that she felt she must.  It was that instinct, flawed though it was, that drew her to Josh.  It was, she realized, also one of the reasons she agreed to the hasty wedding in Greece.  He had said he would love her forever and she believed him.  Though current events were making her question that from time to time, she was not ready to abandon all hope.

    "Maybe he was not a good friend when your father died, but he does pay his respects," Donna said in the man's defense. 

   "Right."

   "He goes to the cemetery once a month," she said.  "He told me so and I believed him.  He knew right where the stone was.  He went right to it."

   "You went to the cemetery?" Josh asked.  "He brought you there as part of the tour?"

    "He took me to your house, too," Donna said quietly.

    Josh paused. "I'm sorry?"

    "He took me to where you grew up," she replied.

    "W-why did he do that?" Josh stammered. "Does he know the people who live there?"

    Donna shook her head. "No one lives there. It's up for sale."

    "Really?"

    "Yes," Donna said. "Isaac knows the agent, but I think he knows her better than he let on…"

    "Don't give me details," he moaned. "So you went to the house?"

    Donna curled up beside him "Yes, I did.   It's a lovely home. I saw your mother's rose garden."

    Josh grinned. "She loved those roses. She transplanted them from the other house… Some of them were from her mother's rose garden.  Is the stone bench still there?  There used to be one out on the patio. It used to be on the far left under this red maple."

    She smiled. "Still there."

    "My dad used to sit there on Sunday mornings and read the paper," he explained. "Every Sunday until the snow fell or unless it was raining. Didn't matter how cold it got. That's where the squirrels really annoyed him. He…uh, he didn't like squirrels."

    "Do you want to go look at it?" she asked.

    Josh shook his head emphatically. "No. It's in the past, Donna. I don't live there."

    "Are you sure?"

    "Donna," Josh sighed. "There's absolutely nothing here that would make me want to…The only reason I come back here at all is…"

    "I saw that you went there," Donna said softly.  "When we went to the cemetery.  I asked Isaac to take me there so I could pay my respects.  He noticed that you'd been there."

    "I'm sorry?"

     "The pink rock on your sister's headstone," Donna said, her eyes misty as they were when Isaac first explained the significance of the rock.  "You place a rock on the stone as a symbol of continuing love and concern for those you have lost."

    "I know that," Josh paused, and then exhaled. "But how did you know that I put a pink…"

   "Isaac told me," she said.  "He said you always leave a pink stone for her because you remember that it was her favorite color.  I saw that there's an inscription on her stone next to the musical notes.  What do those words say?  Isaac didn't know."

   "It's Hebrew," Josh recalled.  He usually traced the symbols whenever he visited the grave. "It roughly translates to: Music is God's way of praying without words.  It's something from my mother; it actually means more than that, but that's the gist of it.  My sister loved music the way my mother does; it was their thing."

    Donna looked at his expression, the one he wore when he was trying to sound casual but that was a mask for the old pain that would never go away.  Donna was suddenly sorry they had come to the town and was mad at herself for nothing thinking this through more.  There was more than the lack of activity that kept Josh away from this place.  There were memories he did not care to have dwelling there as well.  She realized that the current ailments in her marriage were not going to be fixed by taking a trip into Josh's past.  She knew him, knew more about him that most people.  There was no secret to uncover about him.  There was just Josh, and all his quirks and all his annoyances and all his hang-ups.  That she did not like some of his traits and could only stand several others with extreme patience was something she had to accept or a rocky and uncertain road lay in front of the couple.  With a deep pang of regret, she gently caressed his cheek then kissed him softly.

   "We can leave first thing in the morning," she said.

Up next: Chapter 11 --  Horatio