21. The Shortest Distance Between Friends
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
"Morning, Son," Rod exclaimed.
Cooper looked up from his desk with a smile. "Hey, Dad. How was the flight?"
"Bumpy. Get your paper finished last night?"
"Yes, sir," Cooper nodded. "Dad, did you meet Laura, the President's personal secretary, the other night?" he asked.
"I didn't." Rod walked over to the adjacent desk where a smiling young Asian-American woman sat. "I'm the 'Old Man,'" he said with a wink while extending his hand to her. "Rod Calloway."
"Laura Allred," she answered shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Judge."
"He staying out of trouble," he asked her gesturing with his head towards Cooper, who wore the sheepish face of a kid busted for breaking curfew.
"Dad…."
"Well, is he?" he pressed with a smile.
Laura smiled. "On most days."
"At least he's the easy Calloway twin."
Laura laughed.
"Speaking of Becca," Rod walked back to Cooper's desk and pulled a hastily wrapped gift from his briefcase. "This is for you."
"Thanks," Cooper replied as he quickly tore open the paper to find a T-shirt with "The Bahamas" and a map of the islands across the front.
"Turn it over," Rod told him with a smirk.
Cooper did so and read aloud, "My beautiful twin visited paradise but all I got was this stupid shirt."
They all laughed.
"She was happy about the day at the spa," Cooper added.
"Happy to have me out of the way so she could have free rein with my credit card," Rod replied sardonically.
"Uh oh," Mac interrupted from the doorway to the Oval Office. "Still haven't learned not to leave women alone with the plastic, huh? And my father had such high hopes for you." She shook her head with a smile. "Although I guess in this case the fault is mine."
"Obviously I still have the word 'SUCKER' tattooed across my forehead when it comes to all the women in my life," he acknowledged with a slight bow and a corresponding grin.
"Thank heavens!" Mac exclaimed walking towards him. "Hey," she said more softly as she stopped directly in front of him.
"Hey, yourself." He kissed her on the cheek.
"You got some sun. Looks good," she told him with a tap on his nose.
"Told you, not a cloud in the sky on Sunday," he reminded her. "So much for the efficiency of this Administration's weather team."
"You want to apply for the job?" she asked with a coy smile as their eyes locked.
"What do you think?"
"Excuse me, Judge Calloway, Madam President."
"What is it, Jim?" Mac asked her Chief of Staff as they turned around.
"They're ready for us on the conference call downstairs.
She nodded with a small groan and looked helplessly at Rod. "I'm sorry. New unrest in Gaza and the Golan Heights."
"Then you better get to it."
"It may take a while."
"Mackenzie, go. I'm early and it is, after all, a work day."
"Do you want to wait here?" she asked. "Would you prefer upstairs? Or my private study? How about breakfast? You probably didn't…."
"Madam President," he told her with amused insistence, "I'm fine. Go."
"Okay," she smiled back. She looked at Jim. "Let's get this done."
XXXXXXXXXX
Mac finished her last phone appointment as the motorcade pulled onto the back driveway after the funeral. She handed the phone to Cooper and looked at her watch: 1:30 p.m. Wow, she thought. She'd just turned two hours worth of face-to-face meetings into twenty minutes on the phone. She'd have to utilize this tool more often.
She felt Rod's eyes on her and looked up.
"Is it always like this?" he asked.
"So it seems."
"Lucky you."
She returned his smile. "Lucky me."
As the car stopped in front of the South Portico, Mac said, "Home, Sweet Home." Then seeing his reaction, she added, "I know. It's absurd. But…."
"It is what it is," he finished with a grin.
"Exactly. And the service can't be beat. Thanks, Jeffrey," she said to Agent Rivers as he held her door and she stepped out of the limousine once they'd stopped. She'd discreetly asked that he accompany her today because Rod was familiar with him. At his suggestion Jessica Jenkins had also been added to her personal detail.
"Are you going to eat with us?" Mac asked Cooper when he got out of the car after his father.
"Would it be okay if I studied instead?"
"Of course. I forgot about your test," she told him. "Use the Library where nobody will bug you. I won't need anything for a few hours."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll have someone bring you lunch. What do you want?"
Cooper shrugged. "Whatever you're having. Thanks."
He looked over at his father, who was examining the support cables attached to one of the two magnolia trees that were beginning to bloom on the west side of the portico. "What time do you leave Dad?"
Rod looked at his watch. "Flight leaves at 4:30 p.m. Not sure how long I'll be here but I'll find you before I go."
"Okay." He headed off to the West Wing to get his books.
"He's such a great kid," Mac said joining his father under the tree.
"Especially when he's asleep," Rod replied with a smile.
Mac chuckled and with a sparkle in her eyes commented, "He's a lot like you in that, too. Can fall asleep anywhere instantly."
"A blessing and a curse depending on time and place."
"Mostly a blessing," she suggested.
"Yeah," he acknowledged. "These are amazing trees. How old are they?"
"Precisely?" she asked. "I'm not sure. Cooper could probably tell us. He's become a walking encyclopedia on White House history. Eighteen-thirty something. Harry Truman planted the ones on the east side after the balcony was added to the portico. These were planted by Andrew Jackson in honor of his wife, Rachel, who died a few months before he took office." Instantly she regretted her final words. She had no desire to talk with him about dead wives today—or ever for that matter. Changing the subject she asked, "Where would you like to eat?"
"Are you sure you have time?" He asked. "You've got a lot going on. I can easily get something downtown and then go to the airport."
"Rod, you are my schedule for the next couple of hours," she insisted. "We can call it work if you want. You know, the President consulting with the federal judiciary."
He grinned. "Oh, I think we can find more interesting matters to discuss, don't you?"
Of that, she had no doubt. From the earliest days of their relationship they'd talked, debated, shared and laughed with ease for hours at a time. With acute nostalgia she remembered the little glass jar that contained all kinds of questions on little slips of paper that he'd brought to their first official dinner together. They really hadn't needed it. However, it made getting to know one another so much more fun. But then, he made everything more fun—even funerals. "Conversation has never been a problem between us, has it?"
"No, it hasn't," he agreed. "With a few exceptions." One of those exceptions had always been her past relationships, and particularly the man who broke her heart. What was his name? He asked himself. David, wasn't it? Isn't that what she'd recently told him? He sighed inaudibly. She hadn't understood when they'd been together that what had happened with him was a blessing. What about now? He wondered.
"It's always been one of the things I love most about being with you." She recognized now what she'd failed to then. With him she was safe. It mattered not to him whether she was "Mackenzie," "Mac Allen," "Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Law Journal," or "Madam President." He knew the woman inside, and accepted her—warts and all. This alone, given their past, was more than she had a right to demand from him at present. But she loved him with all her heart and she would never stop hoping that he would again come to love her, too.
"Me, too," he agreed huskily as their eyes locked.
The connection between them was so strong she had to make a deliberate effort to breathe. How could he not see what she saw? Feel what she felt? She took another breath. How could she make him see? Feel? She realized with a sudden clarity that she couldn't. This was one situation completely outside her control. She was the passenger, not the driver, the proverbial Indian and not his Chief. She sighed. For a self-acknowledged control freak it was torture. But what could she do? Except deal with it and then find an outlet for her frustration. "The weather's perfect. I thought lunch outside would be nice. Maybe the patio outside my office?"
He smiled. As President, she was accustomed to being in charge all the time and to people immediately falling in line with her chosen desires. It was too great a temptation to resist. "Out of curiosity, what would you say if I told you I preferred somewhere else?"
"Do you?" she questioned earnestly.
"That wasn't my question."
"Excuse me, Your Honor," she said with a mock show of deference. "I forget the Court prefers to speak in hypothetical."
He laughed.
"Roderic," she said softly walking towards him. She couldn't help herself. After hours of being in close proximity to him, she ached to touch him.
The velvet tone of her voice and the way she looked at him practically made him quiver. Her physical effect on him had not dissipated. However, he couldn't go back to before. He couldn't view their breakup as the tragedy she believed it to be. He wasn't exactly sure how she felt about him today, she'd never really said. Not that it made any difference. He only hoped that she understood. More than anything he wanted his presence in her life to be good for her. He would do anything in his power to make it that way, and then hope that it was enough. That he was enough. He felt a tug on his tie and looked down.
"Hey," she said when their eyes met. "I totally lost you. Where'd you go?"
"Lost in thought, I guess," he replied with a surprising flush that unknowingly made his companion fall deeper in love.
"Back out on the boat?" she gently prodded.
"No. Just completely overwhelmed. You win the race for history's most beautiful leader of the free world by a landslide."
"I don't know," she teased back. "That's some stiff competition. Washington with his false teeth and the personal warmth of a glacier, Lincoln with his beard and depressing nature, and Jefferson with his prissy, French couture—not to mention Taft, who got stuck in the bathtub."
He grinned before turning immediately serious. Reaching out to tuck her nearly shoulder length, auburn hair behind one ear he told her, "You are beautiful. And you were marvelous today."
"You mean we were," she insisted with an involuntary blush of her own.
"No," he shook his head and tucked his chin. "You. During the entire thing I had to check myself for inappropriate smiles. Other than those few minutes with the press after church, this was my first opportunity to observe you firsthand as President of the United States. I was so proud watching you up there, and the Admiral would have been busting out of his uniform watching his daughter do what she was meant to do."
"Thank you," she said with a soft, almost shy smile. "I'm relieved it's over. This one had me on edge. Thanks for being there. Thanks for everything. Your words were perfect. I felt like every single one was deliberately chosen with me in mind."
He lightly traced his fingers down one cheekbone that was still a most appealing shade of pink. "Each one was chosen with you in mind. It couldn't be any other way."
"It was incredible. Something I've never experienced before. I honestly felt that they'd come from me."
"I'm glad. I can't get over how good you were up there. I mean you are always way above the curve but today…. Wow."
She felt the heat again flush across her face and for a moment she was twenty-five again. Only today, she understood so much more about him and the inherent grace of his soul. "It was you. All you. It made such a difference to look down and see your face, and feel your support and encouragement." Her voice cracked slightly. She was finding it so hard not to wrap her arms around him and lay her cheek against his strong, steady heart. Instead she resorted to dry, deflecting humor. "I guess we'll have to add 'Czar of Depressing Speeches and Eulogies' to your job descriptions."
He smiled. She liked to believe she was an emotional island. But he knew better. Nonetheless, he played along. "I don't know," he mimicked with a contemplative shake of the head. "That sounds like one title too many. I probably better stick with…."
"Secretary of Hugging?" she asked hopefully.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, you know what they say about a hug."
"What?" he asked indulgently as another smile began to crease his face.
"That it's the shortest distance between friends."
"Come here," he said, his voice uneven.
Without hesitation she closed the short distance between them and immediately his arms imprisoned her tightly against him. Glad she'd opted against wearing high heels this morning, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his heart. She loved his heart.
Rod felt her sigh against him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to exercise self-control. He'd forgotten how good it felt to have her in his arms, her head resting high on his chest. He bent forward and kissed the top of her head as he continued to hold her.
"You better watch out," she whispered. "I may never let you go."
"I'm not going anywhere," he quietly assured her as one hand stroked her hair. "For as long as you want or need me. For as long as I'm good for you." He gently forced her slightly away so he could see into her face. "But Mackenzie," he added with a slight break in his voice, "make sure that it is good for you because I'm too selfish to judge for myself."
"You don't have a selfish bone in your body," she said looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You never have. And you could never be anything but good for me. I'm only sorry I didn't understand that before."
"Mackenz…."
She put a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything."
He nodded before kissing her forehead. "Ready for lunch outside by your office?"
She shook her head. "I've got a better idea. Let's have them set up a table right here."
"Here?" He looked at her in surprise.
"Uh huh," she nodded. "It's perfect." And much more intimate, she thought.
He looked around. They were standing on a little stone patio with a wrought iron bench and big, clay pots that would no doubt be filled with flowers in a few weeks. "Lunch under Old Hickory's magnolias, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"I wonder why he didn't plant hickory trees instead?"
"Probably because he was contemplating the love of his life. What woman wants to be honored with a hickory tree? Where's the romance and poetry in that?"
He laughed. "You're probably right about that…. Memo to self: no paying tribute to women with hickory trees."
"Definitely something to keep in mind," she agreed with a smile. "I'm going to let Mr. Waverly know about our plan for lunch. I'll be right back."
He nodded. "I'm going to take a short walk. After all that sitting on the plane and during the service, I'd love to stretch my legs a little. Do you mind?"
"Of course, not. But you might want to lose the jacket and tie. I think I might quickly change out of this depressing suit."
"It may be appropriately plain, but you look great in it," he said taking off his jacket and tie while looking her over yet again.
"Thank you."
"I won't be long."
"Good. Neither will I." She had no intention of wasting a single minute with him, if she could help it.
XXXXXXXXXX
As it turned out, she couldn't help it. She was delayed by Nora, who rattled on and on about some mishap or other involving eggs that were the wrong color for the Easter Egg Roll.
Why couldn't mother be in town today? She thought impatiently as she walked through the Palm Room and back outside. At least Mr. Waverly is capable of doing his job, she quietly muttered as she noticed the little table that had been beautifully set under the magnolia trees. Now all that was missing was her man. She stepped out onto the driveway to see if she could catch a glimpse of him wandering about the yard. Of course, she could ask one of the agents for assistance.
"Hey," she heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind. She turned around and found him casually sitting half way up the portico steps, his shirt sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, and looking like he hadn't a care in the world.
"I'm sorry," she told him as she walked towards him.
"For what?" he asked, scooting over to one side and patting the step in front of him.
"For taking so long," she replied joining him. She'd changed into a cadet blue gabardine pants suit with a yellow and blue striped blouse that was far more comfortable than the stiff, formal black skirt and jacket she'd worn to the funeral.
"Trouble?" he questioned. "Look, I know what is required of you. If you need to get back to work, go. I understand."
"I know you do," she responded while turning to look at him more directly. "You've always understood—better than anyone, except perhaps my father. But this was nuisance stuff. Grace Bridges' Chief of Staff completely unglued about the Easter Egg Roll. She is wholly incapable it seems of making even the smallest decision." She sighed. "I need a wife."
He laughed. "They want you to play First Lady, too, huh?"
"If you only knew," she said rolling her eyes.
"Thanks, but I'd rather remain in blissful ignorance."
She looked at him close and realized he wasn't teasing. "You hate this, don't you?"
"This?" He repeated while gesturing towards the vista that lay before them, which included the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. "This is incredible."
"Rod…"
"Oh, you mean the dog and pony show you headline?"
She nodded. "That's one way to put it. That, or 'Circus Animals on Parade.' You haven't answered my question, though."
"Hate is a strong word. But you're right. This isn't something I desire. I'm surprised you weren't attacked by the White House Press Corps when we got back like you were on the way out."
"I blocked their access. I wasn't about to subject you to it a second time today."
"Mac…."
"I know. You're a big boy," she told him lightly. "But still…. Besides occasionally they need to be made to remember their place."
"In that case, thank you," he said graciously.
"I am curious about something. You always loved politics and all its games. What changed your mind?"
"Life, I guess… and my family. It wasn't worth the personal costs or sacrificing their happiness and well-being for my ambitions. And now, I have no desire…"
"Does it have to be that way? That the two are mutually exclusive?"
"I don't know." He met her gaze and held it. "Why did you run for Congress? You never had any interest in that when we were together?"
"It certainly wasn't planned," she admitted. "Came out of the blue. I was totally shocked when some local party bigwigs asked me. Even then, I had no intention of doing it."
He cocked his head. "What changed your mind?"
"Not what…. Who."
"The Admiral?"
She nodded. "He was firm about it. Said I had no choice."
"He was right, you know?"
"I know," she quietly acknowledged. "You would have told me the same thing if we were together, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. Looking into her eyes, he told her, "This is who you were born to be. Michael told me all those years ago that you were destined for greatness. I've never doubted it."
Mac felt such a tangible warmth pour over her body and soul that she was temporarily unable to speak. Finally, after a long moment she said, "You're right about the view. It may be the best thing about my job. Well, other than the airplane and helicopter."
He smiled. "Seems like Junior isn't the only one around here with a fetish for cool modes of transportation."
"What can I say? It's addicting. Ready to eat?"
"You read my mind."
"Like that's hard when food is involved. Come on," she said standing.
XXXXXXXXXX
Together they walked the ten feet or so to the patio between the Jackson trees. He helped her remove her jacket and it joined his coat and tie on the adjacent white bench. No sooner had they sat down than a steward appeared with soup, salad and bread.
"I thought we'd keep lunch light so we can save some room for dessert. The pastry chef here is unbelievable." A sweet tooth was something they'd always shared.
"Perfect," he agreed. "This looks delicious."
Without hesitation they each attacked their meal in comfortable silence until Mac put down her fork and said, "I checked out that Supreme Court case from your email. You knew I would."
He nodded.
"Brown vs. the Board of Education. Why did you only leave the citation?"
"To make you curious."
She smiled. Somehow from the moment they'd met he'd understood her fundamental need to respond when challenged. "You know, it reminded me of our first date, or are we considering that initial dinner on the day we met a date?"
"You tell me."
"Our second date, then," she decided. "And our first kiss. Not just one if my memory is correct."
"No, not just one."
She moved her dishes to the side and leaned forward on the table. "How did you come up with that very creative approach of using citations for cases with our names to ask me out? You'd only been in law school a few days."
He shrugged. "It just came to me. Seeing you sitting so cozily with Stanton in the library brought out my A-game, I guess."
"You were jealous?" She asked in disbelief. He'd never given any indication of such emotions that she could recall.
"Of course, I was jealous. I was jealous as hell… and determined."
"Determined?"
"To win you over."
"Don't you know? You already had. As I recall, even while sitting across from Mike that afternoon, I only had eyes for you," she told him. And I still do, she added silently to herself.
"Yeah," he acknowledged with a sigh. "Those were good days."
"Yes, they were," she agreed with a sigh of her own as she looked into his eyes and tried without words to convey the message that it could again be like that between them. But when it became clear he had no answer for her, she went back to her original thought.
"I looked up the case history."
"And what did you find?"
"A lot of important information I'd either forgotten or hadn't known. Specifically that Chief Justice Fred Vinson had ordered re-argument of the case and then died unexpectedly; and that it is common belief that before his death the Court would have voted 5-4 against striking down Plessy v. Ferguson and the doctrine of separate but equal. But that under the leadership of the new Chief, Earl Warren, the Court unanimously held that segregation based on race to be unconstitutional."
He smiled. "It's a fascinating case. A watershed in the Court's history."
"A watershed for us all. Without it, we'd likely be decades behind where we are in civil rights. Thanks for the gentle reminder of what is potentially at stake."
He nodded and with a wink replied, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world…."
"Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has," she finished with a smile. "Margaret Mead."
He laughed. "Point for you."
"Coming from the Jedi Word Master that is high praise."
He groaned and shook his head. "Not another title?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Too bad the Founding Fathers didn't give you the power to make me a knight. I hear that title comes with some cool perks. Junior would love those."
"Yes, he would. Sir Roderic Gabriel Calloway? Does have a nice ring to it." She shook her head. "Sorry. Would be most undemocratic. You'll just have to be content with serving at the pleasure of the President."
"And it is a pleasure," he replied using the same words she'd used with him the other night.
"Given my past mistakes, I don't deserve it. But…"
"I don't want to hear any more of that," he interjected with a shake of his head. More kindly he added, "We all make mistakes. I never expected you to be perfect. And you shouldn't expect it of yourself."
"You're right," she answered with an audible sigh before they both momentarily looked away. "Roderic?"
He looked up as she searched him out.
"I want to be good for you, too," she said softly.
"Tell me about David."
"David?" she sputtered.
He nodded. "That is his name—the man before me who broke your heart. Isn't that what you told me?"
"Yes," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. She'd never shared the specifics of what happened with anyone. Not even her mother. "Why would you want? It was over long before you and…"
"Mackenzie," he gently interrupted as he reached across the table and took her hand. "I saw the fear and devastation in your eyes that night I told you I loved you; and later your tear stained cheeks and the way you clung to the edge of the bed and my pillow like a life preserver. It killed me seeing you that way. But nothing I did or tried made a difference. You would never open up and let me in. It seems to me that he played as big a part in our relationship as Mike Stanton. Don't you think it's time we talked about him?"
Mac had to look away. As he spoke, all of it came back: The devastation, uncertainty, and shame. What David had done to her, and how he'd dictated her responses to this man at her side. She felt his thumb tenderly caress the base of her palm, and her eyes were compelled down to their intertwined hands. Suddenly she recalled that when he'd first said those magical words he'd been holding her hand much the same way. She doubted he was aware of it. He couldn't be. If only she could hear those words from him again. "Don't shut me out," she heard him plead. "Not again."
She looked up into his face. After a time she said, "I guess it's time, isn't it?"
"Yes."
She inhaled as much air as her lungs could take and then slowly released it. "His name is David. We met suddenly and unexpectedly my first full day in Jerusalem. He's from England. His family is wealthy and titled. Immediately we became inseparable. I was worried about the vast differences in our backgrounds. He repeatedly insisted that none of that mattered and that we were fated to be together. Eventually we made love. He was my first. Six months later—right before we parted for six weeks—we became engaged. I got back a couple of days before he did, and was waiting for him at the apartment—his apartment—with a romantic dinner planned. But when he came, he wasn't alone. He brought a wife back with him. His childhood sweetheart. I knew nothing about her and I don't think she knew anything about me. He introduced me as a 'good friend.' Told me that we were too different. That was it. Afterwards, day after day, we went to school together. Day after day, I had to see the pity in the eyes of our classmates."
"That explains so much," he said, once he'd processed the significance of her words. "And you thought I was like him?"
"No," she shook her head.
"Mac," he insisted. "I'm not blind to the similarities between us."
"At first I did," she conceded. "I wasn't seeing clearly. He led my on and lied to me. And I still don't understand why. What did she have that I don't? I'm smart, personable, and at least passably pretty. I was willing to give up everything for him. I would have made a great diplomat's wife." She sighed. "So many unanswered questions."
"I see," he said removing his hand from hers and leaning back in his chair. More than you, he added silently.
"What do you see?"
He shrugged. "He was a jerk. I'm sorry for what you went through."
"You don't blame me?"
"For what?"
"For not telling you. For letting it come between us."
"It is what it is, Mac. We can't go back. You handled it the best way you could see at the time."
"I'm not the same person now."
"Neither of us are," he told her with a deep sigh. "Which brings us to the present. About this weekend?"
"Yes?"
"I've arranged for Easter brunch at the hotel at noon. I thought we'd attend the ten o'clock service at St. John's first. We'd love to have you join us. I'd really like you to meet Becca. But if you can't or don't want to, I understand."
She leaned forwards, elbows on the table. "Don't want to? Why would you ever think I wouldn't want to be with you, and your family?"
"Well, my in-laws will be here. The other night it seemed like you didn't want…. Look, it's okay."
"Rod, I was surprised. That's all. I didn't expect after so long…. Why do you still call them your in-laws?"
"Because that's who they are," he told her.
"You're still that close?" She could scarcely imagine it.
"I don't think you understand. They—especially Anne—made it possible for me to have a career. She was there after school when I couldn't be, helped drive their carpools, practiced the piano with them, went shopping with Becca. They were always great about attending school programs and ball games. Whatever I needed, they did."
"But the twins have been gone for almost two years. You still see them regularly?"
"Almost every day. They live across the street. They're family."
"Wow," she exclaimed sitting back as his words sunk in. "I knew you stayed in Atlanta so the twins could be close to Lauren's family. I just never expected…. I probably should have. Do they know about us? I mean our history together."
"They know we dated law school. Obviously they know we've been spending time together—that we're friends again."
"And they're okay with it?"
He cocked his head with a furrowed brow. "Why wouldn't they be?"
"You were married to their daughter, and I'm another woman. It must be difficult…."
He smiled. "Mackenzie, they're not like that at all. They're terrific, warm people. I think you'll like them."
"Tell me about them. Their names are William and Anne? When I met Cooper he mentioned being named after both of his grandfathers."
"That's right. Murphy is their last name. Their story together is remarkable. Anne came from a very wealthy but very Catholic family. William spent most of his childhood in various foster homes. But he was very smart and enterprising. Anyway, they fell in love at fifteen. She got pregnant with Lauren at sixteen. Her family wanted her to quit seeing him and give the baby of for adoption. She refused and they disowned her."
"You're kidding? How could her parents? What did they do?"
"Struggled, I suppose. But they never gave up on each other, or their love for each other. Somehow they both managed to graduate from high school and William got a job working as a runner for the Atlanta Braves. He managed to catch the attention of the team's owner, who put him through university and taught him everything he knew about business and baseball. He's never worked anywhere else, and eventually became General Manager. It took time but finally her family came around."
"He's still working?"
He nodded. "He's no longer General Manager but Vice-President of Baseball Operations. He'll probably hit you up about throwing out the first pitch in Atlanta next year."
She laughed. "He may want to wait and see how I do this year. Besides I may only be a former president next year."
"Not you," he said with conviction. "You will continue to make history."
"You're that sure of voters?"
"I'm that sure of you."
She smiled. "Despite the insanity and absurdity of my lifestyle?"
"Despite everything," he told her as right on cue the stewards removed their lunch plates and replaced them with dessert. "Napoleon?" he asked looking down at the rectangular layered pastry with cream filling and a thin layer of chocolate on top.
She nodded. "It's incredible. Of course, the white chocolate—raspberry truffle cheesecake is addicting, too."
"Next time," he suggested as he took his first bite. "Or maybe not. This is amazing."
"I know. All the more reason to exercise hard every day," she exclaimed before taking another bite.
"Mac?" he asked a few minutes later.
She looked up.
"You'll join us at church and for brunch on Sunday?"
"I'd love to," she replied. "But why don't we eat here instead."
He shook his head. "No, this is my responsibility. I'm not going to pass it off onto you."
"I'd love to do it—well, the chefs would love to do it."
"Thank you. But I'd feel better about doing it at the hotel. I didn't invite you to get you to play hostess. You're my guest."
"Can I at least have the chefs do dessert for us all? You know they're going to want a tour of the place."
He looked down at his empty dessert plate and smiled. "Sounds like a plan." He looked at his watch. "How about playing catch for a few minutes before I leave and you get back to being President?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
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Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Mac walked into the Oval Office the following morning and immediately heard loud voices coming from the outer office. She couldn't make out much of what was being said, but she distinctly heard something about "father" and "President." Curiosity piqued, she exited out the opposite door and walked around to the other side of the outer office.
"Come on, Cooper," Kelly said, her tone deliberately flirtatious, "It's just us. We won't tell anyone."
"Of course, not," Vince added. "Right, Laura?"
"Absolutely not. Top secret."
"There's nothing to tell," Cooper insisted.
"He was here all weekend, and back again yesterday. You don't honestly expect us to believe that there's nothing going on between them?" Kelly pressed. "We saw how they were together Friday night. They completely disappeared during the movie."
"And yesterday before the funeral you could cut have cut the sexual tension between them with a knife," Laura added.
"They're friends," Cooper responded, his voice rising to a slightly higher decibel. "He's helping her get ready to throw out the first pitch, and he came to the funeral to show his respects. He's a judge. It's no big deal."
"Would you tell us if something were going on?" Vince asked.
Cooper shook his head. "No way…. But there's not."
"Are you afraid of the boss? How she'd react?" Vince asked further.
"Are you kidding me?" he smirked. "All she can do is fire me. Now my Dad…"
"Then there is something going on," Kelly insisted.
Mac had heard enough. "Good morning everyone," she exclaimed loudly as she entered the office area. She was pleased to be greeted by shocked, sheepish faces and mumbled words of greeting in return. "Vince, Kelly, do you need me for something?" she asked with a sly wink directed towards Cooper as Laura hurriedly busied herself at her own desk.
"Uh…. No, ma'am," they said at the same time.
"Okay," she told them. "Well, you know where to find me if you do need anything." She turned to Cooper, who seemed to be enjoying her little performance and the reactions it was creating, "Do you have today's schedule?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said swallowing a smile. "Here you go."
"Thank you," Mac replied breezily as she walked back into the Oval. "See you all later."
She sat down at her desk with a chuckle. However, she knew it was only a matter of time before real speculation—public speculation—began. What would that do to their relationship? He hated that part of her job and all of the baggage that came along with it. In the end it all came down to what was more important: her or his privacy. She was afraid of the answer. Was it possible for him to have both?
She was still deep in thought when she heard a knock. "Come in," she called out.
"Good morning, Ma'am," her Chief of Staff declared.
"Morning, Jim. What can I do for you?"
He sat down across the desk. "I need to know how you want us to handle an issue that's come up."
"What issue?"
"Judge Calloway."
"Judge Calloway is an issue? What kind of an issue?"
"Well, the press corps is still after Kelly about being blocked from covering your return from the funeral yesterday. And they… and others want to know how about his presence with you yesterday. How do you want us to handle it?"
"First of all, I could care less that the press corps got their feelings hurt. I've given them more time and access than any president in recent memory."
"They're not the only ones asking questions."
"Who?" She leaned forward elbows on her desk.
"I got a call from Jayne Murray."
"Templeton's Chief of Staff? What did she say?"
"She wanted to know about your relationship, how long you've been involved, etc."
"What did you tell her?"
"That he is Cooper's father, a friend, and a member of the federal judiciary. That's it."
"Good. That's how I want you to handle it. Nothing else."
"Yes, ma'am. But at some point…."
"I know," she conceded with a sigh. "Let's try and put that off for as long as we can. He doesn't deserve the chaos that will erupt around him."
Jim nodded.
"What about you and Ms. Murray?" Mac asked.
"What?"
"Jim," she replied with a smile. "I've seen the way you look at her. Teddy may have tried to keep me out of sight, but I'm not blind or dumb."
"No, ma'am, you're not. We used to have a thing," he acknowledged.
"Until I got in the way?"
"That was part of it."
"A big part, I imagine."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you love her?"
Her question was met with silence. Finally, he said, "Yes, ma'am, I do."
"Then don't let her go."
"Ma'am, that's not…."
"I know," she said again leaning back in her chair. "There's a conflict of interest—or you see it as such. Remember James Carville and Mary Matlin? They managed to work around it. All I'm saying is that you have my trust and my blessing. Don't let pride or fear keep you from the love of your life, if that's what Jayne Murray is. It was the biggest mistake of my life."
"The Judge?"
"Perhaps," she answered with a coy smile. "What's next?"