Note: No, I don't seem to have this thing wrapped up, even now! There's at least one chapter more to come. Or possibly two. . . .

For the sake of this one, I'm going to make a couple of small changes to things I've posted already. I hope no one will mind too much. I'm afraid it's the price of posting before I had everything written. I thought I had it all worked out, of course, but, as you know, this story has grown and grown. . . .

So, Change #1: In an early chapter I said that Chef Gagnon's youngest daughter was 18. I must not have been thinking clearly; she's actually 20 or 21.

And Change #2: I have no idea why I claimed that Josh's mother's room was off the dining room. If you'd just come into the house from the front door-which you'll remember faces the hill behind the lighthouse, not the sea-you'd find yourself in an entryway with the dining room to your right and the kitchen beyond that. On your left is the living room, which is snug by White House standards, but not quite as small as I may have misled people into believing. On the far side of that, at a forty-five degree angle to the house and connecting it to the base of the lighthouse, there used to be a shed where the lighthouse keepers stabled their livestock-a cow and a horse, a pig or two, and some chickens, I suppose. Josh and Donna had the space remodelled, and now it holds a room and bath, which Josh's mother likes to use when she comes to visit. There's a hallway, too, that connects to Josh's office in the base of the lighthouse-though these days he has to share that space, and the tower above, with the Secret Service.

And now, without further ado:

Chapter 28:

The party was in full swing. The little cottage was stuffed to its gills; people were eating standing up or anywhere they could find a place to perch, including windowsills and stairs. The children were all stretched out on the living room floor in front of the fire, playing a board game. They would have been sent upstairs out of the way, but neither Donna or Josh wanted to let Noah out of their sight.

Josh was chatting with Ainsley and C.J. when his phone rang. He answered it, said, "Of course, I told you already," and hung up. "Secret Service," he explained to C.J., who had raised an inquiring eyebrow. "I've already told them everyone I've invited, but they feel they have to check with me every time someone comes to the gate."

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Josh answered it. Glancing over, C.J. saw him greeting a tall young man with snow in his hair. The door was standing wide open and snow was blowing into the house with icy gusts of air, but Josh seemed oblivious: he was talking earnestly, one hand clasping the boy's shoulder, the other still gripping his hand as if he'd forgotten to let go. Looking at her friend and President's face, C.J. saw it so full of emotion that she had to turn away and dab at her eyes with her cocktail napkin.

"Here," Ainsley said, sniffling and pressing a tissue into her hand. "Use this; it's softer." She was wiping at her own eyes vigorously. "If that boy hadn't-" She shook her head and blew her nose so firmly it squeaked.

"Josh, for goodness' sakes," Donna's voice called from the dining room. "Shut that-oh, Joe!" There was a clatter and a crash as the plate she'd been filling for Josh's mother fell to the floor. A moment later she was flinging herself at Joe. Josh stepped aside to let her throw her arms around the man who had stopped Reggie Morton from killing their son.

Joe hugged her back, a little awkwardly at first. She'd been hugging him ever since she'd married Josh-Joe had been an usher at their wedding, when he wasn't quite thirteen-but there hadn't been much occasion for it recently, and Joe was still a little in awe of the idea that his Aunt Donna was now the First Lady. Her emotion melted his reserve, though, and he tightened his arms around her in a great bear hug that helped steady his still-shaking nerves. It seemed to help Donna, too: she wiped her eyes and told him she was going to buy up all the chocolate in town and bake him the biggest batch of brownies he had ever seen or dreamed of-and make sure that Noah, Sally, and Josh didn't touch a single one.

(Joe's fondness for chocolate in general and Donna's brownies in particular was legendary in the Lyman family. He'd once eaten an entire tray of them while talking to her in the lighthouse kitchen, and she'd had to slap his hand and tell him to leave some for the others when he'd started on the second sheet.)

She was still holding onto him tightly when Marie and Claire came tiptoeing down the stairs. Marie's eyes widened when she saw Joe. He caught a glimpse of her over Donna's shoulder, flushed, and looked away.

Donna felt his momentary shift of attention and disentangled herself from the hug.

"Marie, dear," she said, smiling. "And Claire. You know Joe McCarthy, don't you?"

Marie nodded, a touch of pink stealing into her cheeks. "We were in high school together," she said.

Joe looked positively uncomfortable.

"Do you know what a hero he is?" Donna asked, quite aware of his discomfort but choosing to ignore it. "He kept a madman from killing our son today." Her voice shook a little, and she had to smile very brightly to stop herself from crying again.

Claire nodded-they'd all heard the story by now-but Marie exclaimed, "How horrible! What happened?" She stepped toward Joe and put a hand softly on his arm. "How did you stop him, Joe? Are you all right?"

He stepped away from her reach.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's Noah he hurt. And a little girl."

Marie flushed when he pulled away from her touch, but all she said was, "You must be starving. I'll get you something to eat."

Donna gave Joe's arm a last grateful squeeze. "Take that coat off and come into the living room, Joe, dear," she said. "We're eating all over the place tonight."

Everyone got to their feet when Joe came into the room. To his intense embarrassment, they all burst into applause.

000000

Sid arrived a little later with Mariana, Cat, and Tyler. Josh told the agent who called to let them in.

"Don't be ridiculous, man," he said. "What do you think she's done-hidden a bomb in the baby's diaper?"

The agent patted Tyler-the only one he hadn't met before-down carefully, and put them all through the usual electronic scrutiny, but eventually waved them through. The snow was falling more heavily as Sid ushered his charges out of his truck and up the path to the cottage door. Sam, who was standing nearest to it, let them in.

"Oh, what a darling baby!" Donna, Ainsley, Andie, and C.J. all squealed more or less together. They descended on Mariana and Tyler in a pack.

"The little girl's arm is bleeding again," Sid told Josh. Dr. Pierce and Dr. Allen were by Cat's side before she could blink.

"You can take her to my mother's room," Josh said. "It's quiet there."

Andie lifted Tyler out of Mariana's arms. Donna put her arm around the anxious woman's waist and led her after the doctors and her daughter to the small bedroom off the living room, where Josh's mother slept.

Josh's phone rang again. "Of course," he said, with a touch of impatience. "You know you never have to ask about them." Five minutes later Ainsley opened the door to let Betty in, along with her mother. Betty was carrying two black, oblong cases, one large and one small.

"Mom," Joe protested when he saw them.

"Donna called and asked me specially to bring them," Betty told him, setting the bigger case down beside him. "So you just finish that food up and be ready when she wants you."

Joe sighed, put down the fork he'd been toying with, and got up. But he didn't open the case. Instead he carried his barely-touched plate out to the kitchen, put on his coat and boots, and went outside.

Thick snow and a forty-knot wind hit him in the face, but he lowered his head and strode out into the gale. The agent on duty peered after him from his shelter and radioed his colleagues that one of the President's guests had decided to get a little fresh air. They laughed, and shook their heads.

Joe kept walking, his shoulders hunched against the wind.

000000

"She's all right," Donna reminded Mariana. "She'll be perfectly all right. Both the doctors said so-and they're the very best there are. She just got a few bruises and knocked some of the stitches open when she tumbled off that lattice."

"I know," Mariana said quietly. "I know. I just-" Her voice shook. Donna put her arm around her again, and hugged her tightly for a moment.

They had just put Cat into a hot bath. Her arm was newly bandaged. Donna had wrapped it up in plastic wrap, in the hopes of keeping the bandages dry.

"I understand," Donna answered, her own voice shaking. "Believe me, I understand. I'm so sorry Noah did this. She would never have been hurt in the first place if she hadn't been standing next to him, if he'd followed the rules and stayed home the way he was supposed to. Or if he'd just told me he wanted to see her! I would have asked her over in a flash. Asked both of you."

"You're very kind," Mariana said. Donna shook her head and sighed.

"That's not kindness. That's just normal mom-stuff. I'm mortified that I didn't realize they were such good friends, that I never thought to ask her here to play. I thought it was just one of those summer things-but I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention, really. I wanted to sit by myself on the beach and not have to talk to anyone, or think about anything except the sun and the sand and the sound of the waves. . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"It must be very hard," Mariana said, "to have everyone always recognizing you and wanting to talk to you. And always wanting something from you, because of who you are, and who your husband is."

Donna looked at her with surprise.

"That's it exactly! I find it very hard. But then I feel guilty about that, because really, I have nothing to complain about at all. I have everything anybody could possibly want."

"Except privacy," Mariana pointed out. "Or real security. Most people in this country don't have to worry about someone trying to shoot their husband or their son."

Donna bit her lip and nodded, the tears welling up in her eyes.

"You're very understanding," she said. "But then, so many people still do have to worry about those things. There are too many neighborhoods still where mothers go to bed every night and don't know whether their children are out there somewhere-the older ones-being shot at. Or whether something terrible will happen to their little ones on their way to school in the morning, or their way back from it. Or how they're going to put food on the table for them, or keep a roof over their heads. I don't have to worry about any of that."

Mariana nodded.

"That's true," she said. "But your husband is trying to do something about all that. And someone still wanted to shoot his son, when all he's trying to do is good for people-I can't understand it."

"I can't either." The tears were flowing down Donna's cheeks now. "I'll never be able to understand that at all."

"Oh, don't cry!" Mariana begged. "Please don't cry." She hesitated only a moment, then reached for Donna's hand and patted it, as if Donna were her daughter instead of a woman fifteen years older than herself, and the First Lady to boot.

"He's all right," she murmured, reassuringly. "The doctor said so, remember? He's going to be quite all right."

"Thank you!" Donna sobbed. "Thank you."

Mariana reached for a box of tissues and passed it to her. Donna wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"You will stay here with us tonight, won't you?" she asked, when she'd managed to compose herself a little. "We built some cottages last year, so Josh could have meetings here; there's plenty of room. And I can lend you whatever you need in the way of clothes and things. They'll be big on you, but if you don't mind, nobody else will. It's just going to be family. Well, our parents, and friends who are like family to us-and you're one of those now. Please do stay!"

Mariana's eyes went wide. She swallowed, hard.

"You are too kind," she said again. "Much too kind. But I mustn't. Although-perhaps Cat could stay with you? I don't know what else to do with her; she should be in bed soon, and I don't know where the Maxwells are or when I'll hear from them. They haven't been answering my calls."

She'd tried them several times from her cell phone, but hadn't been able to reach either of them yet.

"But what about you? And the baby? You must stay with us, at least for tonight!"

Mariana shook her head, her eyes welling up again.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew-" She sucked in her breath and didn't finish the thought. "I don't want to make trouble for you," she went on, her voice trembling. "Or for the President."

Donna looked at her for a long moment. She thought she was starting to understand.

"Where did you go to school?" she asked, knowing the question seemed to come out of the blue, and watching to see what Mariana's response would be.

Mariana blinked with surprise.

"Brooklyn Latin." There was a touch of pride in her voice.

"Brooklyn Latin?" It was Donna's turn to blink. "That's one of the best schools in New York! You have to write an exam to get in. It's very selective. . . ."

Mariana smiled a little.

"I was a runner-up for valedictorian in my year."

"Then why-?" Donna shook her head. She knew why.

"Come on," she said. "We need to get Cat out of that bath and into some dry clothes. And then you and I are going to have a cup of coffee, and I'm going to tell you about the immigration bill Josh is taking to Congress after the break. . . ."

000000

To be cont'd. . . .

(Please do send feedback. It makes me feel good! And it makes it much easier to keep writing. . . .)