The room was dark. The lights on the walls were dimmed and cast a cozy light in the room. The dark wood paneling, as well as the large, heavy, dark red armchairs created a pleasant atmosphere. The center of the room was decorated with a large, round table, also made of dark wood, around which the armchairs were arranged in a circle. Impressed, she let her eyes wander through the room. First her gaze grazed the six armchairs, then the table already set with china, silver arrangements and crystal glasses, and then lingered on the large crown udder decorated with glittering glass crystals. "Wow!" she breathed. She felt him smile kindly, almost proudly, and look at her from the side with shining eyes. "I'm glad you like it." Now she turned her head and looked at him. On her face for the first time in ages an honest and genuine smile. It did good to watch her trying to spread her wings every now and then to get back to her old self.

"You said you had some more bad news for me..." She was standing in front of the table now, letting her long, elegant and delicate hands wander over the tabletop as she eyed him uncertainly. He had to clear his throat, having been lost in thought, not noticing that she had stepped into the room away from his side. "Right." He slowly took a step toward her. "I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Dalten will not be joining us for dinner. There were items added to the agenda at some important meeting... I didn't quite catch Russell's drift." He waved his hand away. "Never mind. To cut to the chase. He told me to tell you that he'll make every effort to join us later this evening." She nodded devoutly. She had told Nadine that she would only contact her in the event of an emergency and had issued an incredible number of powers of attorney for the evening. Everything, in the hope to be able to be Elizabeth one night and not the Secretary of State. As President, that proved to be a bit more difficult.

Lost in thought, she let her fingertips glide over the backs of the chairs as she slowly walked around the magnificently set table. More and more small details, such as the folded napkins with gold edges and the small name plates on which names were written in gold letters, caught her eye.

Ms. Isabelle Barnes

She had looked forward to the evening for so long, it had been the one bright spot, it had kept her going, given her a reason to fight. And it had been the only thing she had consoled herself with. The divorce had gone through the courts and been officially announced by Daisy, the press had followed her not only in her daily routine at the State Department or the White House, even standing outside her front door and now at the moment probably outside the restaurant where they would all meet here in the back room and for one evening forget everything else. They would talk about old times, tell each other stories, and laugh. Just like they used to. Or at least almost, now just without Andrew.

Mrs. Juliet Humphrey

She wouldn't think about Andrew tonight, not about what he had done the last night they had been 'husband and wife', not about the fact that she hadn't slept a wink since then, her panic attacks had only gotten worse, and that her stomach was practically only held together by the bandage as her cuts had grown more desperate, deeper, larger and more frequent as she hadn't known any other way to help herself.

Mr. Michael Barow

But they would ask. Maybe not, Isabelle, Mike and Conrad, but the others. She would answer, tell them what they wanted to hear, and then excuse herself to go to the washroom. Then, and with the alcohol, she would be able to relax again and enjoy the evening.

Ms. Elizabeth Adams

She stopped for a moment and looked at her name tag. Not only was Ms. still unfamiliar to her, but she hadn't read the name Adams after her name in a long time. Unwillingly, she had to think directly of her parents. She missed them. Every day. Every hour. When she had watched Andrew go to his parents after the pronouncement in court and they had all hugged each other, a deep sadness and anger had gripped her. Unjustly, she had yelled at Isabelle then, who, completely perplexed, had blamed her violent emotional reaction on her appointment with Andrew at court and counsel. She had envied, and still envied, the family he had and she did not. She had been alone. Had to deal with the situation alone. Will had called her every day, had talked to her, had inquired how she was doing. But he was on the other side of the world saving the world.

Feeling the silent tears on her cheek, she swallowed. How she wished she could hold her parents one last time. For a moment, she let the grief overwhelm her and the tears flow before she stood back up and brushed the tears from her eyes with her thumb.

Slowly, she continued her walk around the table.

Mr. Conrad Dalten

She now had her palm resting on the arm of the chair, tapping her fingers against the backrest reverently. She owed so much to this man. Stubbornly, the rumor had persisted that they both had or were having an affair. Bess had to grin. It had been so many years ago. Back when her parents had passed away, he had been by her side. She owed Conrad a lot, so much. He had always supported her, even when their relationship had broken up, had always been there for her, had helped her, and had finally given her professional training. He had brought her to the CIA, trained her and then at some point ordered her to his side as Secretary of State. A smile flitted across her lips as she thought of the time that had passed. Her thoughts jumped from the then shy boy with blond curls to the President of the United States of America. How she wished she could sit next to him later. Maybe the opportunity would arise and she could ask him something that had been burning on her tongue for more than 15 years. She sighed and went on her way.

Mr. Henry McCord.

She scrunched her eyebrows together and raised her head in wonder. "Blake?" It wasn't two seconds before his head popped up in the doorway. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Tell me, why is Dr. McCord on the list?" Blake looked down at the papers in his hand, befuddled, and tucked them under his left arm before speaking. "Um, Mr. Barnow mentioned that they would welcome his presence." She tilted her head and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. She was about to lecture him about how she was his boss and not Mike B. when he stuck his head in the door. So she just nodded to Blake and dismissed him that way, not noticing how Blake wanted to draw her attention to something, but then obediently left the room while she turned her gaze to Mike and greeted him. "Mike B., the new boss of the State Department".

"How, did they depose you for making too much press? Or how do I get that honor." He raised his arms defensively, "Sorry. I take it back. That was a little too far below the belt." "I was just going to say it." "I know, I know." "Say, why do I have the honor?"

"Oh, just because. I thought maybe you needed some more support." He eyed the room, then her. "Heavens, what do you look like, anyway?" "Oh, that. I was just thinking about my parents..." She wiped at her makeup-smeared eyes. "Whatever." Mike interrupted her, then looked at her expectantly. "How can I help you? You have to put on makeup again and" he looked down at her. "maybe put on something else too, huh?" Bess punished his sarcastic remark with a not-quite-serious scowl. "However, you can help me. You can explain to me what Mr. Dr. McCord is looking for on the guest list, please. I mean, yes, he used to work with us, but in case you don't remember, there was an agreement." Mike looked at her with amusement. "You mean you two were banned from working together because..." She hurriedly raised her hand, interrupting him. "I don't want to hear a word you have to say about that. I respected his and his wife's wish and fired him. Besides, that was decades ago. So what is he doing here?"

"His wife and he divorced two years ago and," Mike lowered his voice, "since it didn't work out with us for a variety of reasons, I thought..." "You thought. That's already been the first mistake, Mike." She looked hurriedly at her watch on her wrist and then back at Mike. "I've got to get going now. As you've already correctly pointed out, I still have to get ready. And about this business of who's boss of whom, let's talk again." With that, she stepped resolutely past him and was almost out of the room when Mike turned to her and called her name. "Bess?" She stopped and turned to him again. "What?"

"Give him another chance."