Joshua Tenney exited the courtroom staring absently at a brief in his hand. He was mulling the finer points of an appeal he'd drafted for one of his clients and thinking with resignation of the next few hours he'd have to spend in his office polishing it for submission to the Maryland courts. He was, therefore, completely unprepared for what awaited him in the hallway:
"Counselor. Counselor!" He looked up with a start to find himself facing a furious Susan Margate. Her being a full foot shorter than he was did not, at that moment, make her any less intimidating.
"Ms. Margate? How are you?" he asked tentatively, and was rewarded with a furious glare.
"We're going to talk right now, you son of a bitch."
"What? What are you—"
"Come here." She half-dragged him over to the side of the hallway and stood in front of him, blocking any attempt he might have made to escape. "How dare you try to intimidate any client of mine?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Are you telling me you don't know about the bomb scare Martha Logan got yesterday?"
"Bomb scare?"
"Yes. Her first day out of the White House, an anonymous package showed up in her apartment, planted right in the middle of all her moving boxes. It didn't come through the mail, no one admits to delivering it. No one knows how it got there. The Secret Service called the bomb squad to investigate; fortunately, it wasn't anything serious."
"Well, if it wasn't anything serious, why confront me like this? For that matter, why are you assuming I've got anything to do with it?" His confusion was changing to anger.
"There was a warning enclosed. The first thing we thought of was your clients and I don't mean Charles Logan. I mean the people who hired you on his behalf."
"I don't discuss my clients with anyone, Ms. Margate, and I don't understand why anyone would want to threaten Martha Logan."
"The day she saw her husband she asked for a private conversation with you. She told me what she said to you. As far as I'm concerned that's reason enough to assume you're responsible. You passed that information on, didn't you?"
"I did no such thing."
"Bullshit."
"That's enough." Tenney was getting angrier by the minute. "If you don't believe me, you don't, but I don't have to stand here and listen to this. File a complaint if you want to, and I'll fight the charge, but if you accost me like this again you'll find yourself before a judge and you're not going to like it." He stepped around her and headed on down the hall without looking back.
Halfway down the hall Susan Margate caught up to him again; he had a sudden mental picture of a small Pomeranian nipping at his heels. This time she was more conciliatory: "If it wasn't you, who else could it have been? There wasn't anybody else. Did you tell anyone?"
"Of course not."
She persisted. "No one at all?"
"I said n—" he stopped dead in the middle of the hallway.
"Who?"
"The only person I told," he said reluctantly, "was Charles Logan."
After successfully avoiding publicity and her personal paperwork for nearly two weeks, Martha had been harangued by Angie into sitting down and going through her schedule and her bills. She'd optimistically assumed that after the terrorist attacks and Charles' arrest she would be persona non grata and no organization in its senses would want to work with her; unfortunately, she was more in demand than ever now that her part in bringing down the conspiracy had become known. Hal Gardner's well-meant public praise of her efforts was coming back to haunt her, and she had few kind thoughts for him this morning.
"Mrs. Logan, I need to get in touch with your accountant and your financial advisor. You'll need more money in your account before next month's bills."
"Maybe I should accept some of these speaking engagements. God knows I could use the money." Martha scowled at the little pile of checks and envelopes in front of her. "I'm never going shopping again."
"Well, why don't you? I'm sure you could do it."
"Some of my public appearances in the past weren't all that successful." Martha tried unsuccessfully to shove away the memory of a particularly embarrassing occasion. She'd taken her medication shortly before arriving at the venue where she was supposed to speak and then taken two glasses of wine in a row to calm her nerves. The result had been a rambling mess; fortunately she'd been stopped before she'd become incoherent. Walt Cummings had watched her like a hawk after that. She looked up, met Angie's eyes, and suddenly realized that Angie probably knew exactly what she was referring to. There was no point in keeping up a defense about her past behavior, and suddenly Martha felt incredibly relieved. Angie wasn't going to judge her any more than Aaron would. She smiled and shrugged. "Face it, no one would want me to speak to their group unless they were looking for tabloid entertainment."
"You're wrong there." Angie waved a paperclipped batch of letters. "There are half a dozen organizations here who are willing to pay thousands of dollars to hear you speak. I know you can do this. Things are different now. You're different now. After everything you've been through, is it really such a challenge to stand up and give a speech to a group of people who are dying to hear what you have to say?"
"Well. No." Martha smiled suddenly. "Angie, did you ever speak to General Mason like this?"
"Once in a while, when he was feeling sorry for himself." Angie grinned back. "Hope you didn't mind, Mrs. Logan."
"I don't mind. You're absolutely right. And I wish you'd call me Martha. I'd feel more comfortable with it, and I'm getting to the point where I never want to hear the name Logan again."
"Okay, if you'd like. But in public, you're still 'Mrs. Logan.' That's how the press and the public are going to keep referring to you for the foreseeable future, anyway."
"It's a deal." Martha picked up the invitations lying on the table and leafed through them again. "I don't see why I shouldn't do this, except… but we don't know when that is yet."
"Sorry?"
Martha looked at Angie. "President Gardner asked me to go to Russia with him and his wife as a sort of goodwill ambassador. I told him I'd do it, but he hasn't scheduled the trip yet."
"We'll work around it. If these groups have to reschedule they will. And if they can't, they can't, but once news of your trip hits the press you're going to get a lot more invitations like this. A lot more."
"Do you want to go with me, Angie? I could really use your help."
"I will, Martha, I'd be happy to. But I'll be sure and pack my Tabasco. I went to Russia once when I was working at the Pentagon, and the food was terrible. Ugh." Angie shuddered at the memory. "Cold canned peas at every meal, and I'm not kidding."
Martha laughed. "We'll hope they lay on something better for the President's entourage." She was suddenly reminded of Aaron as she said it, and looked worried. "I know Aaron's not going to be happy about this trip. I'm not looking forward to telling him."
"I know he won't like it, but it's your decision to make and it's his job to work around it. I told him that the day he checked out the apartment with us—" Angie stopped speaking abruptly.
"He's talked to you? I wouldn't be surprised if he had. You've known him a lot longer than I have. In some ways I feel like I've known him forever, but it's really been less than three weeks." Martha looked cautiously at Angie, who nodded. "It's all happening so fast. I know I can trust him, but that's all I know."
"We did talk yesterday. I know how he feels about you."
"Well, that's more than I do," Martha retorted.
Angie decided to take the plunge: "The truth is, he's crazy about you and he's scared out of his wits. If you'll allow me to say this, you've been really good for him. As far as I know, the only thing he's done since the divorce is work. He hasn't been close to anyone that I know of except me and his son in years, and now he's in over his head, and he's got no idea what to do."
Martha looked thoughtful for a moment. "I probably shouldn't be asking you this, but Aaron's divorce… it was hard on him, wasn't it?"
"It was. You should probably ask him for the details, but they'd been having trouble for a long time. It was never a good marriage after the first few years. His wife finally left him for someone else. He really beat himself up about it, more than he should have."
"Did you know her?"
"Yes, I knew her." Angie's tone was neutral, and Martha asked no further questions. Instead they turned to the details of maintenance for the ranch property, which Martha was hoping to sell. Their discussion was interrupted by Martha's phone.
"Yes, Susan… you did? What did he have to say?… What?" Martha paled. "I can't believe it. What do you think we should do?" A pause. "I think I need to be there. Excuse me just a minute," she added in an aside to Angie, and went into the bedroom.
Ten minutes later she returned. Angie took one look at her, and stood quickly. "Is everything all right? Martha?"
"I'm going back to Dunlap and Tenney, Angie. I need that box and the note." Martha moved to the mantel as she spoke and picked up the bowl. "It turns out the only person Charles' attorney spoke to was Charles."
Two hours later, Martha was waiting at Tenney's conference table with the box and its contents before her. Next to her sat Susan Margate, fiddling with her cell phone. "Josh said he'd be back soon," she commented. "He's expecting your husband any minute."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "Josh?"
Susan grinned. "We've had quite the conversation today. I'm starting to think he's the 'good guy' of this law firm. His partner is the one who talked him into representing Mr. Logan, in fact he pretty much insisted on it. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody had something on Mr. Dunlap, from the way Josh described it."
As Martha mulled this over, the door opened and Charles was escorted in. Joshua Tenney followed him, looking grim. "Counselor. Mrs. Logan," he said, nodding to them both. No sooner had they sat down than Martha launched her attack.
"All right, Charles. It's time to come clean with me." She pushed the box and note toward him. "I want you to look at this. We had to evacuate my apartment building yesterday, no thanks to you. I found this on my kitchen table. There's no postage on it and nobody in the building admitted to knowing how it got there. I want to know who you told that I was going to keep an eye on you."
"I think I can answer that, Mrs. Logan." Joshua Tenney spoke up as Charles' expression turned sullen. "I checked the visitors log. My partner and one of our associates have been by to see him several times."
"It's not a crime to have my attorneys visit me," Charles retorted. "And our conversations are confidential. You know that."
"They're checking up on you, are they, Charles? Did you tell them everything we said to each other?" He winced at her scathing tone.
"Marty. When I asked you to come see me, I didn't realize it was going to raise questions. I should have known better. When Josh told me what you'd said—that you'd step in if anything happened to me—it was the best news I'd had in days. Didn't you expect him to pass it along? If you didn't mean it as a warning, why did you say it?"
Martha opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You're right," she admitted. No wonder Aaron was upset. "I did expect Mr. Tenney to do that, but it's a little disconcerting to be sold out by your own husband."
"I didn't do it to hurt you."
"I believe you, Charles. But I've learned a lesson from this. I'm not telling you anything else, not ever again. It just isn't safe." She stood up with an air of finality. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll see that you get it, but I don't plan to come back here."
He looked at her for a long moment; Martha realized there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Sorry, Marty." He turned and left without another word.
Martha slumped back down in her chair and closed her eyes, realizing that she'd just ended her marriage. After a moment, she looked over at Susan and Josh. "Twenty-five years…" she whispered, shaking her head. "Twenty-five years, and this is how it ends." She found a box of tissues being pushed in front of her and became aware that she was crying. Dabbing at her eyes, she sat for a few minutes and tried to pull herself together as the two attorneys conferred in low voices at the other end of the conference table. She desperately wanted to see Aaron, to tell him he'd been right and have him reassure her. If Angie's right, she thought. If he is in love with me—my God, I want that divorce.
"Mr. Tenney," she asked, "has Charles agreed to the divorce? I really do want to go ahead with this as soon as possible. Have you found someone to represent him?"
"That's what we were just discussing." Josh turned to her. "There's one attorney I work with frequently that I've been trying to reach." He nodded to Susan. "We both know him. His name's James Warren. He's been out of town for the last few days, but he'll be back tonight. Susan, you're going to call him?"
"I will. Don't worry, Martha, we're getting this show on the road." She smiled at Tenney. "Thanks. You really were helpful today. I'm surprised you didn't kill me after this morning."
Tenney started to laugh: "I was too scared of you to consider it."
Aaron braced himself and hit the elevator button. He hadn't bought flowers for anyone in longer than he cared to remember, and he knew that for anyone who knew him the combination of casual clothing and flowers would be like carrying a neon sign. Nevertheless, he'd felt obligated to bring a housewarming gift and flowers seemed the obvious choice. He'd been tempted to buy roses, but had recalled gerbera daisies were a frequent presence in Martha's White House suite; their bright pinks and oranges were now the colors he associated with her. Arriving on her floor, he avoided eye contact with the agent waiting in the hallway, hoping not to see any look of recognition or surprise. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself of Angie's advice.
She opened the door and her face lit up. "Oh, Aaron, how beautiful. Thank you." She pulled him inside, looking surprised. "Thanks for coming, I know it was short notice. I didn't expect flowers."
"I wanted to bring you something," he responded, smiling. "I'm glad you called. I really wanted to see you." He kissed her and handed her the flowers. "I thought these were your favorites. I hope I was right."
"You were," she admitted, deeply touched that he'd remembered. "These are going in water right now." She led the way into the kitchen, and he followed her.
"Something smells good. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for dinner, but I guess I'm a little late."
"I really didn't feel like going out, so I'm breaking in the kitchen. I thought I'd try chili—does that sound okay?"
"It sounds wonderful." He looked around. "You've done a great job. The first time I saw this place I wasn't impressed, but I am now. You must have a knack for decorating."
"I can't take the credit, my friend Jane handled most of that. She went through all my things and told me where to put everything. She picked out quite a bit of the furniture, too."
Aaron shook his head in admiration. "You should send her over to do my place. It could use a bit of a touch-up."
"How long have you lived there?"
"Four years, so I have no excuse. I've unpacked, but that's about it." Aaron's apartment was clean, serviceable, and cheerless; he'd had no incentive to make it otherwise. "I'm working most of the time and I'm not there much."
"Well, Jane and I will hire ourselves out and fix up your place next," Martha promised, smiling. "Want some iced tea? Or something else?"
He chose the tea, and they sat at the table drinking it. Martha had left the box on the table after her return from Dunlap and Tenney. As she moved it aside to make more room for them, it caught his eye and he looked at her questioningly. "You said you had something you wanted to tell me?"
"I—yes." Martha braced herself. "I went back to Dunlap and Tenney today. My attorney and I met with Charles and Joshua Tenney about the bomb scare. I wanted to tell you what happened."
Aaron tensed; he wasn't sure whether this was good news or bad. "Go ahead and tell me."
"What happened is, you were right. About everything." He looked at her questioningly, and she continued: "The only person Charles' attorney spoke to about our conversation was Charles. He's the one who leaked the information." Aaron's only response was a nod. "You figured it out, didn't you?"
"It was the most likely explanation I could think of." Aaron kept his voice neutral.
"Every time I think he's gone as low as he can go, he surprises me and goes lower still." Martha shook her head. "I'm not going to see him again. I told his attorney today that I want the divorce to go through as fast as possible; I'm not having any second thoughts about this. The sooner he's out of my life, the happier I'll be."
"Good." The bluntness of his response surprised a laugh out of her, and the tension in the room drained away. Martha got up to check on the progress of their dinner. "We could go sit in the living room," she offered, but he shook his head. "I like it here. I like kitchens, they feel like home to me."
"It's the saving grace of this apartment. It's the only place I looked at that didn't have a tiny kitchen. It's turning into my office, too; Angie and I were here this morning going through paperwork." She sat next to him and took his hand, and he linked his fingers with hers. "That reminds me," she added, "I have some other news for you."
"I have some for you too. I've been meaning to tell you, but I keep forgetting."
"You go first."
"The day I came to check your apartment, I had a meeting with President Gardner. That's why I ran late."
"I remember, Angie told me."
"Well, the short version is I've been promoted. President Gardner still wants me on his detail for special occasions, but I'm going to spend more time recruiting agents and doing administrative work. He spoke directly to the Service chiefs about it." Aaron smiled and shook his head. "He was kind enough to say some really nice things."
"Aaron, that's wonderful!" Martha hugged him. "I can't think of anyone who deserves it more than you do." Her face fell: "That means you won't be going to Russia, then. Or will you?"
"I'm going, all right—" he paused. "How did you know about Russia?"
"That's my news. My last night in the White House, President Gardner told me about the trip. He wants me to go." Looking at him worriedly, she continued: "Apparently I'm the only one the Suvarovs will talk to. He really needs my help, Aaron."
"They'll talk to you, but not him?"
"They know what happened in the motorcade attack. They know what Charles did, and they know why I got in the car." She took his hand in both of hers. "I know you aren't going to like it, but I think I need to go."
He looked at her seriously for a moment. "A few days ago, you would have been right. But considering what's happened," he added, glancing at the box, "it may not be such a bad idea for you to be out of the country for a bit. I could keep my eye on you that way," he added with a smile.
Martha smiled back. "Will you kiss me in the Kremlin?"
"If you want me to."
"Will you kiss me right now?"
He pulled her onto his lap.
