At half-past seven, David Seaborn dropped his keys into the brass dish on the lowboy in the center hallway, pausing to smile at the rental-car keys already lying there. He stopped in the library to leave his briefcase on the desk. He had not brought work home for the first time in months. He planned to spend the next two days with his son. Sniffing the air, he followed the wonderful smell of garlic and chicken and wine into the kitchen.

He wrapped his arms around his wife as she stirred a pot on the stove. "Chicken cacciatore? We haven't had that in ages. It smells incredible!" As he dropped a kiss on her dark hair, he realized she was crying. "Katie, what's wrong?"

Kate put down the spoon and turned in his arms. "It's Sam. He looks... He's exhausted."

"Couldn't be any worse than law school, though, right?" he tried joking. During his years at Duke, they had seldom seen Sam awake for the first two days of any visit. He would appear for the occasional meal and then stagger back to bed.

She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "Worse. I've never seen him this way."

"Well, on top of doing a very demanding job, he's had a tough couple of months."

"I wish he'd told us. We could've been there for him. We should've been there."

"That's not Sam," he reminded her.

"He's too damn stubborn for his own good." Kate looked at him. "He gets that from you."

He laughed. It was an old argument between them. "Where is he?"

"Asleep. I'm debating if we should even wake him for dinner."

"If we don't, he's going to be upset he missed this," David told her, nodding toward the stove. "I'll get him when I go up to change, all right?" He grabbed a piece of bread and dunked it into the sauce. "Oh, he won't want to skip dinner tonight."

Kate laughed and pushed him toward the door. "Go and change. It will be ready in fifteen minutes."

David ran up the curved staircase to the second floor. Turning right at the top for the first time in eight months, he knocked lightly and let himself into his son's room. The sconces in the hall filled the space with soft, filtered light. The room itself was neat, Sam's things already put away.

Sam was lying on his side facing the door. As David crouched beside the bed, he tried to remember a time when he had found his son sleeping in any other position. Kate was right; he looked exhausted. Even in sleep, he was frowning, a crease in-between his brows.

"Time for dinner, son." He waited a minute, then gently shook Sam's shoulder. "C'mon, your mom's been cooking all afternoon."

Sam woke slowly. "Dad? Wha' time zit?" he mumbled.

"7:45. You want some dinner?"

"Yeah…" Rolling onto his back, he stretched. "Give me a sec."

"I'm going to change. Mom said fifteen minutes before we eat, okay?"

"'Kay," Sam managed around a yawn.

Using the edge of the bed, David pushed himself to his feet and studied his son for a moment. "Go back to sleep. You can eat later."

"No, I'm good. Didn't mean t'sleep so long."

"Supper will keep. You look done in."

"Law school tired?"

"White House tired."

Sam grimaced. "Ain't that the truth."

As he walked to the door, David glanced back. Used to a Sam who was alert seconds after opening his eyes, it bothered him to see his son still blinking his way to full wakefulness. He frowned as he crossed the landing to the master suite and changed into jeans and a sweater. Even before his son's confession on Sunday night, though, he had sensed there was something wrong, but had not pressed him, knowing how Sam hated being fussed over. Now he damned himself for not trying harder, not calling more. He had tried calling during the week, but thanks to an unusually frantic schedule, had not connected with Sam. He had placated himself with the knowledge that he would be home at the end of the week.

As he started downstairs, he realized that Sam's door was still only partially open. Doubling back, he poked his head in. Sam had fallen back to sleep. His frown had eased, but the dark circles under his eyes were visible even in the half-light.

Kate was lighting the candles on the table when he walked in. "Did you wake him?"

"Yeah, but he was asleep again before I finished changing."

As David poured the wine, she cleared Sam's place setting and brought in dinner. They ate quietly, both disappointed it was just the two of them after a week of anticipating having Sam there as well.

"How do you think he looked?" Kate asked as she took a second helping of salad.

"You were right. I've never seen him that tired, and that was after a couple hours of sleep."

"When he got here, I asked if he wanted some lunch, but he wasn't interested. We talked for a few minutes, and then he went upstairs. He was asleep when I checked on him half an hour later."

David reached over and covered her hand with his. "It's no wonder he's tired. He was up at the crack of dawn to catch the flight."

"And after what he's been through for the last two months..." She frowned and shook her head. "I don't care what you say, I'm furious with Josh!"

He groaned. They had been over this and over this. "Sweetheart —"

"I mean it! Josh isn't just another colleague; he's supposed to be Sam's friend. Why didn't he help?"

David refilled their wine glasses. "Sam's a grown man, Kate, a counselor to the President. He can take care of himself."

She nodded. "I know, but I get angry every time I think about it."

"Me, too," he admitted. "I expected better from those people."

They sat quietly for a minute before Kate picked up her plate. "If we're done, why don't you take the wine into the family room?"

"Why don't I help you clean up, and then we'll both take the wine into the family room? It's a good night for a fire," he countered. As Kate passed him, he pulled her into his arms. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine."

She leaned against him. "You promise?"

"I do. We just have to give Sam time to get his feet back underneath him."

"And then?"

"He'll decide what he wants to do, and we'll support him."

"Same as always."

He smiled. "Same as always."