Chapter 24:

Marine One and its gaggle of decoys touched down in the field behind the lighthouse. The noisy beating of rotors sent snow flying in all directions, the crystals sparkling as they blew upwards into the floodlights around the pad. A uniformed Marine clicked his heels and saluted as Josh emerged from the helicopter. Josh nodded in return, but didn't salute back.

Josh's decision not to salute had resulted in considerable jeering from right-wing commentators, but Admiral Fitzwallace had informed the press that the President had consulted with him before making the call, and the Admiral and most other experienced officers shared his distaste for a practice that no president before Reagan-not even the former five-star general, Eisenhower-had ever engaged in, that violated both the military culture of saluting only in uniform and the Constitution's requirement that the presidency be a civilian and not a military office. Fox Noise had shut up after that, at least about salutes.

"I'm sorry we've made such a mess of your holiday," Josh said, as the Marine drove him and his staff up the driveway to the lighthouse. The helipad had been built behind the Secret Service buildings on the far side of the hill, out of sight from the house. "Ainsley and Andie must want to kill me. And Noah."

The two women, their children, and an enormous pile of Christmas gifts were on a private jet winging their way to Maine. It had been volunteered by a well-known actor whose principal home was in northern Virginia, just outside D.C.; they'd met when the movie was being made, and had been such good friends ever since that Donna hadn't hesitated to call and ask for help getting Sam's and Toby's families to the lighthouse.

"They're fine with it," Sam assured him.

"I owe them big-time."

"They'll be fine with that, too," Toby growled.

C.J. and Danny just looked at each other and shook their heads. Danny reached out an arm and tucked it behind C.J.'s waist, pulling her a little closer to him.

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Sally hit Josh like an express train with a hurricane behind it when he walked through the door.

"Hey, Sallykins, take care," he said, laughing. He swung her up till they were face-to-face. She buried her head in his shoulder.

"Hey," he said, not laughing anymore. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Mad at me." Her tones were muffled, but he was pretty sure that was what she'd said.

"Mad at you? Who's mad at you?" She shook her her head against his shoulder.

"I'm not mad at you. Mommy's not mad at you-are you, Mommy?"

"Of course not," Donna said. Josh had already shifted Sally's weight to one arm so he could get the other around his wife's waist and kiss her. He kissed her again now, and she reached around him to stroke Sally's hair.

"Noah's not mad at you."

Josh said it as a statement, but he scanned the room until he caught sight of his son standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and raised his eyebrows, making it a question. Noah, who had been considerably less eager than Sally to see his father, bit his lip and shook his head.

"Nope, Noah's not mad at you. Your grandmothers and your grandfather are never mad at you. And Uncle Sam's not mad at you, is he?" Sam shook his head.

"Not mad, Sally," he said solemnly. "I promise."

"Aunt C.J. and Uncle Danny, are you mad at Sally?"

"Of course not."

"Uncle Toby is always mad at everybody except Sally, isn't that right, Toby?"

"Never at you, Sally," Toby said, suppressing a smile. "And not at Noah, either."

"Well, that leaves Gressie. Congress, are you mad at Sally?"

Sally giggled at last. The idea of her devoted follower ever being mad at her was too ridiculous to contemplate.

"You've really got to change that dog's name," Sam murmured. "If the press ever gets hold of that. . . ."

Josh grinned and ignored his Chief of Staff.

"So, Sallykins," he said, "I think we've conclusively proven that no one who matters is mad at you. I suppose it's possible that Sally Jenowitz from Ms. Brown's nursery class two years ago is still mad at you for having the same name as hers, but we agreed long ago that you wear it much better than she does, and I can't think of anyone else who'd be even a little bit cross with such a fine specimen of Sallyness. So-who's mad at you?"

"You're not mad at me?"

Josh shook his head. "Not mad at you."

"Will-will Santa be mad at me?"

"Not even a little, tiny bit mad at you, sweetheart. Nobody's mad at you. But another time, we all want you to remember to do what you know you're supposed to do, and not what Noah convinces you it's okay to do. Because you did know, didn't you, that he shouldn't be leaving home without Mommy?"

Sally hung her head, but nodded.

"Are you mad at Noah?" she asked.

"Sally, Mommy and Daddy can never really be mad at either of you. Or not for very long. We love you too much for that. Noah and I are going to have a talk, but don't worry; he'll come out of it more or less all right." He smiled, and she knew he didn't really mean the more or less part very seriously. But still . . . .

"Is Santa mad at Noah?"

Josh laughed, and ruffled her hair.

"We'll find that out tomorrow morning, won't we?" he said.

Noah swallowed hard. He thought his father was joking, but-was he? What if he wasn't?

"Come on, Noah," Josh said, "let's get this over with."

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It was a thoroughly chastened boy who emerged from the dining room with his father thirty minutes later. He'd been sickened by the doctor's descriptions of what the bullet could have done to Cat, and sobered by his grandfather's account of how he'd made his mother and his grandmothers feel, but it was, as always, his father's opinion that mattered the most. All Josh had to do was look him in the eyes, shake his head, and say, "I'm disappointed in you, Noah," for a flood-tide of shame to wash through every corner of the boy's being and guarantee that he would never try anything so spectacularly foolish again.

Josh did, of course, say quite a bit more than that, but none of it was really necessary except to relieve his own feelings. He'd accomplished everything he needed to with that one sentence.

Noah listened, and nodded, and said he was sorry again and again. Finally Josh stopped and sighed.

"Okay," he said. "I guess I'm repeating myself. You understand why it was wrong, I know. I trust you not to do anything like this again."

"I won't, Daddy. I promise."

"Thank you, Noah. I believe you. So that's enough on that subject. But there's something else I want to hear about before we go back to Mommy and the others."

Noah scuffed at the carpet with his foot and wondered what else there could possibly be. His father had been thorough in covering every conceivable aspect of his wrong-doing in his various deceptions and misadventures that afternoon.

"What, Daddy?"

Josh couldn't quite keep the beginnings of a smile out of his eyes as he said,

"This Cat girl you wanted to see so much. What's she like, then?"

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"I think," Josh said quietly to Donna when he rejoined her, "we're going to have to look for a different school for Noah. This girl Cat seems to be the only kid he knows who's at his level. The only one his age, I mean-obviously, he gets on well with Toby's kids, and Sam's, but they're either too old or too young to be best friends with him. That's why it was so important to him to see her again."

"Well, that's part of the reason why," Donna said, demurely. Josh hadn't seen Cat yet; she and Mariana had left before he'd arrived. Donna had begged them to stay, but Mariana had seemed nervous and uncomfortable, and had insisted on getting back to the Maxwells' as soon as she'd heard from Dr. Pierce that Cat would be all right.

"Part of the reason?" Josh cocked an eyebrow at his wife.

"She's very pretty."

He threw back his head and laughed. His friends and family all turned their heads to look.

"Well, that stands to reason," he said, slipping his hand around her hips. "With you as his mother, he's got a very high standard that any girl he likes is going to have to meet."

"Stop that, Josh!" Donna slapped his hand away. "Everyone's watching!"

"I don't care."

"Well, I do. And anyway,"-Donna tried to look stern-"I hope he isn't that shallow. It would be dreadful if he couldn't be friends with a girl he didn't think was pretty."

"I didn't say he couldn't be friends with her if she wasn't pretty. I said he couldn't like a girl who wasn't as-well, not as beautiful as his mother, because that's impossible, but-"

"Honestly, Josh!" Donna cut him off, even though she was blushing with pleasure. "He can't like a girl who isn't pretty?"

"Like like."

She rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure you actually graduated from middle school?"

"Junior high. They didn't have middle schools in my day. And yes, woman, I did. From high school, too, not to mention Harvard and Yale. And now I'm the President of the United States, so I can say whatever I like and nobody can give me any lip about it."

"Except me," she pointed out. "At least," and she lowered her voice, "if you want me to give you any of my lips later on tonight."

Josh laughed.

"Everyone's still here," he pointed out. "And you were worried about me getting randy in front of them?"

"They couldn't hear me."

"Toby can hear me talking from three offices away."

"You're just predictable; he knows what you're likely to have said. And anyway, that's you, not me. He can't hear me at all."

"Yes, I can," Toby said, at her elbow. "You just said that your husband is predictable. You're right; he is."

Josh grinned. "Well, it's predictable that I'll pay my wife compliments any chance I get, especially today, which you'd better not have forgotten is-"

His cell rang. Donna looked at him questioningly-there were very few people who had his private, super-secure cell number, and most of them were in the room-but he ignored her and retreated to the dining room to answer it. He returned a few minutes later with a ridiculously large grin on his face.

"It's also," he said to the room at large, "predictable that at dinnertime I will get hungry. And I think it's going to be dinnertime soon."

Donna gasped, and clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Oh, goodness!" she said, though her fingers. "I'd lost track of the time. I'll have to defrost something." Donna kept a massively stocked pantry and freezer at the lighthouse; she had more than enough to feed a houseful of guests for at least a week. "What would everyone like? There's lots of lasagna. Or I could make omelettes . . . "

Josh smiled, and slipped his arm around her waist again.

"Don't be silly," he said. "I told you I'd talk to Gagnon. He said he'd be glad to make a meal for fifty if we wanted. I said I thought that would be excessive, but we'd be happy if he could manage one for nineteen adults and half-a-dozen children. Apparently nothing would delight him more. That was him on the phone; he's on his way. And unless I'm mistaken, that sound out there is the helicopter landing, which means Andie and Ainsley are here at last."

Toby and Sam stood up together. Donna's father smiled and pulled his chair out of the way so they could get a better view from the window. There was no sign of anyone yet, but the men stood there shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the cars to drive up with their families.

"Nineteen adults?" C.J. asked. "I make it several fewer than that."

"You, Danny, Toby, Andie, Sam, Ainsley, Donna and me-that's eight. The 'rents-eleven. Doctor and Mrs. Pierce-I've asked them to stay. Betty and Sid and Mary are coming back-I'm not sure if they'll have eaten or not, but I wanted there to be plenty if they want to. Joe's coming after he's finished up some paperwork at the station; he'll be hungry enough to eat a bear, and we want to feast him like the prince of policemen that he is, especially tonight. Darlene and Dougie are, mercifully, staying at home to eat and put their kids to bed, but yes, Donna"-Donna had raised her eyebrows-"I was good and asked them, even if they aren't my favorite couple in the world."

Having to maintain an acquaintance with Betty's self-centered, slovenly daughter and-worse-her mate was the one downside Josh had ever seen to his friendship with Betty, Sid, and Joe. Donna shared his distaste for them, but never wanted to risk offending Betty or Sid by doing anything to make that plain.

Fortunately, Betty had no illusions about her son-not-quite-in-law's appeal to anyone but her daughter, and she always refused Donna's polite invitations on their behalf, even though the Service had so far reluctantly consented to them. Josh privately thought that it wouldn't be long before Dougie got himself into trouble with the law, and then the invitations would no longer have to be issued, as the Secret Service would simply say no.

"That's seventeen," C.J. pointed out. "You said nineteen."

"I asked Captain Allen to join us." The presidential doctor-who had checked Noah over quickly while Josh had been greeting Sally-was standing on the other side of the room, comparing notes with Dr. Pierce.

"Eighteen."

"I was expecting the mother of that girl Cat to be here."

"I asked her to stay," Donna said. "But she was anxious to get away. It was odd."

"How?"

"She seemed so nervous. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Maybe that's just because of who we are now, but she wasn't like that when I used to see her on the beach. She was shy, but not this shy. And I was a Senator's wife then."

"First Lady is more intimidating."

"Maybe. It seemed odd, though."

"Did you ask Betty about it?"

"I didn't have a chance. I will if she comes back tonight."

"That's good. And now brace yourself: your house is about to get a whole lot smaller."

It was, but nobody minded. Sam and Toby were moving to the door. The next minute it flew open, and in blew Andie, Ainsley, Huck, Molly, Mindy, Daisy, and little Will. Noah and Sallie greeted them with wild enthusiasm. Gressie jumped around, barking rapturously.

"When's dinner?" Ainsley asked, over the row.

"Now," said a voice from somewhere behind her.

Ainsley spun around and squealed with delight. "Gagnon! You did come!" And then to Josh, "You kept your promise!"

"Don't I always?" he asked, grinning.

"So that's why you didn't mind uprooting your kids and all your plans for Christmas and dragging them all up here!" Donna said. "How many calls did you make about this from the air, Josh?"

"Did you know there are eighty-five phones on Air Force One? I thought I'd try them all."

Donna threw a hand dramatically to her forehead.

"How many guests did you say you invited?"

"Enough for a party. What was that, Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam said, hastily. "Enough for a party sounds good enough to me."

And it did. There was nothing he wanted more for either Josh or Donna right now, either as friend or Chief of Staff, than a really good party-even if he hadn't been able to stop himself from saying under his breath, "Eighty-four." He hadn't been referring to the guests.

To be cont'd. . . .