“You always were the smooth talking devil, James. I don’t believe you’ve met my son, Matt.” Matt stepped forward and shook the older man’s hand. “James was an usher during your great-grandfather’s administration,” Pontowski explained.
James grew very serious and looked at Matt. “President Pontowski was the finest man I have known. It was an honor to have served him and his wife. Your great-grandmother was an elegant lady.” He motioned Pontowski to enter. “I believe you know the way.” He watched the father and son walk down the hall to the staircase leading to the second floor.
“Making points?” another usher asked.
The chief usher shook his head. “Touching the future.”
“What does James do?” Matt asked as they climbed the stairs.
“The chief usher is like a hotel manager,” Pontowski answered. “He supervises everything from social events to repainting. It’s his job to know everything that goes on behind the scenes. What maid or butler is having personal problems, who’s sick, what needs fixing. The guests may come and go, but the staff stays.” An intern met them on the second floor and led them to the Yellow Room. Sarah rushed up and took Pontowski’s hand, demanding a kiss on the cheek. “I like your dress,” Pontowski said. She pirouetted away as her full, floor-length skirt billowed around her. Her blond hair flowed and twisted with her, creating the charming illusion of a dancer on center stage.
Then she was back. “Is this the first time you’ve been to the White House?” she asked Matt. The teenager nodded dumbly, not sure what to say. Then she danced away to greet other guests.
“I think she likes you,” Pontowski said.
“Gimme a break, Dad. She’s only eleven.”
Pontowski laughed. “Going on sixteen.”
“Maggot!” Brian called from across the room. He rushed up. “Has Chubs been buggin’ you?”
“She’s not fat,” Matt replied, defending Sarah.
“Yeah. I know. But it bugs the…” He cut off the word he was thinking of. “…out of her. Come on, I’ll show you my room.” Matt looked at his father who nodded. The two boys disappeared.
Matt wandered through the residence and, as before, the memories were back. For a brief moment in time, he was a lieutenant again and his grandfather was the president of the United States. As always, Tosh was there, his anchor and real mother. “A penny for your thoughts,” Maura asked, breaking into his reverie. One of the White House photographers capturing the party snapped a candid photo of them together.
“Thinking about times past.”
“Let’s find Maddy. I know she’s looking for you.” She took his hand. “I think she’s going to introduce you to the family. I hope you’re ready for it.”
“Have we reached that stage?”
“Dammit,” Maura said, surprising him. “You better have.” Then, “Take care of her Matt Pontowski. She’s still not over the crash.”
“It takes a while.”
She squeezed his hand and led him into the family quarters. Maddy wore a floor-length red skirt and white blouse. A gold chain matching her earrings snared her narrow waist and for a moment, Pontowski could not take his eyes off her. She laughed, not seeing him, and the empty void in his life was gone. She turned and saw him. “Matt, I’m so glad you could make it.” Her words were still a little too fast. She took his hand and reached up, kissing him on the cheek. He was aware that every eye in the room was on them and that the photographer had taken at least three shots recording the scene. She was announcing a change in their relationship.
Most of the guests had left and only a few of the family were still hanging on. Two of the older aunts, Vera and Kathy, had taken an intense interest in Pontowski and were hovering around him. “Well ladies,” Maura announced in a loud voice, “your pumpkin has arrived. It’s time to get you two old biddies to bed.”
“Careful who you’re calling an old biddy,” Vera countered. But she conceded the point and gave Pontowski a hug. “You’ll do — for now,” she said. Maura walked them out.
“They like you,” Maddy said. She was smiling at him. “Where are the boys?”
“I haven’t seen them all evening.” He followed her into the family lounge. They were alone and she sat on the couch by the fire. “Sarah was acting very grown up tonight,” he said.
“Too grown-up.” She shook her head. “You should’ve seen the first dress she wanted to wear. Right out of the Mata Hari collection. Fortunately, Maura talked her out of it.” She tilted her head and looked at him. The enchanting smile was back and she gave him a questioning look. He sat down next to her and she scooted closer. Her hand reached out and held his. For a moment, they were silent as she slowly relaxed. He felt her hand tremble. “The nightmares keep coming,” she finally said.
“It helps to talk about it. Maybe a minister or counselor.”
“I’ve talked to Reverend Ford. But can you imagine what Senator Leland would do if he learned I was talking to a counselor? He’d claim I had lost my marbles.”
“Surely, he can tell the difference between a counselor and a shrink.”
“In politics, they’re one and the same.” Again, silence. She moved a little closer. Instinctively, he put his arm around her and she cuddled against him. He was surprised at how small and fragile she felt. “Two of my best friends died. I loved Noreen, and if Dennis hadn’t turned my seat around or if Rick Bower, he was the Secret Service agent, hadn’t covered me with a fire blanket—”
He stroked her cheek and felt the tears. He gently brushed them away. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
“Is that how you handle it, by reading the Bible?”
“No. I do it by remembering. Slowly, he recited a list of names, each one vivid and alive. “Jack Locke, Mike Martin, Frank Hester, Skeeter Ashton…” The list grew longer. Then, “Shoshana.” His voice was calm. The pain was gone and only memory lingered on.
“Your wife.”
A simple, “Yes.” Again, the names came, all fresh and alive in his memory. “Because of them, I know what I have to do. And I will never forget.” He felt her relax.
“Neither will I,” she promised. They were silent as they looked into the fire.
“Do you like this place?” he asked.
A gentle nod answered him. A discreet knock at the door caught her attention. Pontowski moved over to the far side of the couch. “Come,” she said.
The door opened and James, the chief usher, entered. “Madame President, all the other guests have left. Ah, here are the proofs the photographers took tonight. I thought you might like to see them.” He handed her a cardboard tray half full of photographs. He stood as they sat together on the couch and thumbed through the photos, waiting for them to see it.
Pontowski saw it first. “Oh, oh.” He pulled the photo out of the tray.
Maddy stared at it for a moment and then sighed. Sarah was in an awkward embrace with Matt as they kissed. Her eyes were closed and his were wide open. “She’ll be twelve in June and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with this for another year or so. How old is Matt?”
“Fourteen. He knows better.”
She laughed. “This is harmless, almost cute.”
“Maddy, this is the White House and you are the president.”
“I know. In the wrong hands…” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in amused frustration. Then she faked a big sigh. “Perhaps a little lesson?”
Pontowski caught it immediately. “Just enough to get their attention?”
“Right. James, please send the miscreants in.”
“Immediately, Madame President.” The usher quickly left.
Maddy relaxed into the couch and stretched, enjoying the moment. “This will take some faking.”
Brian arrived first. Sarah and Matt trailed in behind. Maura came in and sat down. Maddy handed them the photo. “What were you doing?” she asked, trying to act stern.