“Good, because I would like a word with you.”
“Of course, Madam President.” Shield looked at the other agent and nodded. Jason headed toward the stairway while she started down the hall toward the president.
Thomas met her halfway and gestured toward the room Shield had just come out of. “I don’t see why we can’t talk in there. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Shield let the president go first into the Yellow Oval Room and shut the door behind them.
Thomas scanned the room and her gaze fell on Shield’s meal tray. “I didn’t know you were allowed to take your dinner in here.”
“The perks of not being your average Secret Service.”
Thomas approached the small table by the open balcony doors where Shield had sat and looked down at the bottle of wine. “They let you drink on duty?”
“You may have noticed I haven’t opened the bottle.”
“Then why is it here?”
“Because I felt the need to look at it since I can’t be at home,” Shield explained.
“I don’t understand. You want to look at the bottle?”
“It reminds me of home and the job I love. I make my own wine.”
“As in moonshine?”
“As in, I have my own company. A vineyard back home in Tuscany. It’s quite a successful label.”
Thomas picked up the bottle. “Il Grigio Angelo,” she read. “They serve this here, although I haven’t tried it yet.” She sounded surprised.
“Here. In Europe. In every good restaurant.”
“So, if you live in Tuscany, how did you end up in Washington?” Was Thomas going to get to the point of her request to see her, or were they going to talk about Shield’s bio?
“The organization I work for—”
“The EOO.”
“Yes, has us stationed all over the world. I usually baby…guard,” Shield corrected herself, “European political dignitaries, and occasionally American ones. It depends on where I’m needed.”
“Are you as good as they say?” the president asked.
“I must be, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“How does the wine fit into your life?”
“It’s what I do when I’m not on a job.”
Thomas sat down at the table, on the armchair opposite the one Shield had been in. “How did you decide to start a vineyard?” She sounded sincerely interested.
Shield sat down, too. “I started out by helping the owner—a friend. Eventually, I inherited the vineyard, improved the wine, and marketed it worldwide.”
“I doubt you need this job, then.”
“I don’t. I do it because part of me wants to—even though I hate being taken away from my home—and part of me has to.”
“Has to?”
“It’s a long story, but let’s just say I’m contracted to work for my employer indefinitely. In other words, until I’m no longer fit for my work.”
“It must be difficult to leave your loved ones.”
“Not really. I don’t have any.”
“I don’t just mean a girlfriend,” Thomas said.
“Why would you assume I had a girlfriend?”
“I…I simply meant I saw the way the waitress was looking at you.”
Shield was glad for the opening. “About that. I never play on the job, and I have a strong disliking for being accused of something I didn’t do.”
“My apologies,” Thomas said. “I never meant to offend you. I was tired and looking for someone to blame. I should never have reacted the way I did. It was uncalled for and unprofessional.”
“I won’t argue that.”
“It’s why I wanted to see you. I wanted to say I was sorry.” The president was looking at her with an expression of sincere regret, a response Shield found uncharacteristic in light of her previous bodyguard’s experience, but welcome nonetheless. Elizabeth Thomas continued to confound and surprise her.
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m glad.” Thomas smiled. “But what I meant earlier is that I assumed you prefer the same sex.”
“How presumptuous. Is it because of my job?”
“I don’t have to be a homosexual to have a gaydar. Am I wrong?”
Shield snickered at Thomas’s use of the word gaydar and the president smiled. “No, you’re not wrong. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at all. What you do in your spare time is none of my business.”
“I’m glad,” Shield repeated, and smiled, too.
“How about your family?” the president asked next. “Don’t you miss them?”
“I don’t have one. I was adopted by the organization when I was six.” Shield rarely volunteered such information, but with Thomas, it didn’t matter. The president certainly had a briefing file somewhere about the EOO, if she cared to read it.
Thomas looked at her intently, then averted her gaze. “That must have been rough.”
“I guess…at times, anyway. I’ve never spent too much time dwelling on what could or should have been.”
“You’ve never wondered what it would have been like to have a family?”
“Sure, but I can’t say I’ve ever missed it,” Shield replied. “It’s hard to long for something you’ve never experienced.”
Thomas stared out the window toward the Washington Monument in the distance for a long while, seemingly lost in thought. In Shield’s experience, people often felt sorry for you when you told them you were adopted, but Thomas instead looked hurt. “So, I assume you’ve never felt the need to look for them,” the president finally said.
“Never. All I know is I was born and adopted in Melbourne, Australia.”
The president raised an eyebrow. “An Aussie?”
“In blood, yes, but an Italian at heart.”
“How was it growing up in an organization?”
“It’s funny how that varies from kid to kid. Some love it, make friends and enjoy the constant playing and schooling and find it a home, and others…don’t.”
“And how about you?”
“I was one of those who didn’t. I’ve never liked noise, and boy, there was a lot of that.”
“Yes.” Thomas sounded wistful. “I mean, kids seem to love screaming. My sister’s kids do, anyway.”
“Not me, and I was never very social. Spent a lot time on my own and out of other people’s way. Kids welcomed me when I sought them out, but they never went out of their way to track me down. I think they found me a bit odd. Most adopted kids crave acceptance. I just looked forward to getting out and on with my life. I wanted to find my place in the world, not a family.”
“Did you?”
“I did,” Shield replied. “When I found Italy.”
Thomas sighed. “It must be wonderful to know where you belong.”
“You sound like you don’t, when you appear to have everything.”
“Appear being the key word.”
“It’s definitely not easy being you.”
Thomas shook her head almost imperceptibly and let out a small laugh devoid of humor. “You have no idea.”
“I don’t even want to imagine having to live your life.”
“This life, the one before. Trust me, you don’t want to imagine either.”
Rich political families could definitely come with drawbacks. Cold, ambitious parents more interested in grooming successors than in loving their child. But no one could have forced Thomas to become president. You needed to want and fight for that position wholeheartedly in order to obtain it, especially if you were the first female to hold the highest office in the world. But she couldn’t argue that it came with a lot of sacrifices and potential dirty work. “I guess no one is ever really prepared for what’s expected in your position, no matter how much they groom you for it.”
The president looked away. “You can say that again. Sometimes I wish I had made different choices, but…” Thomas massaged her temples. “Well, what choice did I really have?”