“I know the situation is different now than when we talked this morning,” she said, “but do you really think that, if you were president, you could appoint me head of Central Intelligence?”
“I think a better thing would be for me to appoint a group to evaluate candidates and make a recommendation. If you were among the recommended, it would be a lot easier to appoint you. Certainly, there’s no precedent for a first lady holding down a top government job. Not even Bobby Kennedy’s appointment as attorney general was as sensitive as that. Can we leave it that I’ll do the very best I can?”
“I suppose we’ll have to leave it that way.”
“At worst, you could stay in your present job. And anyway, if I’m not elected, you have no guarantee of ever having the top job. The fact that you’re my wife would probably weigh against you with almost any president, certainly with a Republican.”
“You mean, my best shot is having my husband in the White House?”
Will laughed. “You said that; I didn’t.”
“All right, I’ll accept that: Nepotism is my best hope. But how am I going to hold down a full-time job at the Agency and still attend all these state dinners and receptions?”
“Listen, I’d have to hold down a job as president, while attending them.”
“Touché,” she said.
5
They were met at the Warm Springs airport by Henry, the African-American retainer and factotum who had served the Lee family for decades. Will shook Henry’s hand, inquired after his health and that of his wife, Marie, and got a satisfactory reply. Henry looked little older than he had ten years before.
Henry dropped them at Will’s lakeside cottage and drove on to the main house. Will and Kate showered and rested a while, then walked up to the main house for dinner. The house, a brick-and-granite Georgian structure, had been copied from Will’s mother’s family home in County Cork, Ireland, and Patricia Lee had acted as the general contractor, supervising every detail of the building. It was fifty years old, and had a patina of maturity about it, wearing its age well.
Henry brought them drinks in the library, and a moment later Billy and Patricia Lee entered. Patricia was nearly eighty and her husband five years older, but they both looked remarkably well, Will thought whenever he saw them. Billy had had two heart attacks during the past twenty years and walked with a cane, but he was pink-faced and healthy-looking. There was an exchange of embraces and kisses, more drinks were brought, and they settled in to catch up.
“We were so sorry Peter couldn’t be with us,” Patricia said, “but we know it’s his father’s turn. How is the boy?”
“Thriving,” Kate replied.
“Will he come back to us this summer?”
“For at least a month,” Kate said. “I’m not sure there are enough girls in Delano to suit him.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Patricia replied, smiling.
Will’s father spoke up. “How come you were so late, Will? We were expecting you for lunch.”
“I’m sorry about that, Dad,” Will replied, “but we were diverted before we could take off. The vice president invited us to Camp David for brunch.”
Billy cocked his head. “That’s a little odd, isn’t it, right at the beginning of the Christmas holiday?”
Will and Kate exchanged a glance, which was not lost on Billy Lee.
“What’s up?” Billy asked.
“I can’t tell you all of it,” Will said, “and what I do tell you can’t go any farther.”
“Shoot.”
“It looks as though Joe won’t run for president.”
Everybody in the room sat stock-still for a long moment.
“He’s ill, then,” Billy said with finality.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to. Heart? Cancer?”
“Nothing like that. I can’t tell you more at the moment.”
Billy nodded. “Then you’ll be running.” It wasn’t a question.
“Very likely. I haven’t made a final decision.”
“What decision? There’s no decision to make. If Joe Adams is out, you have to be in.”
Will didn’t quarrel with his father. “I haven’t decided when to announce. Joe wants me to come out the first of the year.”
“He’s right; time is short. Who else knows about this?”
“Just Joe and Sue.”
“That’s what he told you, anyway. Joe’s a pretty sly politician.”
“I believe him,” Will said.
“Believe him, if you like, but don’t act on that belief.”
“You’re not getting cynical on me, are you, Dad?”
“Just realistic.”
It wasn’t bad advice, Will knew. He nodded.
“We’ll have a lot to talk about over this holiday,” Billy said.
“Let’s not rush it, Dad.”
“At my age, I have to rush everything. I wouldn’t want to kick off next month without having given you the benefit of my wisdom.”
“Well, you’ve never denied me that.” Will laughed.
His mother laughed with him. “It’s been pretty good wisdom, hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
“I still know a few people around the country who could help,” Billy said. “Of course, there are fewer of them than there used to be.”
“I’m going to need all the help I can get,” Will said.
Billy nodded. “Just be careful what you have to give for it.”
Henry came in to call them to dinner.
For the first time he could remember, sex did not render Will unconscious. He and Kate made love in their usual slow, caring way, and soon Kate was snoring softly and Will was staring at the ceiling. He got out of bed as quietly as he could, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of milk. He took it into the living room and sat in his leather recliner.
Normally, decisions came easily to Will; he had an orderly mind, and he organized and considered alternatives quickly. But this situation resisted resolution. Try as he might, he could not arrange the problem in a way that suggested a course of action. There were too many variables — Joe Adams’s illness, its current state and its rate of progression; the president’s preferences with regard to the Democratic nomination; other potential candidates; his own loyalty to Joe. If Joe had simply resigned and gone home to Florida, it would be easier, but he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to hang on to what power he had, Will thought, for as long as he could. What would he, himself, do in the same situation? Maybe the same thing. He could hardly urge Joe to get out and make way for him.
He sat for a good two hours thinking about all this before he got sleepy. Finally, he crawled into bed beside his sleeping wife and drifted off. Sleeping on it would help, he knew. And when he woke up, he had made a decision.
They brought muffins and coffee to the bed and propped themselves up, watching the Today show.
“Why do they allow all those people in the street to make such fools of themselves?” Kate asked.
“Careful,” Will replied. “Those people are voters.”
“I’ve never understood why Americans go nuts in front of a TV camera,” she said, shaking her head. “And even less, why a television network would inflict them on us.”
“I’m not going to do it,” Will said suddenly.
Kate turned and stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re not going to run?”
The phone rang.
Kate looked at the bedside clock. “It’s not seven-thirty yet; your parents would never call this early.”
Will picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Senator Lee?”
“Yes.”