Dev leaned against her desk as she spoke. “Quote. The First Lady is a bright, talented woman who has a right to her own opinions just like the rest of us. On occasion, those opinions differ from mine, which is fine by me. She is my partner, not a yes-man, and I value the different perspective she might bring to any issue. However, the First Lady’s comments about DNA registration do not signal a lack of support for the legislation,” she paused and looked directly at Lauren, “but rather a genuine concern about the nature and amount of government intrusion into the lives of its citizenry. This is a concern this administration is not only sensitive to but shares. End quote.” Dev winked at the impressed look on her wife’s face.
Sharon stopped the recording.
“Wow,” Lauren told Dev seriously.
“That works, Madam President,” David commented thoughtfully.
“How do we demonstrate that we’re serious about concerns like Lauren’s?” Sharon followed up, making a few notations on her notepad.
“After you read my quote, release some of the crime statistics that show how helpful DNA records will be and follow them up by showing our successes in reduction of violent crime and in funding for state and local law enforcement. Show the public that they’ll be getting something valuable in return for giving up those two drops of blood. Also outline the privacy safeguards that will be in place.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sharon smiled and stuck her pencil behind her ear, her short natural cut Afro holding it in place.
“Liza,” Dev trained her eyes on her tall assistant. “Tonight’s press event was going to be held at George Washington University Hospital and we were expecting minimal press coverage, correct?”
Liza flew through the screens of her electronic organizer at the speed of light, the flashing lights reflecting in her eyes. “The room capacity is 50 and no additional electrical hookups were requested. That puts expected attendance at no more than eight camera crews.”
Dev made a face. “That won’t work. Everyone will want to be there to see if Lauren bothers to show up.” She shot a quick questioning glance at Lauren, who nodded vigorously.
“I’ll be there,” the blonde assured.
“Good.” Dev’s eyes suddenly widened as she had a thought. “You won’t pass out will you?”
Beth chuckled.
“One chair for the First Lady,” Liza added to her list.
“Okay,” David jumped in, “let’s move the press event here. There’s more room and everything is set up. We might as well milk the publicity.”
Sharon batted her eyelashes at David. “A man after my own heart.”
Dev considered David’s suggestion. “That works. And get on the phone to Party Chairman Jordon. If we’re going to get some good exposure I want some willing volunteers from both Houses over here and ready to show their support.” She pinned David with a serious glare. “Stress the word 'volunteers.' I don’t want anyone here who is the least bit uncomfortable or ambivalent. I won’t have this blowing up in our faces later.”
“Consider it done. In fact, I’ve had a hankering to get my finger pricked all day.”
Dev gave his shoulder a hearty pat. “Good man. Sharon?”
“Yes, Madam President?”
“The usual spin doctors?”
“Will be there with bells on, armed with all the stats.”
Dev exhaled. “Mr. Oaks?”
Michael lifted his jaw. “Ready, Madam President.”
“When are Lauren and I scheduled for our next social appearance in public?”
“Eight days from now,” he answered easily. “An Emancipation Party fundraiser in Georgetown. Semi-formal.”
Dev made a face. “Not soon enough.” She turned to Lauren. “Would you like to go on a date with me so the world can rest assured that you really like me?”
Lauren bit her lip and nodded. “Anywhere.”
“Someplace romantic,” Dev added, still looking at Lauren. “We might as well kill two birds with one stone.
Michael was too busy mentally sorting through possibilities to roll his eyes again. But Dev’s words filled the room with faces wreathed in indulgent grins.
“That leaves the First Lady,” Dev said.
Lauren felt her stomach jump into her throat. “Yes?”
Dev pointed to the evidence of her mini-temper tantrum. “You owe the administration reimbursement for one very large coffee mug.”
“I’ll buy a half dozen,” Lauren promised.
Michael sniffed. “What about the bust of George W. Bush?” he pointed out, visibly angry at the defilement of one of his political heroes.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Oaks,” Dev said seriously. “Lauren?”
Lauren blanched. God only knew how expensive that statue was. “Yes, Devlyn?”
“We’ll call it even for the coffee mug.” Dev grinned as Michael’s face flushed with anger.
“That’s it, people,” she finished. “Go to it.”
With a round of murmured goodbyes the room quickly cleared, leaving Lauren and Dev alone.
Lauren blinked a few times, shaking her head as if to clear it. “All that after one sentence from me?” She blew her bangs out of her face and joined Dev on the corner of the desk. “Wow. I don’t think I’ll ever speak again.”
Dev chuckled. “Why don’t I believe that statement?”
Lauren backhanded her spouse lightly on the shoulder. “Because you aren’t that lucky?”
Dev’s chuckle turned into a full laugh that was music to Lauren’s ears.
*
*
*
THANKSGIVING
Howard Strayer stood outside Frank and Janet Marlowe’s front door, the large box that had traveled with him from Tennessee resting near his feet. Unhappily, he glanced down at it, wondering now if his rather impulsive gesture had been a foolish idea. Then he turned so his gaze could travel down the long, tree-lined driveway. He caught sight of two Secret Service agents drinking steaming cups of coffee, their eyes alert and scanning the property as they walked the perimeter. Maybe this entire trip was a mistake.
He lifted his hand to knock, but, before his knuckles struck wood, the door swung open. Howard blinked a couple of times, a little overwhelmed by Devlyn’s sudden and unexpected presence.
The President’s hair hung loose over her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of comfortable-looking Levis, an oversized navy-colored cable-knit sweater and nothing on her feet but a pair of thick, white sweat socks. It was the most casual Howard had ever seen the woman, and it took a moment for his brain to reconcile the image before him with the buttoned-up professional he’d seen on television so many times.
Just before he switched the channel.
Dev smiled what she hoped was a warm greeting. “Won’t you come in?”
Howard merely grunted and grabbed the box at his feet, before entering a well-lit foyer. He glanced around at the expensive furnishings and polished brass scattered throughout the large entry. “I… um… expected a servant to open the door.”
Dev arched an eyebrow as she reached out and took his coat. She opened a small closet and pulled out a hanger. “My parents have a housekeeper, Mr. Strayer. But she’s busy working on dinner, so I’m on door duty.” Not quite true. A set of gates secured her parents’ property, and when Howard had passed through the security check at the main gate, she’d been notified by cell phone of his arrival. She’d insisted that an agent merely escort him up the walk, rather than inside. She could tell by the way his eyes followed the agents that they made him uncomfortable.
Howard rocked back on his heels, his eyes flicking from surface to surface. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
“And, I suppose…” He drew in a deep breath and grudgingly pushed ahead. “I suppose you should call me Howard.”
This time Dev’s smile was warmer. She’d win over this curmudgeon of a southern plumber if it took 20 years. She just hoped that, for Lauren’s sake, she could manage it a little sooner. “Thank you. And you could call me Dev?” She lifted her eyebrows in question, very well aware that he tended not to address her at all. After her and Lauren’s wedding ceremony, he’d given his daughter a quick goodbye hug and disappeared before the reception could begin.
“All right,” he said slowly.
“Good.” Curious, Dev glanced down. “What’s in the box?”
Howard was tempted to say
“none of your business,” but he bit back his natural impulse and shrugged. “Nothing much. Some old stuff for Lauri.”
Janet entered the foyer, carrying a mug of hot coffee. “Hello, Howard.”
The man visibly relaxed.
Janet smiled and passed over the cup. “We’re so pleased that you could come.”
“Thank you for having me,” Howard answered politely, causing Dev to blink.
Then Frank Marlowe strode into the room. “Howard.” He extended his hand and the men exchanged firm handshakes. “I hope you’re hungry. There’s enough food here for an army.”
Dev watched in amazement as Howard’s demeanor relaxed even further, the look on his face becoming almost placid.
“I’m starved. I’d always heard you got food on planes.” He’d driven up for the wedding, but his truck was acting up and he decided to splurge on a plane ticket this time out. "There wasn’t even a measly bag of peanuts on my flight, that’s for dam—” His gaze shot to Janet, and to Dev’s amazement, he blushed. “Excuse me, ma’am, I meant to say for darn sure.”
Frank chuckled and clasped Howard’s shoulder. “No harm done. Janet’s been known to make sailors blush herself.”
“Frank!” Janet gasped, but her eyes were merry and everyone, even Howard, seemed to know that’s as far as she’d take her token protest.
“Traveling always makes me hungry,” Frank continued. “And the day I’ll pay $13.50 for a cheese sandwich in the airport is the day I bare my butt on Main Street!”
Howard snorted his agreement, finding it very easy to like Frank, despite the fact that he was very aware of their different social classes. “I’d starve first.” He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his trousers, feeling a lot better about being here. When the silence in the room lengthened, he cast about for something to say. “So… um… Frank. I hear you have horses here?”
Frank’s ears perked up. “I have a half dozen beauties,” he said proudly, rocking back on his booted heels and suddenly reminding Howard strongly of Frank’s daughter. “Would you like to see them?”
He nodded. “I’ve bet on them plenty, but never touched one in person.” He half smiled. “Too much of a city rat, I guess.”
“You’ll need a coat,” Frank advised. “And you might as well take off that necktie.” He gestured to the sedate blue tie circling Howard’s thick throat. “We don’t stand on ceremony as you can see.” He gestured at his neatly pressed but casual shirt. “C’mon, my jacket’s on the back porch.”
Everyone looked at Dev, who belatedly sprang into action and retrieved Howard’s heavy jacket from the closet.
“Much obliged,” Howard told her absently, already following Frank out of the foyer and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He suddenly stopped and looked a little unsure of himself. He addressed Dev. “You’ll tell Lauren—”
“I’ll tell her you’re here,” Devlyn assured. When the men were gone, she gazed at her mother in wonder. “What the hell just happened?”
“What do you mean?” Janet moved Howard’s box away from the front door and towards the wall so no one would trip over it.
“You all are friends?”
Janet nibbled her lower lip. “'Friends' may be a little strong, Dev. But we’re in-laws and we’re friendly. We’ve spoken by phone a few times since the wedding. As a matter of fact, Frank and I called him after Lauren’s accident.” She shook her head sadly. “He saw the reports on television before anyone knew whether she was all right. I think that took five years off the man’s life.”
“Buh…” Dev let out a frustrated breath. “He didn’t even call her afterwards! He only sent flowers and a card.”
Janet’s brows contracted. “Surely you don’t think that’s because he doesn’t care about her welfare?”
A guilty look swept across Dev’s face. “Well—”
“Devlyn!” Janet’s voice took on a scolding edge. “You should know better than that. Lauren does. Was she upset by the card instead of a call?”
Dev frowned. “No. I guess not.” She plucked her mother’s coffee cup from her hands and stole a deep drink. “Though I was plenty pissed,” she murmured against the cup, wincing as her thievery resulted in a burnt tongue.
“Mmm.” Janet took a step closer to her daughter. “I know that Howard Strayer wasn’t the father you had, and Lord knows Lauren didn’t deserve any less.
But the man has his own ways, just like you and I do. And he’s truly trying, or he wouldn’t be here at all.”
Dev pursed her lips. “True.”
Janet’s gaze softened. “Don’t be so hard on the man, dear, and stop trying so hard yourself. He’s not going to meet your expectations for a long time, if ever. But I do believe, eventually, he’ll come around where you’re concerned.”
A slender dark brow lifted. “After he gets over the fact that I’ve lured his daughter into an unnatural, immoral lifestyle in addition to subjecting her to the vile, twisted world of politics?”