“I never realized Shaw was that subtle.”
“Patrick had his moments,” Turner replied, thinking of all she had learned from him.
“Will there be anything else, Madame President?”
“I was hoping to speak to General Bender today.” It was a gentle reprimand that her staff had not done their job.
“We found him in Arizona,” Parrish said. She arched an eyebrow. “He,” Parrish rushed to add, “will be available tomorrow. When would you like to see him?”
“Whenever it’s convenient.” That was her code for It-had-better-happen-tomorrow.
It was a quiet evening at home. Sarah was sitting on the floor wearing a headset and listening to music while she did her homework. Maura was sitting in a recliner reading one of her fashion magazines with her knitting in her lap. Occasionally, she drifted off to sleep, only to give a little honk and wake herself up. In the background, the TV was turned to CNN. Madeline Turner was curled up in the corner of her favorite couch wearing a baggy track suit and woolly socks. She was reading the blue binder on the UN South African peacekeeping mission she had requested that morning. The room was a scene of domestic tranquility paparazzi would have killed for to photograph. But Maddy’s fierce protection for her family’s privacy made that impossible.
Maura gave a little honk and woke up. “Mother,” Maddy asked, closing the three-ring binder, “you met Matthew Pontowski at NMMI. What was your impression?”
“Little Matt?” Maura asked, still drowsy.
“No, his father.”
Now the older woman was fully awake. It had been a long time since her daughter had asked her opinion about a single man. “He’s very attractive,” Maura replied. “A widower, you know. Lenora McMasters told me all about him. He was very wild in his younger days when he was a fighter pilot.”
Maddy shook her head in disapproval. She had met too many Pontowskis in her time; good-looking men who reeled women in with far too much success and ease. “The top-gun image,” she said. “I never knew if they were talking about their penis or their airplanes. Why do women fall for it?”
“Fall for what?” Sarah asked, pulling off her headset.
Both women sighed in resignation. Once Sarah joined in a conversation, she pursued a topic with bulldog-like determination. “The things men do to attract women,” Maddy answered.
“Oh,” Sarah replied, apparently satisfied with that answer. Then, “Mom, who are the Moody Blues?”
“An old rock-and-roll group from the early 1970s,” Maddy answered. “I don’t think they’re still recording.”
“I never liked them,” Maura said.
“Your father and I loved them,” Maddy said. “We used to sit and hold hands listening to them.” She caught Maura’s amused look and, for a moment, was back with Brian Kelly Turner. Indeed, they had listened to the Moody Blues, but they weren’t exactly holding hands. They were usually in bed making love. The sex had been wonderful. But there had been a rough spot when she discovered she was pregnant and not sure if she wanted to marry him. However, Brian Kelly Turner had pursued her so doggedly that she finally gave in. Then she had a miscarriage.
But it was an excellent marriage that had grown stronger over the years. His death from a heart attack while playing tennis at forty-eight had devastated her. It had happened in the middle of the election when she was running for vice president on the Quinton Roberts ticket. Shaw used her husband’s death as the springboard to victory. He turned around the losing campaign by casting her as a devoted mother of two young children gamely soldiering on. It had worked because it was true. It also covered up her thin political record and captured 88 percent of the women’s vote.
“Maddy,” Maura said, drawing her back to the moment and Matt Pontowski. “People do change, you know. Why did you ask?”
“I’m reading about a peacekeeping mission he was on in South Africa. Apparently, he was involved with a woman down there, Elena Martine, the head of the UN Observer Mission.”
“Didn’t we meet her at a reception?”
“How could I forget,” Maddy replied. Elena Martine had been introduced by the French ambassador and had been the star of the evening, upstaging every woman there. More than one tongue had been seen wagging or drooling, depending on the sex of the owner. As a result, Elena had gone on every Washington hostess’s blacklist. No wife in her right mind wanted a temptation like Elena floating around the cocktail and dinner party circuit.
“What’s wrong with Little Matt’s dad being involved with someone if he’s single?” Sarah asked.
“It all depends on the circumstances,” Maura answered. “He was in Africa to do a job for his government. I remember something on the news. How did it turn out?”
“Actually, not bad,” Maddy answered. “There was some fighting but the current situation seems fairly stable — for Africa.”
Sarah climbed onto the couch and cuddled beside her mother. “Mom, are you ever going to get involved with another man again?”
Maddy knew it was futile to avoid the subject. “Not while I’m president, Chubs.” She playfully poked the eleven-year-old’s ribs. Sarah was skinny as a rail and had never been chubby. But her brother Brian had often called her Chubs to irritate her.
“Mother!” Sarah protested. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I, darlin’.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “If I became romantic with a man while I’m president, it would become a political issue. Unfortunately, truth is the first casualty in politics. Too many people would twist the truth to use a relationship to keep me from doing my job. It wouldn’t be fair to the country or the man. Or you.”
“Why do they want to keep you from doing your job?”
“Because some people see the world differently than I do.” She changed the subject. “Bedtime.”
Maura snorted, demanding their attention. “Tell her the rest.”
Sarah looked confused and Maddy gave a mental sigh. Why do children have to grow up so fast these days? she thought. “What your Grams is talking about is power. Many people are in politics because they want the power to make other people do what they say. They’ll lie, cheat, and steal to get power and keep it. They want to be important. They want everyone to know who they are and treat them special, even when they don’t deserve it.”
“Oh,” Sarah said. “You mean they’re on an ego trip. My teacher is on one all the time.” She scooted off the couch and gathered up her books. “Personally, I think being truthful is more important than anything else and if you like someone, you shouldn’t be afraid of getting involved.” She kissed Maura on the cheek before giving her mother a peck. She flounced out of the room.
“Out of the mouth of babes,” Maura said, her words barely audible.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Maddy said, returning to her reading.
FOUR
Mikhail Vashin hated everything about Gen. Col. Peter Prudnokov; the classic good looks, the perfect fit of the air force uniform on his tall, athletic body, and the aura of command that drew people to him, including Geraldine Blake. And she knew better. “Please, Peter Davydovich,” Vashin said, using the three-star general’s patronymic, “sit down. This is an honor and I am pleased that you should think of me.”