“Really?”
“Sure. Just warn the boys that they will be strip searched before they are allowed on the premises, and that any drugs, alcohol, or just about anything else I don’t like will get them thrown in Federal prison! Maybe I can get the Secret Service agents to demonstrate marksmanship for them.”
“DADDY!” they protested in unison.
Marilyn giggled at this, and I could see a couple of agents snorting in silent laughter. “Enough of this. Would you like to go inside and see where we’ll be living? It’s pretty cool. It’s like living inside a museum.” I stood and took my wife’s hand, and Stormy led the way towards a door. The girls trailed behind us.
Behind me I clearly heard an agent saying, “Jumper, Jelly Jar, Trouble One, and Trouble Two on the move…”
I looked at my wife. “Let’s go inside, Jelly Jar!”
That earned me a vigorous finger wagging. “You are having too much fun with that name!”
We were greeted by the Chief Usher, Mr. Walters. An usher makes it sound like somebody trying to keep the groom sober at a wedding, or a bell boy, but at the White House he basically runs what is effectively a small hotel and museum. The Buckmans were simply the guests. I had met him when I moved in the beginning of the week, after the Bushes had left, and had gotten enough of a tour so that I could find my bedroom and the bathroom. Otherwise, I just followed people around who seemed to know where they were going. Mr. Walters gave us an excellent tour, enough so that by the time we got upstairs the twins were over their initial snit and were going ‘Oooh’ and ‘Ahhh’ over everything. At one point he was taking us through the Blue Room and I commented it was named after President Blue. I could see him working to keep from laughing, as Marilyn and the twins looked at each other and then asked when he had been President. I just moved them along at that point.
We ended up on the Second Floor, which was where the Presidential apartment is. Marilyn and I had a very nice bedroom suite down at the west side, with a sitting room, dressing room, bathroom, and so forth. The Oval Room (not to be confused with the Oval Office) was set up as our living room, and allowed entry outside, to the Truman Balcony over the Portico. On the backside, across a central hallway, were the dining room, a small kitchen, and bedrooms for the kids and guests. If I wanted to rent out the White House to paying guests, which is effectively what the Clintons had done, the Lincoln and Queen’s Bedrooms were down the hall.
Mr. Waters told the girls they were free to wander around, and to ask anybody they saw for help if they needed help, and they took off with Stormy like they had jets up their butts. He took that opportunity to introduce some of the more senior staff, like the Butler and the Chef, to Marilyn and me. We were also presented with our recommended menu for the week. The Chef would suggest healthy choices and we could pick and choose. For me this was pretty simple. Breakfast would be cereal if I had it, lunch would be either something from the Mess or a business lunch with others, and dinner would be whatever Marilyn told me I was eating. When I was home, I could do the cooking. Otherwise I was asked if I had any favorite recipes, and I promised to bring the family cookbook in.
I was also told that my personal billing would be done on a monthly basis. While anything we ate at official dinners and such was compliments of a grateful nation, our personal meals we paid for. It helps to be rich when you are the President. I was probably also going to be billed for Marilyn and the girls flying around or being taken somewhere. I simply told them to send the bills to my accountants.
The twins and the dog returned about a half hour later, the bunch of them looking like drowned rats! “What in the world happened to you two?!” I asked.
Holly answered unhappily. “We found the swimming pool out back and Stormy decided to go swimming!”
“And you two couldn’t wait to change into swimsuits?”
“No! We had to get down and help Stormy out of the pool and she managed to pull us in with her!” explained Holly.
Marilyn just started laughing, and I buried my head in my hands. “What a pack of idiots!” I muttered. Stormy loved swimming in a pool, but at home we had some steps built into the pool, so little kids could climb out. Our dogs had all been happy to climb out that way. I was going to have to get something built for Stormy. A Wet-Vac would also be useful, since she could carry gallons in her coat. I glanced over at the girls, who were arguing with their mother that it wasn’t funny. “I remember hearing about that pool. I think Jerry Ford had it built. The old pool used to be inside, in the West Wing, and when Johnson was the President he used to go skinny-dipping in it.”
The looks on their faces were priceless.
“OH MY GOD!” exclaimed Holly.
“I am never going swimming again!” added her sister.
“I need to take a shower now!” finished Holly. They stormed down to their rooms to change, followed by the dog, who they loudly blamed for their predicament.
I simply shook my head at my wife, and took her hand and led her downstairs. We went outside and walked around the place. It’s gorgeous. I told Marilyn we would have to bring down H&A Yard Work for a professional critique. She also suggested her family. I told her that her parents could sleep in President Blue’s Room, and got an elbow to the ribs.
After dinner the girls went exploring some more, and Marilyn joined me in the Oval Room. I was just staring out over the Truman Balcony, with Stormy snoring on a couch nearby. “You look like you’re a million miles away,” she said.
I turned to her and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Sorry you took the job?”
I snorted at that. “The thing that gets me is why anybody ever wants it in the first place! Grown men, guys who should know better, spend years running for the job and would do anything to get it. They would happily sacrifice their daughters on an altar if it could get them a vote. And for what? It is totally thankless.” She laughed at that. “Yeah, you laugh now. You’re going to be sleeping alone tonight. I need to make a call at one in the morning.”
“What? Why?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” Marilyn asked, not angrily, but out of curiosity.
“Because I can’t. There are things that I do now, things that are secret, and that I can’t tell people who shouldn’t be told. You’re one of those people.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
I took a second to answer that. “Marilyn, I would trust you with my life. However, I am now responsible for the lives of 300 million other people, and I can’t put that trust on anybody else. Let me ask you something. Could you order somebody killed?”
She recoiled at that. “Oh my God, NO! How can you ask that!?”
“Because I have to be able to do that. In a matter of days or weeks I am going to send our country into war. Hundreds, no, thousands of people will die as a result of that,” I told her.
“Oh my God! Charlie?”
I shook my head. “No, he should be okay, him and Jack. Still the time might come when I have to order him into battle. You could never do that.”
Marilyn shook her head. “No, of course not. I hate that you have to do this. Why do you have to kill all those people? Why can’t they just leave us alone?”
I smiled sadly. Marilyn was a good person, but she saw the world as she wanted it to be, and I saw the world as it was. “Two sides of the same question, hun. I have to start this war and kill them so I can try and convince them to leave us alone. If I could figure a way to do it differently, I would be happy to.” I snorted and laughed derisively. “Hell, I used to kill retail, and now I get to do it wholesale! Hell of a world, ain’t it?!”