Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,36
that could draw my attention away from her.
She heads to the table already set with silverware and china plates, and places the flowers gently by her place setting. With hands on her hips, she looks around, “Surely there’s a vase here somewhere.”
There are several cabinets in the dining room, but I’m not about to get up and rummage through them. Anna apparently doesn’t want to, either. She sits down, and I follow. “I’ll find one after breakfast,” she says. “I want them in my office, anyway.”
It’s not until she speaks those words that it hits me the flowers have to go somewhere after breakfast. Not that this is new knowledge, just more proof being around her messes with my head. I’d never thought past breakfast.
Two servers enter the room. Their uniforms are pressed and sharp, not a wrinkle anywhere to be seen. One pours us each a cup of coffee while the other places a plate of delicious-looking Eggs Benedict in front of each of us.
“Shall I put those in a vase for you, Madame President?” the coffee pouring server asks with a nod toward the flowers.
“That would be lovely, Patrica,” Anna says, “And if it’s not too much, could you find someone to take them to my office?”
“I’ll get right on it, Madame President.” Patrica scoops up the flowers with her free hand and holds them up in inspection. I guess they meet her approval, because she nods and gives me a thumbs-up Anna can’t see. As she heads back to the kitchen, I realize I’m screwed.
The White House and its numerous employees are like a small town, and like any small town, there is a lot of gossip. I have little doubt that within two hours everyone under the roof will know I gave Anna flowers.
Oh, well, there are worse things to be known for.
We are about halfway into our breakfast, and we’ve only been exchanging small talk and favorite hockey teams. It’s pleasant, and for once we aren’t arguing. But I can’t believe Anna invited me to breakfast so we could discuss the potential for the DC hockey team to make the playoffs.
I wait until there’s a lull in the conversation. “As enjoyable as this is, I’m sure you had a reason for inviting me to breakfast.” After all, I haven’t heard of anyone else in the Press Pool being asked to breakfast. And with that group, I’d know. No way could anyone have been able to keep that quiet.
Anna shifts in her seat and I do my best not to stare. I can’t figure out what’s happening with her. We’ve been together this morning for maybe thirty minutes, no more than forty-five, and not only has she dropped her mask, but now she’s shifting in her seat. I’ve never seen her do either before and I can’t help but think I’m the reason.
I think back to our talk in the Oval Office and I groan internally. I’d made her admit she wanted me. What had I been thinking? She probably invited me to breakfast so she could tell me I had to quit or else she’d tell George I’d been harassing her. To add insult to injury, I brought her flowers this morning. I clench my teeth. How could I have been so stupid?
It’s too late to do anything now and I’m certain she’s getting ready to tell me because I’d just all but begged her to get it going.
She puts her fork beside her plate and clears her throat. I calmly place my hands in my lap and prepare to hear her ultimatum.
“I know I was an ass in the Oval Office, and I’m truly sorry. I said a lot of shitty things and hurt you. I’m not like that.” She takes a deep breath. “However, I did mean what I said on Air Force One, and if you don’t mind telling me, I’d like to know why you aren’t on my Supreme Court.”
My mind tries to process she’s offering a real apology and not issuing an ultimatum. It’s so much of a shock, it takes me a second or two to realize what she’s asked me. I hesitate before saying anything.
Now that I’m who I am in the world of broadcast journalism, I’m rarely asked about my time in law school. Even then if someone brings it up, I keep it brief by saying it was a personal family issue. I’ve received a few raised eyebrows with my answer, but so far no one’s