Its classified, p.26
It's Classified, page 26
“I understand.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Dale
Dale stood in the hall outside Melanie’s office shifting from one foot to the other. She’d sat on a beige sofa in the waiting area for nearly half an hour, but once she’d read and reread the assortment of newspapers and newsmagazines, she’d grown impatient. She’d stepped into the hallway to check her cell phone messages and was listening to a long voice mail from one of the speechwriters when Melanie’s assistant, Annie, stepped into the hallway.
“Miss Smith, I’m so sorry about that. The secretary is ready for you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Dale answered.
Annie led Dale back through the waiting area and into the formal office of the secretary of defense. Melanie was the country’s twenty-fifth secretary of defense and the first woman to lead that department. As White House chief of staff, she’d been at the same “rank” as all the cabinet members, but some still saw her appointment as a political reward for one of President Kramer’s cronies. Melanie had refused efforts by her allies to aggressively counter those attacks. She’d said at the time that she would let her performance speak for itself. So far, she’d proven that fifteen years in the West Wing was perfectly adequate preparation for the post.
Her new office lacked the splendor of the West Wing offices, but it was formidable. Dale noticed a small photo of Melanie and Brian dressed up for the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.
“Hi Dale, come on in. I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long,” Melanie said. She was friendly but not warm. Dale still wasn’t sure what she was doing there.
“It’s no problem at all.”
Melanie walked over to a small conference table and took a seat.
“How’s everything going?”
Dale contemplated how to answer the seemingly simple question.
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Up to you,” Melanie said. Dale thought she saw a slight glint in her eye.
Dale stiffened.
“Dale, let’s not waste our time bullshitting each other. I called you over here to see if you’re all right.”
Dale exhaled for the first time since she’d entered the office.
“I don’t know.”
Melanie was watching her closely.
“I think things are about to get really strange on my side of the river.”
Melanie nodded. She looked like she was thinking about whether to tell Dale something. Dale had a feeling she knew what it was. On her way over, Michael Robbins had called to give Dale a “heads-up.” He was hearing rumblings about a White House whistle-blower who alleged that the vice president had a nervous breakdown and that the White House had covered it up. Dale was watching Melanie now and waiting for her to say something. Melanie didn’t blink very often, and it made Dale blink more than usual. She squirmed in her seat. Melanie made her nervous. Despite the sordid personal history between Dale and the president, Charlotte had always been nice to her. Melanie, on the other hand, had never let down her guard.
“Listen, Dale, it’s probably best that we speak in hypothetical terms.”
“Of course.”
“Hypothetically speaking, if there were something really wrong with the veep, who would know?”
“Ralph, Marcus, obviously. Maybe Karen?”
“And would someone in your position know?”
“Someone in my position would probably see enough to know that something was wrong, but I don’t think the person who deals with the press would be fully read in.”
“And how are we using the word fully?”
Dale leaned back in the chair and thought for a few seconds about how to answer the question.
“I guess I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course, that while the situation may now seem obvious, it was never explained to me. I just sort of pieced together one bizarre fact after another and figured it out.”
Melanie pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. Dale watched her walk slowly toward her desk and sit down behind it. She wasn’t sure if she should stay at the table or move to the chair in front of the desk. Melanie had her back to Dale. After a couple of minutes, she turned and faced Dale again.
“Dale, you and I have never spent much time together, but I know Brian has always had a lot of respect for you.”
“It’s mutual,” Dale said.
Melanie smiled. She was obviously proud of Brian, which Dale thought was a surprisingly vulnerable reaction from her. “Believe it or not, Dale, Charlotte admires and respects you a great deal as well. She thinks you are a rare talent, professionally speaking, of course.”
Dale wasn’t sure if the joke was for her benefit or Melanie’s, but she smiled back.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Melanie leaned forward.
“Dale, I’m going to give you a piece of advice, for whatever it’s worth, and you can take it or leave it.”
“I appreciate any advice,” Dale said.
“That place is about to become a snake pit. Everyone will have their own private lawyers. No one will be in charge. You’re going to get press calls about things you never thought imaginable. You’ll run around, trying to find answers to those questions, but you’ll figure out pretty quickly that the whole place has been turned upside down. No one will give you a straight answer about anything. The newspapers will be filled with anonymous quotes from the personal lawyers who are trying to portray their clients in the best light and position them for deals.”
“Deals?”
“You know, immunity, pleas, whatever. And Ralph will not go down quietly, if he is, you know, hypothetically speaking, the one who masterminded a cover up of whatever is wrong with the veep and gave out the orders. How is your relationship with Ralph?”
“Strained, at best,” Dale answered.
“He pulled you into this?”
Dale nodded as dread filled every last muscle and nerve ending in her body.
Melanie opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a stack of business cards held together with a rubber band. “Old school, I know,” she said. Melanie found whatever card she was looking for and picked up the phone. Dale could see that she’d dialed a 202 number.
“Is he there? Please tell him it’s Melanie Kingston and it’s rather urgent.”
She didn’t look at Dale as she held the line. Whoever she was calling picked up the phone in about three seconds.
“Jimbo. I’m sorry to pull you out of whatever you were doing, but I need a favor. What are you doing tonight? I need you to sit down with someone this evening. I think she’s going to need your help. Can she come to your office around eight?”
Melanie wrote something down on the legal pad in front of her and underlined it.
“I’ll tell her. Yes, you need to come to the house for dinner soon. I would love that. I will tell him. Thank you. Oh, her name is Dale. Dale Smith.”
Dale held her breath and imagined a thousand things that Melanie’s lawyer friend could have been saying at the other end of the line. Whatever it was, Melanie didn’t react.
She hung up and tore the page off the legal pad. There was an address and instructions about how to get into a K Street office after hours.
“Jim Moffet is expecting you tonight at his office at eight. Do not tell anyone where you are going. Do you understand? Do not take a White House car and do not let anyone see you walk into the building. Tell Jim everything.”
Dale was too stunned to say anything other than thank you. She exited Melanie’s office and headed out to the town car that had brought her over the bridge from the District of Columbia to the Pentagon building in Virginia. The sky had darkened, and it was cold for October. Dale wished she had brought a coat. She hadn’t loosened her grip yet on the paper Melanie had handed her, but as she settled into the backseat and asked the driver to take her back to West Exec, she unfolded it. Melanie had made an appointment for Dale to meet with the former deputy attorney general. He was now a very prominent attorney in town, best known for defending the former Speaker of the House for alleged campaign finance violations. For once, Dale didn’t check her BlackBerry or phone for messages. She spent the entire ride back to the White House trying to figure out why Melanie would want to help her and how she knew so much about what was coming.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Charlotte
Charlotte read the statement for a tenth time. She’d crossed most of it out with her thick black Sharpie and scribbled edits in the margins. She had proceeded to edit her own edits, turning the document into a messy page of black hieroglyphics. The statement was only half a page, but it would be replayed more than any other words she’d uttered as president. She sighed and tried to decipher her new draft.
The plan was for her to read the statement in the Rose Garden in front of the White House press corps. Her personal attorney wanted her to say that she “welcomed” the investigation. Charlotte thought it was ludicrous, but she’d agreed to listen to him, for now at least. She left the word in the text. No president ever really wants the curtains lifted on the sometimes distasteful reality of a modern executive branch. The American presidency was not designed for twenty-four-hour cable news coverage and embedded journalists. It was designed for a different time—an era in which mystique and reverence for the country’s leaders was believed to contribute to the public good at least as much as transparency and infinite debate.
Besides, the announcement would guarantee that her White House would grind to a screeching halt. All crises divert the attention of White House staff, but the appointment of a special counsel causes paralysis.
Charlotte sighed again. For most of the senior staff, the anxiety was already just beneath the surface. Charlotte had been warned in advance not to speak to anyone about their interviews. Her personal attorney was the only person she was allowed to speak to about the investigation without running the risk that the conversation would ultimately end up in the public record. Charlotte glanced at a memo outlining the steps that the small circle of advisors who knew about the special counsel had taken. A separate unit had been set up in the White House legal office to deal with the logistical coordination, such as document production and the scheduling of interviews, between the White House staff and the special counsel. A mid-level press person had been assigned to deal with all press calls. The press secretary would not field questions about the special counsel from the podium. Despite the steps to wall off the unpleasantness, it would pollute everything.
Charlotte looked up and noticed Sam standing in the doorway to the Oval Office.
“Madam President?”
“Yes, Sam, come on in.”
“Mr. Kramer just arrived at the residence. Should I tell him you’re on your way over?”
“Uh, in a minute. Let’s try calling Melanie again, first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam disappeared and then reappeared seconds later.
“Madam President, Annie said she was wrapping up a meeting with Senators Dean and Kirk.”
“Mmmn hmmn.”
“Would you like me to ask Annie to interrupt?”
“No, just ask her to have Melanie call me when she’s done.”
“Yes ma’am.” Sam returned a moment later.
“Annie asked if Melanie could stop by on her way home. Should I tell her you have a dinner tonight?”
“No, no. Tell her that’s fine. I’ll wait for her here.”
Sam stood in the doorway awkwardly.
“I’ll call Peter,” Charlotte said. Sam looked relieved.
Charlotte had Peter walk the dogs and pushed their dinner back to nine P.M. While she waited for Melanie, she flipped through a report from her director of OMB until her eyes glazed over. She signed a stack of photos of herself and was about to turn on the news when Sam opened the door for Melanie.
“Hi,” Charlotte said. “You’re busier than me these days.”
Melanie offered a tense smile. “How are you holding up?” She sat down on one of the sofas.
“Oh, god, I’m completely fine. I’m just worried about the impact on our people and on our agenda. The first year of a second term is the only opportunity to get anything done.”
Melanie nodded in agreement.
“How was your meeting?” Charlotte took a seat on the sofa across from Melanie.
“My meeting?” Melanie’s face was blank.
“Annie said you were meeting with Dean and Kirk?”
“Oh, that meeting. It was good. I pitched them on procurement reform and they seemed interested.” She recovered quickly, but, obviously, Melanie hadn’t been meeting with Senators Dean and Kirk.
“Think they’ll cosponsor a bill?”
“I hope so.” Melanie averted her glance.
Charlotte was about to ask about Brian when Melanie raised the investigation.
“Listen, I’ve been advised not to discuss Tara or any of the conversations you and I have had about her from the time of her selection as your running mate onward. I’m going to have to testify about all of it, obviously.” Melanie’s voice sounded tight.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I know this takes you away from other important things,” Charlotte acknowledged.
Melanie didn’t dismiss Charlotte’s apology as unnecessary. “Hopefully, this whole thing will blow over quickly. I’ve been thinking that maybe we shouldn’t see each other outside of our official interactions until things settle down a bit.”
It felt like a breakup. “You’re right, of course.” Charlotte didn’t know what else to say.
“I probably shouldn’t even be here. Brian is digging around on the report that surfaced during the last weekend of the campaign about her stint in rehab as we speak,” Melanie explained.
Charlotte looked puzzled.
“Remember? The one that Tara assured us was false? Now it appears likely that I lied about it during the campaign, but hey, what’s a little white lie between friends, right?” Melanie sounded angry.
“Melanie, you communicated what we knew to be true at the time.”
“Don’t worry. That’s what I plan to tell the special counsel.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together and decided to let Melanie blow off a little steam. She leaned back in the sofa and uncrossed her arms.
“Charlotte, you should also know that the National Enquirer just posted a story online quoting the wife of an Italian doctor who claims to have treated Tara while she was studying abroad there in law school. Did you know about any of this?”
“Jesus Christ, Melanie. The National Enquirer? Is that a trusted news source now?”
“Charlotte, they’ve been right about more things than you could ever imagine. And they chase the stories the mainstream press doesn’t have the guts to pursue.”
“I can’t believe you’re sitting here defending the tabloids,” Charlotte countered.
Melanie stared out the window toward the South Lawn. She seemed to be trying to cool herself down before she spoke again.
“Don’t think for a second that I fail to understand the gravity of this for your presidency,” Melanie said.
“I don’t think there’s anyone who understands the gravity of the situation better than you, Melanie.”
Melanie nodded. “This is going to be very complicated for me with Brian covering the story and everything I’ve done to distance myself from anything remotely political over at the Pentagon.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, Melanie. I really am.”
“I know you are.” Melanie stood up and walked toward the door. She wore an expression of thinly veiled disgust. Charlotte fought the urge to feel offended. She understood that Melanie was reacting to a jumble of emotions that she probably couldn’t articulate if she tried. In part, she was furious that she’d allowed someone like Tara to dismantle the image she’d worked so hard to salvage for Charlotte. It was as much about someone “undoing” her hard work as anything else. But Charlotte suspected she was also reacting to her own lifetime of misplaced priorities. Melanie felt as though she was owed exactly what she’d put into the job, but that wasn’t how a life in politics was calculated. A lifetime of good and noble deeds could be erased with heartbreaking consequences in an instant. They’d both learned that lesson the painful way when Roger died.
Melanie turned to face her before she got to the door. “I wanted to tell you something else. Brian and I got engaged last weekend.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I know the timing couldn’t be worse, but I didn’t want you to hear it somewhere else.”
“Mel, I’m thrilled for you. I really am. And please congratulate Brian for me, too. He’s very lucky.”
“Thanks. We’ll all celebrate after this has died down a bit. I’ve got to meet Brian at a dinner. I’ll see you later this week at the NSC meeting?”
“Yes, you will. Thanks for stopping by, and congratulations, again.”
“Have a good night, Madam President.”
As Charlotte watched Melanie flee from the Oval Office she steeled herself for the ugliness ahead. Melanie wouldn’t be the only one. Idealistic aides were the most loyal and hardworking, but they had a tendency to turn on you with a vengeance when they became disillusioned. Charlotte said good night to Sam and made her way slowly toward the residence where Peter was still waiting for her. As she neared the door that separated the West Wing from the East Wing, she noticed Melanie sitting on a bench near the back of the Rose Garden. She approached the bench and saw Melanie holding her BlackBerry phone. She had a strange look on her face—one that Charlotte had never seen before.
“Mel, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?”
“When did you figure it out?”
“Figure what out?”
“Come on,” Melanie pleaded.
Charlotte sighed deeply. Melanie wanted to know how long she’d left someone who was unfit for office in a position of power. For the first time, Charlotte suspected that it was possible Melanie was recording their conversation for the special counsel or for Brian, or for someone else. She steadied herself and stood there for another minute. Melanie wouldn’t look at her.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Dale
Dale stood in the hall outside Melanie’s office shifting from one foot to the other. She’d sat on a beige sofa in the waiting area for nearly half an hour, but once she’d read and reread the assortment of newspapers and newsmagazines, she’d grown impatient. She’d stepped into the hallway to check her cell phone messages and was listening to a long voice mail from one of the speechwriters when Melanie’s assistant, Annie, stepped into the hallway.
“Miss Smith, I’m so sorry about that. The secretary is ready for you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Dale answered.
Annie led Dale back through the waiting area and into the formal office of the secretary of defense. Melanie was the country’s twenty-fifth secretary of defense and the first woman to lead that department. As White House chief of staff, she’d been at the same “rank” as all the cabinet members, but some still saw her appointment as a political reward for one of President Kramer’s cronies. Melanie had refused efforts by her allies to aggressively counter those attacks. She’d said at the time that she would let her performance speak for itself. So far, she’d proven that fifteen years in the West Wing was perfectly adequate preparation for the post.
Her new office lacked the splendor of the West Wing offices, but it was formidable. Dale noticed a small photo of Melanie and Brian dressed up for the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.
“Hi Dale, come on in. I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long,” Melanie said. She was friendly but not warm. Dale still wasn’t sure what she was doing there.
“It’s no problem at all.”
Melanie walked over to a small conference table and took a seat.
“How’s everything going?”
Dale contemplated how to answer the seemingly simple question.
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Up to you,” Melanie said. Dale thought she saw a slight glint in her eye.
Dale stiffened.
“Dale, let’s not waste our time bullshitting each other. I called you over here to see if you’re all right.”
Dale exhaled for the first time since she’d entered the office.
“I don’t know.”
Melanie was watching her closely.
“I think things are about to get really strange on my side of the river.”
Melanie nodded. She looked like she was thinking about whether to tell Dale something. Dale had a feeling she knew what it was. On her way over, Michael Robbins had called to give Dale a “heads-up.” He was hearing rumblings about a White House whistle-blower who alleged that the vice president had a nervous breakdown and that the White House had covered it up. Dale was watching Melanie now and waiting for her to say something. Melanie didn’t blink very often, and it made Dale blink more than usual. She squirmed in her seat. Melanie made her nervous. Despite the sordid personal history between Dale and the president, Charlotte had always been nice to her. Melanie, on the other hand, had never let down her guard.
“Listen, Dale, it’s probably best that we speak in hypothetical terms.”
“Of course.”
“Hypothetically speaking, if there were something really wrong with the veep, who would know?”
“Ralph, Marcus, obviously. Maybe Karen?”
“And would someone in your position know?”
“Someone in my position would probably see enough to know that something was wrong, but I don’t think the person who deals with the press would be fully read in.”
“And how are we using the word fully?”
Dale leaned back in the chair and thought for a few seconds about how to answer the question.
“I guess I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course, that while the situation may now seem obvious, it was never explained to me. I just sort of pieced together one bizarre fact after another and figured it out.”
Melanie pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. Dale watched her walk slowly toward her desk and sit down behind it. She wasn’t sure if she should stay at the table or move to the chair in front of the desk. Melanie had her back to Dale. After a couple of minutes, she turned and faced Dale again.
“Dale, you and I have never spent much time together, but I know Brian has always had a lot of respect for you.”
“It’s mutual,” Dale said.
Melanie smiled. She was obviously proud of Brian, which Dale thought was a surprisingly vulnerable reaction from her. “Believe it or not, Dale, Charlotte admires and respects you a great deal as well. She thinks you are a rare talent, professionally speaking, of course.”
Dale wasn’t sure if the joke was for her benefit or Melanie’s, but she smiled back.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Melanie leaned forward.
“Dale, I’m going to give you a piece of advice, for whatever it’s worth, and you can take it or leave it.”
“I appreciate any advice,” Dale said.
“That place is about to become a snake pit. Everyone will have their own private lawyers. No one will be in charge. You’re going to get press calls about things you never thought imaginable. You’ll run around, trying to find answers to those questions, but you’ll figure out pretty quickly that the whole place has been turned upside down. No one will give you a straight answer about anything. The newspapers will be filled with anonymous quotes from the personal lawyers who are trying to portray their clients in the best light and position them for deals.”
“Deals?”
“You know, immunity, pleas, whatever. And Ralph will not go down quietly, if he is, you know, hypothetically speaking, the one who masterminded a cover up of whatever is wrong with the veep and gave out the orders. How is your relationship with Ralph?”
“Strained, at best,” Dale answered.
“He pulled you into this?”
Dale nodded as dread filled every last muscle and nerve ending in her body.
Melanie opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a stack of business cards held together with a rubber band. “Old school, I know,” she said. Melanie found whatever card she was looking for and picked up the phone. Dale could see that she’d dialed a 202 number.
“Is he there? Please tell him it’s Melanie Kingston and it’s rather urgent.”
She didn’t look at Dale as she held the line. Whoever she was calling picked up the phone in about three seconds.
“Jimbo. I’m sorry to pull you out of whatever you were doing, but I need a favor. What are you doing tonight? I need you to sit down with someone this evening. I think she’s going to need your help. Can she come to your office around eight?”
Melanie wrote something down on the legal pad in front of her and underlined it.
“I’ll tell her. Yes, you need to come to the house for dinner soon. I would love that. I will tell him. Thank you. Oh, her name is Dale. Dale Smith.”
Dale held her breath and imagined a thousand things that Melanie’s lawyer friend could have been saying at the other end of the line. Whatever it was, Melanie didn’t react.
She hung up and tore the page off the legal pad. There was an address and instructions about how to get into a K Street office after hours.
“Jim Moffet is expecting you tonight at his office at eight. Do not tell anyone where you are going. Do you understand? Do not take a White House car and do not let anyone see you walk into the building. Tell Jim everything.”
Dale was too stunned to say anything other than thank you. She exited Melanie’s office and headed out to the town car that had brought her over the bridge from the District of Columbia to the Pentagon building in Virginia. The sky had darkened, and it was cold for October. Dale wished she had brought a coat. She hadn’t loosened her grip yet on the paper Melanie had handed her, but as she settled into the backseat and asked the driver to take her back to West Exec, she unfolded it. Melanie had made an appointment for Dale to meet with the former deputy attorney general. He was now a very prominent attorney in town, best known for defending the former Speaker of the House for alleged campaign finance violations. For once, Dale didn’t check her BlackBerry or phone for messages. She spent the entire ride back to the White House trying to figure out why Melanie would want to help her and how she knew so much about what was coming.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Charlotte
Charlotte read the statement for a tenth time. She’d crossed most of it out with her thick black Sharpie and scribbled edits in the margins. She had proceeded to edit her own edits, turning the document into a messy page of black hieroglyphics. The statement was only half a page, but it would be replayed more than any other words she’d uttered as president. She sighed and tried to decipher her new draft.
The plan was for her to read the statement in the Rose Garden in front of the White House press corps. Her personal attorney wanted her to say that she “welcomed” the investigation. Charlotte thought it was ludicrous, but she’d agreed to listen to him, for now at least. She left the word in the text. No president ever really wants the curtains lifted on the sometimes distasteful reality of a modern executive branch. The American presidency was not designed for twenty-four-hour cable news coverage and embedded journalists. It was designed for a different time—an era in which mystique and reverence for the country’s leaders was believed to contribute to the public good at least as much as transparency and infinite debate.
Besides, the announcement would guarantee that her White House would grind to a screeching halt. All crises divert the attention of White House staff, but the appointment of a special counsel causes paralysis.
Charlotte sighed again. For most of the senior staff, the anxiety was already just beneath the surface. Charlotte had been warned in advance not to speak to anyone about their interviews. Her personal attorney was the only person she was allowed to speak to about the investigation without running the risk that the conversation would ultimately end up in the public record. Charlotte glanced at a memo outlining the steps that the small circle of advisors who knew about the special counsel had taken. A separate unit had been set up in the White House legal office to deal with the logistical coordination, such as document production and the scheduling of interviews, between the White House staff and the special counsel. A mid-level press person had been assigned to deal with all press calls. The press secretary would not field questions about the special counsel from the podium. Despite the steps to wall off the unpleasantness, it would pollute everything.
Charlotte looked up and noticed Sam standing in the doorway to the Oval Office.
“Madam President?”
“Yes, Sam, come on in.”
“Mr. Kramer just arrived at the residence. Should I tell him you’re on your way over?”
“Uh, in a minute. Let’s try calling Melanie again, first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam disappeared and then reappeared seconds later.
“Madam President, Annie said she was wrapping up a meeting with Senators Dean and Kirk.”
“Mmmn hmmn.”
“Would you like me to ask Annie to interrupt?”
“No, just ask her to have Melanie call me when she’s done.”
“Yes ma’am.” Sam returned a moment later.
“Annie asked if Melanie could stop by on her way home. Should I tell her you have a dinner tonight?”
“No, no. Tell her that’s fine. I’ll wait for her here.”
Sam stood in the doorway awkwardly.
“I’ll call Peter,” Charlotte said. Sam looked relieved.
Charlotte had Peter walk the dogs and pushed their dinner back to nine P.M. While she waited for Melanie, she flipped through a report from her director of OMB until her eyes glazed over. She signed a stack of photos of herself and was about to turn on the news when Sam opened the door for Melanie.
“Hi,” Charlotte said. “You’re busier than me these days.”
Melanie offered a tense smile. “How are you holding up?” She sat down on one of the sofas.
“Oh, god, I’m completely fine. I’m just worried about the impact on our people and on our agenda. The first year of a second term is the only opportunity to get anything done.”
Melanie nodded in agreement.
“How was your meeting?” Charlotte took a seat on the sofa across from Melanie.
“My meeting?” Melanie’s face was blank.
“Annie said you were meeting with Dean and Kirk?”
“Oh, that meeting. It was good. I pitched them on procurement reform and they seemed interested.” She recovered quickly, but, obviously, Melanie hadn’t been meeting with Senators Dean and Kirk.
“Think they’ll cosponsor a bill?”
“I hope so.” Melanie averted her glance.
Charlotte was about to ask about Brian when Melanie raised the investigation.
“Listen, I’ve been advised not to discuss Tara or any of the conversations you and I have had about her from the time of her selection as your running mate onward. I’m going to have to testify about all of it, obviously.” Melanie’s voice sounded tight.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I know this takes you away from other important things,” Charlotte acknowledged.
Melanie didn’t dismiss Charlotte’s apology as unnecessary. “Hopefully, this whole thing will blow over quickly. I’ve been thinking that maybe we shouldn’t see each other outside of our official interactions until things settle down a bit.”
It felt like a breakup. “You’re right, of course.” Charlotte didn’t know what else to say.
“I probably shouldn’t even be here. Brian is digging around on the report that surfaced during the last weekend of the campaign about her stint in rehab as we speak,” Melanie explained.
Charlotte looked puzzled.
“Remember? The one that Tara assured us was false? Now it appears likely that I lied about it during the campaign, but hey, what’s a little white lie between friends, right?” Melanie sounded angry.
“Melanie, you communicated what we knew to be true at the time.”
“Don’t worry. That’s what I plan to tell the special counsel.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together and decided to let Melanie blow off a little steam. She leaned back in the sofa and uncrossed her arms.
“Charlotte, you should also know that the National Enquirer just posted a story online quoting the wife of an Italian doctor who claims to have treated Tara while she was studying abroad there in law school. Did you know about any of this?”
“Jesus Christ, Melanie. The National Enquirer? Is that a trusted news source now?”
“Charlotte, they’ve been right about more things than you could ever imagine. And they chase the stories the mainstream press doesn’t have the guts to pursue.”
“I can’t believe you’re sitting here defending the tabloids,” Charlotte countered.
Melanie stared out the window toward the South Lawn. She seemed to be trying to cool herself down before she spoke again.
“Don’t think for a second that I fail to understand the gravity of this for your presidency,” Melanie said.
“I don’t think there’s anyone who understands the gravity of the situation better than you, Melanie.”
Melanie nodded. “This is going to be very complicated for me with Brian covering the story and everything I’ve done to distance myself from anything remotely political over at the Pentagon.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, Melanie. I really am.”
“I know you are.” Melanie stood up and walked toward the door. She wore an expression of thinly veiled disgust. Charlotte fought the urge to feel offended. She understood that Melanie was reacting to a jumble of emotions that she probably couldn’t articulate if she tried. In part, she was furious that she’d allowed someone like Tara to dismantle the image she’d worked so hard to salvage for Charlotte. It was as much about someone “undoing” her hard work as anything else. But Charlotte suspected she was also reacting to her own lifetime of misplaced priorities. Melanie felt as though she was owed exactly what she’d put into the job, but that wasn’t how a life in politics was calculated. A lifetime of good and noble deeds could be erased with heartbreaking consequences in an instant. They’d both learned that lesson the painful way when Roger died.
Melanie turned to face her before she got to the door. “I wanted to tell you something else. Brian and I got engaged last weekend.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I know the timing couldn’t be worse, but I didn’t want you to hear it somewhere else.”
“Mel, I’m thrilled for you. I really am. And please congratulate Brian for me, too. He’s very lucky.”
“Thanks. We’ll all celebrate after this has died down a bit. I’ve got to meet Brian at a dinner. I’ll see you later this week at the NSC meeting?”
“Yes, you will. Thanks for stopping by, and congratulations, again.”
“Have a good night, Madam President.”
As Charlotte watched Melanie flee from the Oval Office she steeled herself for the ugliness ahead. Melanie wouldn’t be the only one. Idealistic aides were the most loyal and hardworking, but they had a tendency to turn on you with a vengeance when they became disillusioned. Charlotte said good night to Sam and made her way slowly toward the residence where Peter was still waiting for her. As she neared the door that separated the West Wing from the East Wing, she noticed Melanie sitting on a bench near the back of the Rose Garden. She approached the bench and saw Melanie holding her BlackBerry phone. She had a strange look on her face—one that Charlotte had never seen before.
“Mel, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?”
“When did you figure it out?”
“Figure what out?”
“Come on,” Melanie pleaded.
Charlotte sighed deeply. Melanie wanted to know how long she’d left someone who was unfit for office in a position of power. For the first time, Charlotte suspected that it was possible Melanie was recording their conversation for the special counsel or for Brian, or for someone else. She steadied herself and stood there for another minute. Melanie wouldn’t look at her.
