Happy Endings

by Sally Quinn

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  To my mother and father, and to Ben and to Quinn, the four people I love most

  I.T.W.W.W.

  1

  “I‘m scared, I’m always scared. There are just too many nuts out there.”

  Sadie Grey was sitting in her private study in the family quarters of the White House talking to her press secretary, Jenny Stern.

  “I think you should try not to overreact, Sadie. My God, the President couldn’t be more secure. You’ve practically got a battalion traveling with him now every time he sets foot out of the White House. It’s almost a joke.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Jen. I know how many threats there are against Rosey, not to mention me and even Willie, for lord’s sake.”

  She had jumped up from the chair and walked to the window overlooking Lafayette Park, her back to Jenny. She didn’t want her to see the tears.

  Even in the sweltering June heat the protesters with their placards were standing around on the sidewalk facing the White House, a constant reminder of her vulnerability.

  Jenny was taken aback. Sadie had never spoken to her in that tone and Jenny couldn’t remember her being so overwrought since before the election. At the time, Sadie was having an affair with Desmond Shaw, and she had every reason to be overwrought.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jenny. “I didn’t realize you were so upset.”

  “Look at them out there,” said Sadie. “Any one of those lunatics could have a gun or a bazooka. They could fire right in here and kill me this very instant. You call that protection? Every time I send Willie out to his play group with Monica I’m terrified I’ll never see him again, that some maniac will blow up his car or kidnap him. I just can’t bear it.”

  Jenny stood up and went over to Sadie, taking her by the arms.

  “Sadie, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this. What on earth brought this on?”

  Jenny guided her over to the sofa. Sadie slumped down.

  “I’ve been having these awful dreams every night that something terrible is going to happen.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know exactly and I’m afraid to even talk about it.”

  “Have you told Rosey?”

  “He knows I’ve been having nightmares. I wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he has to shake me and calm me down. I just say I had a bad dream and he accepts that and goes back to sleep. But they are so vivid and they go on night after night. I can’t help believing in them.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Sadie leaned back against the cushion.

  “We’re standing somewhere, in a field or a garden, surrounded by flowers, soft pastel summer flowers. We’re laughing and happy. There is a green gauzy curtain or something and I sense that there is some menace behind it, but I don’t know where it is. Then suddenly all of the pastel flowers turn red, blood red. Everything is covered with blood and I am being tossed away, discarded. I don’t know where Rosey is. I never see him again. I’m screaming because I don’t know where I am and I can’t find Rosey or Willie or anybody. I’ve never had anything affect me like this, and I can’t talk to anybody about it because they’ll think I’m crazy. The ones who don’t already.”

  She managed a weak laugh.

  “Look, do you want to talk to the head of the Secret Service? Maybe that would make you feel better.”

  “That would scare me to death. Just the fact that we have to have so many people around us all the time is bad enough. It means they know what targets we are. The details would only make me feel worse. I can’t see what other precautions we can take unless we never leave this place. We’re already prisoners enough as it is.”

  The phone on Sadie’s desk rang. Jenny picked it up.

  “It’s Lorraine Hadley. Shall I tell her you’ll call back?”

  Sadie made a face. There was nothing worse than a former hostess in a city where parties weren’t that important anymore. Lorraine was a dinosaur and didn’t even know it. Yet she was so desperate to be a part of things that Sadie felt sorry for her.

  “No, I’ll talk to her. If I don’t take it now she’ll only keep calling back.”

  “Darling,” said Lorraine. “In case you’ve forgotten, your birthday is coming up.”

  “It’s really a nothing birthday,” said Sadie. “Forty-four. I have absolutely no feeling about it at all.”

  “So we’ll just do a small party, then?”

  “Lorraine, you’re sweet to think of it, but I really don’t want a birthday party.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got to get you out of that House before you forget how to behave in polite company. We must remind the natives that there really is a First Lady. How about six or eight of us, just family? It really will do you good.”

  She was right. It would be good to get out of the White House. She had been practically a recluse for the past two years, since Willie was born. She knew Rosey would enjoy it. He kept trying to persuade her to go out to dinner, but it was such a production that it never seemed worth it.

  “Oh, why not,” said Sadie. “But absolutely no more than six or eight.”

  “Wonderful!” said Lorraine. “I know you won’t be sorry. Now, if only this dreadful humidity will clear up, we’ll eat in the garden.”

  * * *

  “Really, Sadie, this is insane!”

  Lorraine had been on the phone with Sadie’s staff for days trying to arrange the birthday party, and her exasperation was beginning to show.

  “I’ve had everyone in my household identified and checked by the Secret Service. They all feel like criminals. Police have been swarming over the place for days. The telephone people have strung up wires outside my house. There is a command post set up in my living room and a hospital upstairs in my library. I had a huge fight with one of those faceless agents—really, they are so incredibly rude, all of them.…” She paused at the silence on the other end of the line. “… About whether we could have cocktails outside or not. He wouldn’t even hear of eating outside. I made such a stink about drinks that he finally gave in, but he wasn’t happy about it. And then, this is too ridiculous, he told me I couldn’t greet you and Rosey at the door. I have to wait until you’re inside. For God’s sake, Sadie, this is Georgetown after all. It’s not the ghetto.”

  All this talk about security made Sadie even more anxious.

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, Lorraine, but we have no choice. It goes with the territory. It’s frightening to think that there are people who would go to such lengths to harm us. But if it’s too much for you, we can always just forget it. I won’t mind. I promise.”

  “Oh no, darling. Not at all. My God, I don’t want you to think…”

  That got her. The evening was going to put Lorraine back on the map for at least a year. Besides, she loved all the security. It made her feel important.

  “It’s just that bringing your own water? And your own drinks? And having to have the wine uncorked by a Secret Service agent? I mean, honestly…!”

  “Lorraine.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll shut up. But I do think it would be nice if someone would tell me exactly how many support staff are coming so I could arrange to have them fed.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Sadie. “They eat beforehand, an
d if they don’t, somebody will send out for fast food.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Lorraine. “Ezio’s a wonderful chef. I’d be happy to provide for them.”

  “I don’t think you will when you hear how many there are. I’ve just asked.”

  “How many?”

  “Forty-five.”

  * * *

  It was shortly before five the evening of the birthday party when Lorraine called Sadie. She had just returned from the hairdresser to find several large dogs sniffing out the place. One of the waitresses had been held outside because the house had already been sealed, and Archie, Lorraine’s husband, was having a fit because two marksmen with long-range rifles were sitting in his bedroom facing the window.

  The Secret Service had put up a hideous gauze curtain in the garden to shield the President from the next-door neighbor’s upstairs window. So humiliating for the neighbors. They were from such a good old Washington cave-dweller family. The agents had also wanted to put curtains up in front of the holly trees, but then her guests wouldn’t have been able to see her beautiful English border—they gave in on that one. They had moved the garden furniture in close to the house so the President would be shielded by the L-shaped wing and protected by the high fence behind the holly trees. They had even designated specific chairs for the Greys.

  The President’s valet was in the kitchen checking out the food and Ezio was fuming. It seemed that his salad included tomatoes and the President hadn’t eaten any of the garden tomatoes that had been served him at Camp David the previous weekend. Perhaps he had developed an allergy? Lorraine had managed to convince Ezio that red peppers would be even better and a little more unusual. The President’s water was brought in in a large gallon container as was Sadie’s favorite summer drink, sangria.

  Why hadn’t somebody just told her that Sadie liked sangria? She certainly could have managed to provide that. But when Rosey’s valet began uncorking the wine she decided to go upstairs and take a hot bath. She understood that presidents in this day and age needed to be protected but it was really getting ridiculous.

  Sadie had requested that Abigail and Malcolm Sohier be invited. They were one of the most attractive couples in Washington and favorites of the Greys. Malcolm was the Democratic senator from Massachusetts, bright, charming, and witty. Abby was well read and fun. They were a rarity in Washington, a political couple who had not been corrupted by power and who continued to care about issues. Malcolm might well be the Democratic candidate for President when Rosey left the White House. Sadie had hoped last time that Rosey would choose him for his running mate, but he had refused to get rid of the dreadful Freddy Osgood, claiming it would be political suicide in the West and Midwest. He was probably right, but it was still too bad.

  Lorraine had wanted to include a prominent columnist and his wife, but Sadie had put her foot down. She liked journalists and found them exciting and irreverent, but she had learned a lesson from Des. You could never really trust them. Nothing was ever off the record, especially if you were the President.

  At any rate, having accepted the idea of a birthday party, Sadie was looking forward to a cozy evening with just the six of them.

  * * *

  Sadie was used to the motorcycles, the police cars, and the sirens accompanying them wherever they went. She knew it was exciting to others, seeing the presidential motorcade. As they pulled up to Lorraine’s house and stopped, a long black limousine with flags kept going. It was the decoy. Behind them was the ambulance, which stopped and parked directly across the street. There were several cars both in front and in back of their limousine. What appeared to be an army, most in dark glasses, earphones, and three-piece suits, headed up the stone stairs to the elegant federal pink-brick house. Standing in the doorway of the central hall, Lorraine moved aside as people with briefcases pushed past her. Rosey and Sadie got out of the limousine and headed up the stairs. Lorraine stepped out on the front landing to greet them as they neared the door. Before she could put out her hand, a burly agent grabbed her and sent her reeling back into the house, nearly knocking her down.

  “Not out here,” he hissed.

  Lorraine steadied herself and managed to smile as she extended her hand to Rosey and Sadie, who acted oblivious to what had just happened. Miraculously, most of the support team had disappeared. One group had gone to the upstairs study to set up a medical center. The other group went to a small breakfast room off the kitchen to set up a command and communications center, including an entire separate phone system.

  Lorraine took her cue from the Greys.

  “Darlings,” she said, as though nothing had happened, “I’m thrilled that you could come. Let’s go out on the terrace and have a drink.”

  She led them down the hall, past the elegant drawing room, and out the back French doors to where the Sohiers were waiting. The seven or eight Secret Service agents had more or less vanished into the garden, taking up unobtrusive positions among the trees.

  She was greeted by a chorus of “Happy Birthdays.”

  “I’d almost forgotten it was my birthday, actually,” drawled Sadie in her soft Savannah accent. “And I wasn’t the only one.” She glanced pointedly at her husband.

  “Well, Sugar, as the man said, ‘it ain’t over till it’s over.’ We still have a few more hours left.”

  “Mr. President, don’t tell me you still haven’t given your wife a present,” exclaimed Malcolm in mock horror.

  “You’re going to eat your heart out, Sohier,” laughed Rosey.

  The Greys kissed the Sohiers warmly. Archie, a renowned bore, was greeted with less enthusiasm.

  “Sadie,” said Archie, recognizing the coolness, “you look positively ravishing.”

  Sara Adabelle Grey did look great. Her auburn hair was longer than it had been since she had come to the White House four years earlier. It was parted to the side and brushed smoothly so that it fell slightly over her eye. She looked more like thirty-four than forty-four. Her skin was pale, which set off her turquoise eyes, and she wore a strapless linen dress of the same color. William Rosewell Grey III, graying noticeably at the temples now, was tall and distinguished-looking in a tan linen suit. They were a gorgeous couple, and the way they looked at each other, it seemed to the observer that after twenty some years of marriage they were still in love.

  Lorraine insisted that her guests be seated. There were six white wrought-iron chairs set out, and she perched on a corner of one, not wanting to wrinkle her silk caftan, and nervously smoothed back a hair on her chignon.

  She turned to the waiter who was hovering behind her with champagne glasses filled with peach-colored liquid.

  “We have bellinis here, or Sadie, if you prefer, the White House sent over sangria.” She wanted to make her point.

  Sadie didn’t bite.

  “Oh, bellinis sound heavenly,” she said. “I’ll have one.” Rosey reached for one as well.

  After the guests had been served, they turned to admire the garden.

  It did look spectacular. Typically English, it had a perennial border along the back and sides, directly in front of a bank of hollies that screened the row houses behind the wall.

  A large crepe myrtle graced the center of the yard, a pretty cherry tree stood to the left, and a small fountain lent a cooling sound to the summer air. The grass was deep and green, which contrasted beautifully with the pastel flowers. The only thing that marred the scene was the silk tentlike curtain erected to the left of the patio, which was billowing in the breeze. Sadie and Rosey seemed not to notice it.

  “How’s Willie?” asked Abby.

  “Fabulous!” said Rosey before Sadie could reply. His face brightened. “What a great little kid! I never would have believed what joy there is in having a late baby like this. He is the light of my life. He came down to my office today and all hell broke loose. He had the entire cabinet on their toes right before the meeting with his toy airplanes and his tanks. There’s no question he’s going to be a gen
eral when he grows up. I’m thinking of sending him to the Citadel in the finest Southern military tradition.”

  “He’s completely bananas about Willie and vice versa,” said Sadie in mock despair. “Willie is in Rosey’s lap every chance he gets. I feel rather left out.”

  “The fact is that I’m besotted. You appreciate your kids so much more when you’re older. When you’re young you’re so involved with your career and travel that you don’t really have the time to concentrate on them. Being in the White House is like working at home. I’m always there. I can run up and see him anytime I want or he can come down and visit me. I always play tennis in the evenings and then throw the ball around with Willie afterward. It’s great.”

  “We could get to be real bores about Willie.” Sadie laughed. “How about your kids?” she asked the Sohiers. “Are you going on vacation with them this summer?”

  “I think we’ll just take them to the North Shore as usual,” said Abigail. “Massachusetts is so great in the summer. And after Washington it’s such a relief. When are you going to Easthampton?”

  “I was supposed to go up at the beginning of July with Willie and have Rosey come up on weekends and join us in August. But he’s gotten so grouchy about the two of us being away that I’ve decided to wait and go up with him. Besides, it’s just too complicated to go separately.”

  Washington conversation never strays too far away from politics, and Malcolm Sohier was already getting a little restless with the casual chitchat. He changed the conversation as soon as he thought it was acceptable.

  “Mr. President,” he said, “what’s happening with the murder investigation of those DEA agents?”

  Rosey leaned forward and frowned.

  “You know things are getting serious when they start murdering our Drug Enforcement people,” he said. “But the normal recourse, which would be to go through diplomatic channels, isn’t an option. These guys are killing their own judges, journalists, politicians, police, and ordinary citizens who dare to protest, mowing them down in cold blood. The drug dealers have more or less taken over their governments. Even the armies are intimidated. There’s just nobody for us to complain to. They’re either scared or dead. Those who are running the countries are mostly on the payrolls of the dealers. If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em. I’ve asked Freddy and his friend Roy Fox to head up a task force to look into the situation. I have to say, right now, it is definitely one of my number-one priorities.”