18. Cross Roads

by Fern Michaels

  Myra and Annie shooed the others inside, saying they would tidy up the terrace and the kitchen. Charles had gone below to the war room in full work mode hours ago.

  When the terrace went silent, Annie and Myra sat down and looked at one another. “This would be a wonderful time to get schnockered, Myra. You know, to celebrate, but since you can’t hold your liquor, would you like a glass of orange juice or a soft drink before we retire for the night? I have to admit, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.”

  “I feel so wired up, I know I won’t be able to sleep, either. I have an idea, Annie. Let’s take the golf cart out of the barn and drive over to Nellie’s house. She never sleeps. Three heads are better than two.”

  “It still rankles, doesn’t it, that Hank Jellicoe didn’t consider you or me a threat to him? I have to tell you, Myra, that more than anything else, that really pisses me off, and excuse my language,” Annie said sourly.

  Myra nodded. “Isn’t it weird, Annie, how people, especially the younger ones, think that because you had the audacity to grow old, you no longer count? How did that happen? I never thought that way. I always thought aging was wonderful, what with all the knowledge you garnered along the way that you wanted to share. No one is asking us for our input, did you notice that? Well, they do in a roundabout way, but it isn’t the same. Back in the beginning, they used to defer to me, even later when you came aboard, to listen to what we had to say. I’m babbling here, Annie, which means I am as disgruntled as you are. So, do we go over to Nellie’s or not?”

  “Hell, yes, but I’m driving. Did you ever find your glasses, Myra?”

  “Bits and pieces—one of the pups chewed them up. It’s all right, I have a spare somewhere. Let’s go, and yes, you can drive.”

  Thirty minutes later, Annie brought the golf cart to a stop alongside the walk-through gate that Myra had the combination to. Retired federal court judge Nellie Easter had security out the wazoo, as she put it, thanks to the taxpayers and way too many threats on her life after she retired.

  “She’s up! The house is ablaze with light,” Myra said.

  “Yes, well, you better hope she doesn’t meet us at the gate with that damn gun she packs around with her. She shoots first and asks questions later. Elias just sleeps through it all.”

  “I heard that,” Nellie said, stepping into a small pool of light next to the gate. “What in the name of God are you doing over here at this time of night? I could have shot you!”

  “But you didn’t, so what is the point in discussing this? We’re coming in, so put that damn gun away. By the way, how are you, Nellie?” Myra asked.

  “These new hips of mine are working out pretty good. I can predict the weather within minutes of a storm, rain, cold, whatever. I’m better than any meteorologist you see on TV. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Do you always have to be such a curmudgeon, Nellie? “We couldn’t sleep. You never sleep. I rest my case,” Annie snapped.

  “How bad is the trouble you think you’re in?” Nellie said, leading the way to the farmhouse she shared with Elias.

  “We don’t think, we know. Deep, deep, and dark brown,” Annie quipped.

  “Ah, that kind of trouble. I think that calls for a drink. You want to sit inside in the kitchen or outside on the deck?”

  “Myra can’t hold her liquor, Nellie, you know that. You should make her hot tea. I’ll take some of that Wild Turkey you keep in the cabinet over the sink. The kitchen will work out just fine. Unless you think our conversation will wake up your husband.”

  “I can hold my liquor; don’t pay attention to Annie, Nellie. I much prefer to have some of that Jim Beam with an ice cube. One ice cube. I hate diluted liquor. By the way, where is Elias?”

  “Asleep, where else? I thought when I married him I was going to have companionship. After dinner he sits down and falls asleep. Then I have to wake him up at eleven o’clock to go to bed. It’s a good thing I have all my cats, or I’d be starved for attention and devotion. Did I mention Elias takes a nap in the afternoon? He does. Did you marry that Fish person, Annie?”

  “I did not! But I did play with him for a while. The whole experience was…interesting.”

  “In what way?” Nellie asked as she poured from two different bottles.

  “I found out I still have what it takes. Don’t look at me like that. I blew his socks off. Myra and I were just having a discussion on getting older. Aside from the fact that it sucks, I’m having a wonderful time,” Annie said.

  “Is that so?” Nellie asked as she peered at Annie over the rim of her glass. “You should maybe write an advice column. I bet that would be a big hit with the geriatric set.”

  “Guess that means you aren’t getting any, what with Elias doing all that sleeping,” Annie shot back. “Not to mention those two new hips of yours must limit your agility. Age is a number, Nellie, as well as a state of mind. Enough of this bullshit. We didn’t come over here in the middle of the night to discuss the aging process or our sex lives. We have things we need to talk about. We’re going to go back in business. The vigilantes are going to ride again. You on board or not? You do realize if you say no, I’ll have to wrestle you for that gun and kill you.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, here we go again!”

  Chapter 18

  Most people, Lizzie thought, would be in awe of this place, but the only thing she was in awe of these days was her son, Jack. Every waking hour of the day she was in awe of the little cherub she’d given birth to. Even at night, her dreams were full of her son. She smiled now just thinking of him.

  She brought her rental car to a full stop, held out her credentials, and waited for the guard to give her the okay to drive through the gates at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Having worked for the president for a limited time, she knew the drill and followed it to the letter.

  Lizzie was dressed to the nines, as Annie would say, which simply meant that she’d dressed for the occasion, in a manner befitting the person she’d come to see. If anything, Lizzie Fox looked more beautiful than she’d ever looked. As Annie said, motherhood gave her a whole other look, one that said, Just you try and take me on. I’m a mother now! Her suit was a custom Armani, the color was called Misty Mountain. The outrageously priced Jimmy Choo shoes matched the suit perfectly. She didn’t carry her handbag, but it, too, matched her outfit. Her silver hair was swept back and up, and held in place with diamond-studded combs, a gift from Cosmo. It was hard to tell which sparkled more, her hair or the brilliant diamonds. No model, famous or not, could hold a candle to Lizzie Fox as she strutted her stuff. Just for fun.

  She saw the smiles, heard the silent whistles, enjoyed the looks of awe and envy, the airy waves. But only for a minute. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was Lizzie Fox, Attorney at Law. And she wasn’t here at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for a fashion show.

  A Secret Service agent led her to the door of the president’s personal quarters and rapped sharply. The door burst open, and Lizzie was literally dragged inside by the president, who hugged her so tight Lizzie thought she would explode. “I missed you, Lizzie. My God! How is it one person can grow more beautiful with each passing day? Damn, Lizzie, I want a gallon of whatever it is you’re taking.”

  Lizzie laughed as she kicked off her shoes. Martine Connor was already in her stocking feet. “This is the reason,” Lizzie said, pulling a slim packet of pictures out of her pocket. “This is the guy responsible for whatever it is you’re seeing in the new me. Tell me he isn’t the most perfect baby, the most gorgeous little boy you’ve ever seen. Except for his big feet. Those he got from Cosmo.” Lizzie giggled.

  The president flipped through the pictures, her eyes misting. “He’s everything you said he is, Lizzie. God, how I envy you. He looks just like you, too. Do you think his hair will stay that silvery color?”

  “The doctor says yes. He’s already had a bit of a haircut with manicure scissors. His hair is thick and so curly you can’t get a comb through it.�
�

  The president linked her arm with Lizzie’s. “I don’t have to ask if you’re happy. All I have to do is look at you, and I have my answer.”

  “Does that mean you aren’t happy, Marti? Every day I look at the mail to see if there’s an invitation to your wedding, but there isn’t. What are you waiting for?” she teased lightly. “How come you aren’t wearing that sparkler that can light up the world, or don’t presidents wear jewelry on the job?” Lizzie’s tone was still lighthearted, but her gaze was sharp and clear.

  “That’s a whole other story, my friend. We only have forty minutes, and we have already used up five of them, and they’ll be serving lunch any minute now.”

  “As a new mother, I can multitask. What that means, even though it isn’t polite, is, I can eat and talk at the same time. Talk to me, Marti.”

  Martine Connor sat down at the table and waited for Lizzie to do the same thing. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. There isn’t even an engagement. At least that I know of. I have not seen or heard from Hank since the night he gave me the ring. I don’t know why, but the press has given me a pass on it all. There haven’t been any questions, no innuendoes, nothing. It’s like that night never happened. Hank has not been to the White House in any capacity since that night.”

  “I don’t understand. Why? What happened?”

  “That makes two of us. I tried calling, writing. I did everything but beg. When the White House calls, most people would pick up. Not Hank Jellicoe. So my answer is, I don’t know. Shhh, here’s our food.”

  Lizzie looked down at the delectable crab cake. It sat on a nest of baby asparagus that was nestled next to slivers of bright orange carrots, covered in cracked black pepper. She knew she wouldn’t eat a thing, and she also knew the president wasn’t going to eat her lunch, either.

  The minute the steward left the dining room, Lizzie leaned across the table and whispered, “Where is he? I haven’t kept up that much on world news, but I think Cosmo would have told me if there was a crisis somewhere in the world. Because if there was, Hank would be smack in the middle of it.”

  The president chewed on her lower lip as she picked at and mashed the food on her plate. Her voice was so soft, Lizzie had to strain to hear the words. “Hank Jellicoe answers to no one, not even the president of the United States, Lizzie. You know that.”

  “Actually, Marti, I did not know that. I thought everyone in this world had to answer to someone at some point in time. You are the commander in chief of the greatest nation on earth. One of the perks should be that you can demand an audience with him. You control the CIA, the FBI. Put the word out and bring him in. If you think they can’t do it, I know some people who could do it, but there would have to be some immunity in place.”

  “What? So I can look like a fool in front of the whole world! I-don’t-think-so! Oh, my God, do you mean…? This isn’t just a little lunch to show me your child’s pictures, is it?”

  Lizzie shrugged as she wondered where the president’s indignation was. “So you’re just going to do…nothing?”

  “Well, I’m not wearing the ring. I keep moving it from place to place, and I don’t know why. I have a rotten track record where men are concerned, you know that.”

  Lizzie did know that, but she wasn’t about to mention it. “Look at me, Marti. It’s just us here, me and you, and you know I can keep a secret. Can you think of any reason, outside of a personal one, why Hank would just let you hang and be humiliated like this?”

  The president’s face crumpled, and Lizzie knew she was close to tears. The change back to presidential mode happened so quick, Lizzie almost thought that what she had seen was a figment of her imagination. “Lizzie, you know I can’t discuss those kinds of things with you. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it personally.”

  “Absolutely not. I bet this was a really good lunch. Chesapeake crab cakes. Cosmo would go over the moon if he were here.”

  “The next time you come to visit, you should bring Cosmo and Little Jack, and I’ll make sure we serve them even if I have to go crabbing myself to get them. Just give me a few days’ notice. Better yet, we could get together at Camp David. Then again, pictures of Little Jack in the White House sitting on the president’s lap might get him some brownie points along the way. Actually, Lizzie, we could do both if you have the time. If you give me a few days’ notice and nothing earth-shattering is going on in the world, I should be able to arrange it.”

  Lizzie laughed because she knew she was supposed to laugh.

  “Tell me something, Lizzie. I know you said you aren’t keeping up with politics, but what about gossip? Did you or your…people hear anything about some kind of intelligence and law-enforcement world summit in midair? My staff has been buzzing about it since it hit every political blog in town yesterday. You know how the gossip flows in the summer, when everyone is on hiatus.”

  Lizzie felt her stomach crunch into a knot. “Not a word. I would think something like that would be pretty hard to pull off. If it was that kind of summit meeting, why wasn’t a representative of yours invited? The director of the CIA or the head of the FBI? Have you asked either one about it?”

  “That’s a very good question, Lizzie. And, no, I haven’t. Like I said, news is slow. But…did you see the Post this morning?”

  “No, I didn’t. Banner headline?”

  “No, nothing like that. A while back they started running two new columns. I understand from my staff they are wildly successful. One is just a question-and-answer kind of thing, Dear someone or other. The other column is called Sight and Sound. People write in with sightings, and other people respond, and they blog and Twitter and do all kinds of things. Today’s question was from a man who said his name was Jonathan, and he wanted to know if anyone but himself had seen Henry—Hank—Jellicoe and what they thought of his transformation? Do you think your…people would know anything about that? What does that mean, ‘his transformation’?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Why would you think my people would know something about that, Marti?” Lizzie said as she bent down to look for her shoes before she remembered she’d left them by the front door.

  The president looked at her watch, then at the food on her plate. She stood up and reached for Lizzie’s plate and carried it with her own to the disposal. “By the way, we finally got it fixed,” she said, indicating the garbage disposal.

  “The next time we should brown-bag it,” Lizzie said lightly. “I do love it when appliances work the way they’re supposed to. Ditto for computers.”

  “How long are you in town for, Lizzie?”

  “Another day or so.”

  “Business?” the president asked.

  “It never goes away or ends, you know that. You know I kept some of my favorite clients, so I have to work from time to time.”

  “New business, old business?” the president asked.

  “Actually, Marti, new business. I couldn’t turn down the fee. I might be the only lawyer in town who will be able to buy her own country when I wrap it up.”

  “That lucrative, huh?” The president smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

  Lizzie laughed. “Well, I can see that my time is up. This was really nice, Marti. One of these days we really should eat the lunch your chef prepares for us.”

  At the door, the president looked Lizzie square in the eye, and whispered, “He had an agenda, Lizzie. He used me, and when it didn’t work…” Tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “It was nice seeing you again, Lizzie. Stay in touch, okay?”

  Lizzie wrapped her arms around the president. “Marti, if you need me, just call. I’ll be here as quick as I can. I promise.”

  “I know that, Lizzie, but thanks for saying it out loud. Give Little Jack a big hug and kiss from his godmother.”

  “I will, Marti. Time for you to start running the world again.” The two women hugged one more time, then Lizzie was on her way back to her rental car.

  The first
thing Lizzie did was to call her husband. With her earbud intact, she was able to concentrate on the road in front of her, the traffic, and talk. Assured that her husband still loved her more than life itself and that Little Jack missed her terribly, Lizzie smiled. It was so wonderful to be loved. She gave him a quick update on her meeting with the president just as she realized she was in front of the Post building. She found a parking space, professed her undying love to her husband and son, and got out of the car.

  Four men almost killed themselves as they all grappled with the elevator door to hold it for Lizzie. She offered up a dazzling smile and rode to Maggie’s floor, wondering why she’d come here. Obviously to report on her meeting with the president and to see if Maggie had any up-to-date information to pass along to those waiting at the farm.

  On this floor, where Maggie made things happen, no one paid any attention to Lizzie as she strode along. She stood still for a minute as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing, which was Ted Robinson texting with one hand, talking on his Bluetooth headset, working the computer with his other hand, and still managing to give signals with his feet to Espinosa, who was doing the same thing but not with Ted’s speed. Now that was multitasking to the nth degree.

  Lizzie made her way to Maggie’s office and saw she was doing much the same thing. Maggie held up her hand to indicate she’d just be a minute. Then she motioned to the kitchen, which meant coffee and donuts or something else edible. Grinning from ear to ear, Lizzie made her way to the kitchen, filled two coffee cups, added two donuts and two bananas and a pile of napkins to the tray, and carried it back to Maggie’s office.

  Maggie was off the phone but was still tapping at her computer keys when Lizzie set the tray down on the corner of her cluttered desk. “You know what, Lizzie, I finally figured it out. All those doctors I’ve gone to about the way I eat said there was nothing wrong with me. Well, I now know when my adrenaline is going full blast, that’s when I eat. If it’s a ho-hum day, boring, nothing is going on, I don’t eat. Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, sinking her teeth into a frosted jelly donut. “You just came from lunch, how come you’re hungry? You didn’t eat, did you. So, did the prez give up anything?”