The Reluctant First Lady

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The Reluctant First Lady Page 18

by Venita Ellick


  Georgia buzzed him on the intercom. “Mr. President, Jack is here and says he needs to speak to you immediately. Shall I have him come back, or do you want to see him now?”

  Michael had left instructions with his secretary not to disturb him unless it was an emergency. He was sure Georgia had conveyed that message to Jack, and yet Jack was insistent about seeing him, so it must be important.

  “Please send him in, Georgia.”

  Within seconds, the door opened and Jack hurried in with several newspapers in his hands. Seeing the expression on Jack’s face, Michael joked, “It’s only nine o’clock in the morning; surely, it’s too early for that expression.”

  Jack didn’t answer. He simply walked over to Michael and laid the society section of the New York Post on his desk.

  Michael looked down at the front page of the society section and saw a picture of Geoffrey Carruthers assisting Ashley with her coat. The caption read, “The Reluctant First Lady and Geoffrey Carruthers, Together Again.” He didn’t bother to read the short article adjacent to the picture.

  The newspaper faded as did Michael’s desk and for that matter the room. He didn’t hear Jack speaking to him; there was just the blinding color red. Rage, so encompassing it interfered with his breathing, flooding his senses. He could smell and taste it. His only thought was getting to Ashley.

  “Jack, would you tell Georgia and Ed to clear my schedule? I want everything ready for me to leave for New York as soon as possible. I’ll be spending the night with Ashley and returning tomorrow, so if there’s something that needs immediate attention, see that you give it to me before I leave.

  “Mr. President, shouldn’t we talk about this? Do you think it’s a good idea to take off for New York right now when you’re so upset? Why don’t you just call Ashley? I’m sure there’s a good reason that she was with Carruthers. Part of her job is to meet with supporters and patrons of the museum, and she’s bound to meet people outside of her office. You do.”

  Michael was so angry he didn’t trust himself to speak. Jack didn’t understand. How could he? It wasn’t Ashley he didn’t trust. He knew Carruthers, and more importantly, he knew his reputation. To date, there had been two pictures of them in the newspaper together. He’d deliberately chosen not to mention the first picture to Ashley. He’d chalked it up to her involvement with the Black Tie Dinner. But twice? That was more than a coincidence. He wanted some answers, now.

  “Jack, please do as I asked. I need to see Ashley and discuss this. Other than the Secret Service, I won’t need anyone else to go with me. I’ll be staying at Ashley’s apartment in New York, and I’ll be back tomorrow. The Secret Service will make all the necessary arrangements for security. Please get moving on this; I want to be at Ashley’s apartment when she gets home from work.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to talk about any political ramifications these pictures might have before you take off?” Jack asked.

  “No. We’ll discuss what needs to be done about the picture from a political point of view, if anything, tomorrow when I return. Right now, I want to see my wife.”

  Jack took Michael’s remarks as his dismissal. He immediately went to see Ed and explained what happened. Ed was almost as upset as the president. They were both convinced it was a simple matter of Ashley executing her responsibilities as the director of the Cameron Museum of Art. Still, the last thing they needed was for the picture to get legs and take off.

  During Michael’s trip to New York, he made the decision to meet with Geoffrey Carruthers first before he met with Ashley. Michael notified the Secret Service of his intention so they could make the necessary arrangements for his visit. In addition, he asked Georgia to call his wife and let her know he was coming to New York and would see her later today. He wanted to give Ashley the chance to clear her schedule for this evening.

  Michael realized his visit to Carruthers’s office wouldn’t go unnoticed; all the same, who was to say they weren’t discussing business affairs? He was well aware it might not be the most prudent thing to do, especially given the picture in the newspaper, but he also knew no one would know the true reason for his visit. He was relatively sure the conversation he would be having with Carruthers would be kept between the two of them; however, even if it wasn’t, it was a conversation he intended to have. He perceived a threat to his wife and that wasn’t to be tolerated.

  As he exited his vehicle, he glanced up at Carruthers Tower, one of many skyscrapers owned by him in New York City. Michael had called ahead to be sure Carruthers was in town and to let him know he was on his way to see him. He took several deep, calming breaths, composing himself for the little chat he intended to have with the land-developing tycoon. He didn’t want to lose his temper; he had a feeling Geoffrey would like that very much. Where his wife was concerned, he had very little patience with interference from others.

  With the Secret Service in tow, Michael made his way through the lobby and took the elevator to the top floor. He’d already instructed the agents that he wanted to speak to Mr. Carruthers privately and expected them to wait in the outer office.

  When they reached the top floor, the elevator doors opened to an enormous and quite lavishly decorated foyer. The receptionist behind a circular desk stepped forward and welcomed the president and his entourage. Without hesitating, she ushered the president into Mr. Carruthers’s office.

  Once his office doors were closed and they were alone, Geoffrey walked over to the bar in his office. “I was surprised to hear from you and am interested in the reason for your visit. Congratulations on winning the election. I was quite sure you would. Can I interest you in something to drink?”

  Michael refused. He wasn’t interested in small talk. Rather, he immediately zeroed in on his purpose for coming. “Why have two pictures of you and my wife made the national papers in the last two months?”

  Geoffrey wasn’t surprised by the question as much as he was surprised that the president didn’t intend to engage in any small talk. He knew he had to be very careful with his response. Michael wasn’t a fool, and he knew not to underestimate him.

  “Those were unfortunate pictures in the New York papers.”

  “Unfortunate? Why? Because you were caught with my wife in both of them?”

  “Yesterday’s picture was taken after Ashley and I had lunch. We met to discuss my establishing an endowment fund for the museum. I was helping her with her coat when a photographer snapped our picture. It was all perfectly innocent, I can assure you.”

  “Oh, I know it was innocent on Ashley’s part. And what about the other picture at the fund-raiser? Also perfectly innocent?”

  “Absolutely. I was an invited guest, and your wife was merely performing her duties as the museum’s director.”

  “It’s not my wife I’m concerned about. I trust her implicitly. It’s your intentions I’m curious about. Your reputation is well known, and all of a sudden, within a relatively short amount of time, you’ve managed to have your picture taken with my wife twice. That makes me highly suspicious about your motives.”

  “I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered, Mr. President. I have no grand designs on your wife. There are plenty of other women available—ones who aren’t as newsworthy as your wife and who aren’t married to the president of the United States. I’m sorry you felt you needed to have this conversation.”

  “I don’t trust you, Carruthers. I can sense you’re up to something. I’m warning you to be very careful. My wife is off-limits. Any business you have to conduct with her can be done at the museum. I hope I’m making myself perfectly clear.”

  “I don’t particularly like your assumptions or your ultimatum.”

  “I don’t care what you like or don’t like. I highly suspect you’re manipulating situations where Ashley is concerned. For what purpose, I don’t know yet, but I’m warning you, stay away from my wife.”

  31

  Ashley came whistling through her apartment door. She was so exci
ted to see Michael. She couldn’t believe that he’d actually made the trip to New York to see her on the spur of the moment. She felt lucky to be married to the kind of man who would put such an important job on hold to come to see his wife in the middle of the week. Her fears about his becoming the president and never having time for her may have been unfounded, for here he was.

  “Hi, honey. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so . . .” Ashley stopped dead in her tracks. The look on Michael’s face meant only one thing. Something was very wrong.

  “Michael, has something happened? Are Jeremy and Juliette all right? Please, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  Michael had been sitting in his wife’s apartment waiting for her to come home. He’d been doing deep breathing exercises and had been practicing other relaxation techniques in an attempt to stay calm and not attack Ashley the minute she walked through the door. He knew his wife well enough to know it was best not to put her on the defensive.

  He thought back to another time. It was after he and Ashley were married when he was in law school and Ashley was working late at the Berkeley museum one night. The phone rang, and when he answered it, a man asked to speak to Ashley. When he explained that Ashley wasn’t at home and offered to take a message, the caller replied, “Tell her Howard called, and I was wondering if she would like to go out for coffee?”

  Michael nearly lost it, but he patiently pointed out to the man that Ashley wouldn’t be going out with anybody; she was married to him. To which Howard answered, “Well, now, that’s really not your decision to make, is it?”

  After threatening old Howard with every law he could think of if he ever tried to contact his wife again, he waited for Ashley to come home from work. He worked up a scenario in his mind where Ashley had met someone at the museum and given him their home number. By the time she got home, he was rip-roaring drunk and ready to nail her to the wall.

  Ashley couldn’t figure out for the life of her what Michael was talking about. He was drunk as a skunk, was threatening her, and was making all sorts of crazy accusations. What she did know was that she didn’t deserve the treatment she was receiving. She’d been charged guilty without the benefit of a trial.

  After piecing together some of Michael’s crazy statements, she gathered some man called asking for her, which threw Michael into a jealous frenzy. She tried to reason with him and explain that she didn’t know any Howard, but no amount of reasoning had any effect on his drunken rage. Finally Ashley made a few threats of her own, including leaving him. That sobered him up long enough to have the good sense to take a cold shower and then sit down and discuss the whole situation more reasonably. He learned that night that if you pushed Ashley too far, she came out swinging.

  He always remembered the lesson he learned that night. Now photographs of his wife with Carruthers had been thrust in his face twice, and whatever else he did, he needed to discuss them calmly with her without causing their tempers to escalate.

  “The kids are fine; I needed to see you. Josh brought me the picture of you and Carruthers that was in the society section of the New York Post this morning. Have you seen it?”

  “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. I’ve been so busy today, I haven’t had a chance to do anything but deal with other museums about the exhibits we’re exchanging.”

  Michael walked over and handed her the paper with her and Carruthers’s picture in it. He watched her expression. First it was one of surprise, then frustration, followed by disgust, and finally anger. He was waiting for her to say something.

  Instead, she walked over and sat down on the sofa. “You didn’t come here to see me because you missed me, did you? You came because of this picture in the newspaper.” Her voice was soft and sounded disheartened.

  “I think an explanation is a reasonable thing to ask,” Michael said quietly.

  “Excuse me; let me see if I get this right. You saw this picture in the newspaper and decided to pay your wife a little visit, which leads me to believe you think there’s something behind the picture. How close am I?”

  “I’ve never accused you of being slow. This is the second picture of you and that man together in as many months. What’s going on?”

  “Are you asking as my husband, or are you asking as a president who feels his wife’s behavior may affect him politically?”

  “Don’t push me, Ashley. I don’t care how this looks to anyone else. I want to know what’s going on with you and the biggest playboy in the western hemisphere.”

  Ashley was furious. “Yes, I guess the cat is out of the bag. So sorry you had to find out about it like this.” Before it even registered with her what she was doing, she rolled up a magazine and threw it at her husband. “You idiot.”

  Michael managed to dodge the magazine, but his temper was quickly catching up with Ashley’s. “This is not the time for sarcasm; tell me about the pictures.”

  “Not a chance. If you don’t have more faith in me than what you are so obviously demonstrating, you don’t deserve an answer. By the way, how’s our lovely Paula? Has she made any advances yet?”

  In one stride, Michael crossed the room and stood directly in front of his wife. “Ashley, you damn well know there’s nothing going on between Paula and me, and that was a cheap shot. I wonder how you’d feel if you saw a couple of cozy pictures in the newspaper of Paula and me. So far, the only time we’ve been in a photo together, we’ve been at the opposite ends of a receiving line.”

  Ashley’s pent-up breath released like an overinflated balloon. He was right; she would have wondered what was going on although she would’ve probably assumed it was job-related. Why couldn’t they be like everyone else? The super-powered microscope lens was focused on their every move. She hated the way they were living their lives.

  “I don’t like anything about the way you’ve handled this situation, but the pictures, while annoying, are completely innocent. The first one was taken at the annual fund-raiser—let me insert here, part of my job. The second one was taken yesterday after Mr. Carruthers and I had lunch while we discussed a very generous endowment he’s establishing for the museum. Again, part of my job. I had no knowledge that either picture was being taken until I saw them in the newspaper. Surely you know there’s nothing going on between us.”

  “What I know is that Geoffrey Carruthers has popped up twice in connection with you in the newspaper in the last few weeks. I don’t know if the pictures are being planned by him ahead of time or if it’s merely a coincidence, but I suspect he’s got something up his sleeve where you’re concerned although he denies it. I trust you; it’s him I don’t trust.”

  “What do you mean, he denies it? Michael Taylor, don’t you dare tell me you’ve talked to him about all of this.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have. I wanted him to know that I’m aware of the games he plays with the feminine population, and he better stay the hell away from you.”

  Ashley was almost speechless. “I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid. Did you challenge him to a duel? How dare you interfere in my professional life? You don’t see me sashaying into your office deciding to make a few decisions here and there for the country. What if he decides not to go through with the endowment? And, as bad as it may be for the museum, don’t you see how demeaning what you’ve done is to you?”

  “It’s not me I’m concerned about,” Michael reasserted. “I don’t think you fully understand. You’re not playing in the kiddie pool when it comes to Geoffrey Carruthers. I repeat, he’s dangerous and he’s up to something. You once accused me of not recognizing that Paula was scheming to replace you; well, you need to take a good, long look in the mirror, honey, because you’re being pursued big time.”

  Ashley stood up and began pacing the room. She needed to think, and she thought best when she was moving. Could Michael be right? Could there be more behind Geoffrey’s generosity than altruism? If Michael was right, that made Geoffrey far more than a scoundrel who preyed on women. His
actions would have been calculated and part of his chase.

  “Let’s assume for a minute you’re right about Geoffrey and he has ulterior motives although I can’t imagine what they might be. I want you to know that nothing has happened between us, and the things you’re suggesting never occurred to me. In all my dealings with him, the museum has been the main focus. He’s been the very essence of a gentleman and never given even the slightest hint that he’s coming on to me.”

  Michael walked over to his wife, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her on the forehead. Ashley, who always had a sassy response for everyone, didn’t realize the power and the ruthless character behind a man like Carruthers, nor did she realize how desirable she was. She always liked to think she was capable of handling anything that came her way, but she hadn’t been exposed to the seamier side of life, and while he was glad she hadn’t been, it made her more vulnerable than he liked.

  The last two decades of dealing with politicians, lobbyists, and the underbelly of big business had taught him more than he ever wanted to know. People like Geoffrey Carruthers assumed they could get away with anything. They thought they were smarter than others, and that’s generally how you could catch them. Their overconfidence made them vulnerable.

  “Michael, I’m not sure if you’re right about Geoffrey, but I’ll be very careful where he’s concerned. It’s exactly this kind of thing I was talking about before I left Washington. We can’t foresee the people who’ll be entering our lives. Therefore we can’t predict the potential problems that could come our way. I love you, and whatever I might do, it will always be for us. Remember that, will you?”

  Michael raised Ashley’s chin and looked into her eyes. She had been his Ashley since they were seventeen years old. He kissed her on the forehead, her nose, then settled his mouth on her ripe, luscious lips. They were made for kissing.

  “Could I interest you in America’s favorite pastime?” Michael asked.

 

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