“Then I will gorge on my own plum pudding. I think I’ll make a triple batch just to be on the safe side. Rather like Elias and his golf cart hedging his bets with Nellie and her horse.”
Myra laughed again, and Charles heaved a deep breath. It was going to be a good day. The evening . . . Now, that was a different can of worms altogether.
Lizzie Fox left the White House as quickly as her feet would carry her. As she literally raced down the halls, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to see staff members already at their desks, people she’d nodded to in the past, possibly had waved at or even spoken a few words to during her short tenure as the president’s counsel at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Once she was a safe distance from that famous address, she pulled into a fast-food joint and ordered an English muffin and some hot coffee. She wolfed it down in the parking lot and wished she had another.
When she pulled into traffic again, she drove by her old offices, offered up a jaunty salute, but kept on going. Her destination was her old house, which she had decided not to rent out, after all. She liked the idea that she could come back to it anytime she felt like it and sleep in her old bed. She had even left some of her clothes and toiletries behind. The only thing she really needed was some coffee, but then she remembered that the last time she’d visited the house, she’d put the coffee in the freezer. Well, that meant she was good to go.
With hours looming ahead of her until it was time to go out to the farm, and with nothing better to do than think about her visit with the president, she could do a little dusting, a little mopping, and open the windows to air the place out. Then, maybe after she did that, she would build a fire and sit down and think about the meeting. It was a game plan. Of sorts.
In the end, she did nothing like that at all. She drove to Harry Wong’s dojo, greeted Bert and Jack, who were between classes, allowed herself to be bear-hugged, peeped in at Harry, who waved offhandedly and continued with his training. Seeing that she was in the way, Lizzie blew kisses and headed out the door. Her next stop was the Post and a visit with Maggie, who was so happy and giddy, all Lizzie could do was stare at her friend.
Maggie started to babble at once, bringing Lizzie up to date on her new relationship. “Don’t go getting the wrong idea, Lizzie, because we have not had sex yet. And you know what? That’s okay, too. We’re taking it slow and easy. He digs me, Lizzie. Do you believe that?” Not waiting for or expecting a reply, Maggie rushed on. “I’m thinking of taking him to Annie’s for Thanksgiving dinner. I plan on asking him tonight. We text and e-mail all day. Well, I do it more than he does. After all, he is a big money manager and has a duty to his clients, and he has to be careful.” At Lizzie’s look of alarm, Maggie almost screamed, “What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Maggie, does your new beau know about the vigilantes and your friendship with them?”
“I . . . well, I didn’t see the point . . . so to answer . . . no, I did not mention it. Maybe that’s why I have been holding . . . off.”
“What do you think he would do or say if you confided in him?” Lizzie asked quietly.
Maggie looked so stricken that Lizzie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Maggie sat down in her swivel chair and stared at Lizzie. “I don’t know, Lizzie. Well, that’s not quite true. I think he’d give me my walking papers. He said he was staying in town over Thanksgiving. I didn’t . . . What I mean is, I didn’t say what I was doing. I can still go to the farm on my own. That means he will have to eat somewhere alone, and that’s going to bother me. It will bother me, Lizzie. I can’t just not show up. I owe all of this,” she said, waving her arms about, “to Annie. And I want to see her new house and be with the girls. It’s been a while. Damn, why can’t things just work out?”
Lizzie tilted her head to the side, her expression one of I don’t have a clue. “That’s a hard one.”
Maggie suddenly bolted upright. “Lizzie, why are you here? You said last week you couldn’t make Thanksgiving dinner, because Cosmo was getting all those awards, and yet here you are. What’s up? And it’s so early in the morning.”
“I just came from the White House. I stopped by the dojo, but the guys were busy, and it felt like I was in the way. I’m on my way to my old house to check it out, you know, dust, mop up, air it out. There’s a meeting at Myra’s tonight. Dinner, of course. Then I take the red-eye home. You’re going, aren’t you?”
Maggie struggled with her reporter’s instincts and her infatuation for her new beau. “Of course I’ll be there. I’ll just . . . you know . . . blow him off. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll think of me as a mysterious femme fatale. Not likely, huh?” she answered herself when Lizzie grinned.
“I did not say that, Maggie. I’m just amused at your dilemma.”
“Are the guys going?”
“Nope, just us girls and Charles, of course. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I see you have a text coming in, so I’ll be on my way. No, no, take care of business. I can see my way to the elevator. Give Ted and Espinosa my regards, okay?”
Maggie eyed her cell phone on the desk. She decided to ignore the incoming text and walked Lizzie to the elevator. “I’ll give the guys your regards. To tell you the truth, I have no idea where either one of them is right now. Things are going to hell around here, Lizzie.”
Lizzie did her best not to laugh. “I wonder why that is,” she said, giving Maggie a quick hug before she stepped into the elevator.
“Yeah, I wonder why that is,” Maggie mumbled to herself as she made her way back to the office, where she eyed the phone and, without checking the text, slid it into one of her desk drawers. She continued to mumble and mutter to herself as she made her way to the kitchen to fortify herself. First comes nourishment, then comes work, then comes love. Remember that, Maggie Spritzer, the next time you go off the rails.
Chapter 4
To Myra and Annie’s delight, the Sisters all arrived within twenty minutes of each other. Seeing the girls, no matter the circumstances, was the highlight of the day. Lizzie’s appearance was the cherry on top, Annie said.
They all sat around the dining-room table to be out of Charles’s way in the kitchen. Pictures of Little Jack were passed around while doting mom, Lizzie, regaled them with blow-by-blow descriptions of why a certain picture was taken and where it was taken. She proudly announced that he was growing like a sprout and was now wearing a size six, which stunned everyone at the table.
“Cosmo said he’s following in his footsteps, and Jack now has his own regular rocking chair, just the way Cosmo had when he was a little boy.” And on and on it went, the Sisters listening with rapt attention, until Charles announced that dinner was ready.
As always, the rule that no business was to be discussed during dinner was observed, which meant Lizzie repeated all of Jack’s activities for Charles’s benefit.
“You should hear his God blesses when he says his prayers at night. Every day the list gets longer as he discovers new things. He’s blessing the grasshoppers, the birds, all the bugs and ants, the moon, the stars, and the clouds, plus every single toy he owns. I do want you to know, though, all of you are at the top of his list. Big Jack goes first, then all of you. It’s so sweet, I want to cry sometimes. Cosmo fell asleep the other night before Jack finished with his prayers. I had to tuck him in and wake up Cosmo.” They all laughed at the image Lizzie presented to them.
An hour later, Charles’s delectable crown roast was just a memory. There wasn’t enough left for any of the Sisters to take home, which Charles said was a good thing. He did love it when the platters were empty.
“I just love comfort food,” Maggie said. “Did any of you notice how the temperature is dropping?” At their nods, she rattled on. “Our weatherman is predicting snow flurries for Thanksgiving. No accumulation, though. And, Charles, I will take a double helping of your mango banana sorbet.” She continued to prattle on and on without saying anything noteworthy until Kathry
n, back from her road trip, told her to zip it up.
Their nerves on edge, the Sisters rushed through dessert and coffee, all of them scurrying back and forth to the kitchen to help, as Alexis said, “to get this show on the road.”
The Sisters’ gaze kept going to the sideboard, to the box Lizzie had carried into the dining room. That box, they thought as one, was the clue to what this emergency dinner was all about.
The moment Charles snuffed out the lavender-scented candles and turned up the dining-room chandelier, the Sisters leaned forward.
It was time to get down to it. Whatever it was.
Lizzie, too, leaned forward. “I was at the White House this morning before the sun came up. Actually, I was summoned. It wasn’t a social visit, although the president and I did some personal catching up.”
The Sisters waited.
“The president asked me to tell you that after her surprise visit while you were all in Vegas, the timing wasn’t quite right to do what she originally wanted to do at that time. She said to extend her apologies. It appears that the timing for what she had in mind is now more to her liking. This is my question to you all. Have any of you changed your minds about helping her out?”
The Sisters looked at one another, then at Charles, as they shook their heads.
“That’s a good thing. She was a little worried and, for obvious reasons, did not want to communicate those worries.”
The ever-blunt Kathryn said, “So she wants to collect on the pardons, right? Forget that she promised them in the first place. This hand washes that hand? That’s how Washington works. You know what? I’m not so sure I’m interested this time around. However, I’m open to being convinced.”
“Kathryn, I would never try to convince you or the others of anything. I’m just your lawyer, the intermediary here to present . . . for want of a better word, an offering.”
“And that would be . . . what?” Annie asked, her eyes shiny bright.
“It seems the president has formed a new agency. An agency that has no address and is not listed anywhere. The president left it up to me to negotiate the remuneration you would all expect. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the sky is the limit on this one. She spoke briefly about a mystery slush fund somewhere that remuneration would come from. Another mystery fund will be set up for me to oversee and pay out. The president does have the backing of the FBI, the CIA, the DOJ, and a few other alphabet twisters.”
“To do what?” Yoko asked.
Lizzie smiled. “I have no clue. My guess would be that whatever she wants done, she and those alphabet twisters don’t want anyone to know about. In other words, those other agencies have to show accountability to the government and the public, whereas you will not. All she wants is to get the job done. Whatever that job may be. No questions asked, no accountability. That means you’re home free if you take this on.”
“Accountability and immunity are two different things? In writing?” Charles asked quietly.
“All you could ever want,” Lizzie said just as quietly. “But nothing in writing. One cannot put something in writing if it doesn’t exist. I didn’t just fall off the watermelon truck, Charles. I have it covered.”
Charles inclined his head slightly to show he would accept Lizzie’s response.
“Proof?” Nikki, the other lawyer in the room, said.
“Absolutely one hundred percent full proof.” Lizzie smiled as she looked over at the sideboard, to the box she’d brought with her. The Sisters followed Lizzie’s gaze to the dark blue box sitting there like a Christmas treasure just waiting to be opened. With the overhead lighting turned on high, they could all clearly see the presidential seal on top of the box. As one, they all raised their eyebrows questioningly.
“I know you all want to know what’s in the box, but my instructions were very explicit. I am not to reveal the contents of the box unless you agree to join the president’s new agency.”
The Sisters looked disgruntled, especially Kathryn, who grappled with a smart-ass retort. When she couldn’t come up with a suitable one, she simply scowled menacingly.
Annie took the bit and ran with it. “Let me make sure we all understand what you just said, Lizzie. The president, the same president who gate-crashed Kathryn’s surprise birthday party to ask for our help, which we all agreed to give, after which we sat around for months waiting to see what she wanted us to do, that president? Now, because the timing is right for her, never mind us, she sent you here with a box that you aren’t allowed to show us unless we agree to go to . . . dare I use the term, work, unless we all agree to work for an agency that doesn’t exist and does not have an address? In addition to that, there is a mystery slush fund that will pay us whatever we want to charge. And you, Lizzie, will monitor those monies out of another mystery fund. It appears we would have no say in the . . . job . . . the venture . . . whatever you want to call it. Oh, I almost forgot, we would . . . if we take on this little . . . whatever it is . . . report directly to the president, who has approval from every agency that has initials in this cockamamy city. Did I get all that right?” Annie asked, looking around at the Sisters, whose heads were bobbing up and down.
“That’s a pretty accurate summary, Annie,” Lizzie drawled.
“Well then, count me in and show me what’s in that damn box,” Annie said gleefully. She smacked her hands together to drive home her acceptance of the situation.
Lizzie looked around at the others until she came to Myra, who was smiling from ear to ear. It was clear the others were not going to raise their hands until they saw what their fearless leader was going to do. Myra raised her arm as high as it would go.
Charles sighed and leaned back in his chair.
Lizzie reached behind her, picked up the blue box with the presidential seal, and set it squarely in the middle of the table.
“Are you absolutely sure you want to commit to this, girls? Show me your hands again.”
Seven hands shot high in the air.
The Sisters leaned in toward the table and watched as Lizzie popped open the top and sat back in her chair.
“Bloody hell!” The words exploded from Charles’s mouth like bullets.
“It’s the gold shields!” Nikki said in awe. She quickly counted them. “There are fourteen,” she said.
“One is new. It seems Jack Emery took one of the originals off an agent and gave it to Ted Robinson when the agent got overly forceful and ruptured Ted’s spleen. The president said Mr. Robinson could keep it as a memento and should be issued a new one.”
Annie was beside herself as she tried to figure out how to wear the shiny shield that would give her immunity all over the world. “What do you think, girls? Hang it from a chain, get a special belt and let it dangle? It’s too big for a bracelet. I don’t think a lapel pin will do it. It’s too big,” she babbled as she blew on it, then tried to shine it even more on the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing.
“They are not for show, Annie. But you are to carry them with you. It’s carte blanche for all of you. All of you meaning Jack, Bert, Harry, Ted, and Espinosa. Maggie makes the number thirteen. The president didn’t want any of you to feel unlucky with that number, so there is one extra shield for Judge Easter, for a total of fourteen shields.”
The silence in the dining room was so total, Charles shook his head as though his ears were stuffed up. He watched as the Sisters chose their solid gold shields and stared at them, mesmerized at what they meant.
“They’re very heavy,” Annie said.
“And shiny,” Myra said.
“The guys are going to love these,” Nikki said.
“Ted can make matching bookends with his someday if he mounts them on plaques,” Maggie said as she stared at her own gold shield.
“Harry does not like jewelry. He will say he does not need this. I will convince him otherwise. Two to a family is very nice. His and hers,” Yoko said.
“I wish I had had this a long time ago,” Kathryn said,
so quietly the others had to strain to hear what she was saying.
“But then you wouldn’t be sitting here with all of us,” Nikki said. “I like it. I mean, I really like it.”
Isabelle stared down at the badge she was holding. “I feel like Kathryn does. I wish I had had this back . . . But now is just as good a time as any to be awarded this. I, for one, am proud to accept it.”
“As will Nellie,” Charles added. Not for the world would he ever admit that he was jealous to the bone that he had not been awarded one of the prestigious shields. He hoped the girls couldn’t see how his eyes were burning.
Lizzie got up and walked around the table. She bent down to kiss Charles on the cheek. “I bet right this moment you are thinking that you don’t count, Sir Charles,” she said, drawing one last shield from her pocket. She held it out to him like it was the Holy Grail.
Charles blinked.
“The president said to tell you that she is very aware of your . . . ah . . . involvement and wants you to have this as a special show of her appreciation. She is also very aware of your special relationships across the pond, as well as your knighthood. So, will you accept this shield, Sir Charles?”
“I will.” Charles’s smile rivaled the sun, the moon, and the stars.
“We should have a toast!” Annie said. “Charles, do we have any champagne?”
“Of course. I’ll get it.”
“Ginger ale for me. I’m driving.” The others agreed with Kathryn.
“Ginger ale it is, ladies.”
“I think this calls for my grandmother’s special crystal,” Myra said, getting up to head for the china closet where she kept her heirloom crystal.
Isabelle said, “I have a question, Lizzie. What happened to the previous owners of these shields?”
The girls stopped chattering, their faces startled at Isabelle’s question.
“Previous administration. President Connor’s predecessor retired them when he left office. I was told by the president that her predecessor handed them over to Director Yantzy at the FBI for safekeeping. At her request, he turned them back over to her right after she returned from her visit to Las Vegas.”
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