by Carsen Taite
Addison was tempted to laugh at his serious expression, but instead she just reached out a hand. “Am I supposed to eat this after I read it?”
“Just read it.”
His anxious tone piqued her curiosity, and she skimmed the note. Then read it slowly twice more, anxiety fighting with excitement as she digested the implications.
Roger’s voice cut through her haze. “Did you know about this?”
She looked up from the paper. “I didn’t have a clue.”
“What do you think it’s about?”
She closed her eyes. “I need a minute.”
“You’re going, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“What? It’s the White House.”
Addison raised the note and read the words again. She didn’t need to—she’d memorized them.
President Garrett would like to meet with Dean Riley. Today at three p.m. Please advise if she would like us to provide transportation. Please contact the president’s chief of staff for details.
She looked up at Roger who said, “I’ve already contacted them and made the arrangements.”
Great. At least she didn’t have to make that decision. But of course she was going. She replayed the last week’s worth of news in her head searching for a clue as to why she was being summoned. The president had made an appearance in the press room with his nominee of choice, Judge Landry, and George was being squired around to meet with senators in preparation for a smooth confirmation.
Maybe she was being tapped to take Landry’s seat on the court of appeals. But those kind of appointments, while important, rarely merited an in person visit to the White House. No, usually a prearranged phone call from the president was the closest connection between the nominee and her benefactor. One of the federal district judges she’d clerked for while in law school had taped his call and played it for visitors to his chambers, but he’d never actually had a face-to-face with the president who’d appointed him.
Would she see Julia there? Doubtful, but the very idea spurred a sense of nervous anticipation. Get over yourself. You should be more nervous about the scheduled meeting, not a chance run-in with a woman you lusted over. The heat of a warm blush spread across her face, and she looked up to see Roger waiting for instructions.
“Tell them I’ll be there, but cancel the car. I’ll drive.”
“I think it’s easier on them if they send the car. Security and all.”
“I’m perfectly capable of finding my way to the White House. This meeting is a little last-minute, which means I’m having to cancel my entire afternoon, so I’m not overly concerned about what’s easier for them.”
“Okaaay.” Roger gave her an I think you’re a little bit crazy look and then spun on his heel and left the room. After he shut the door, Addison paced the room. The suit she had on wasn’t the one she would’ve chosen for a meeting with the president, but red would have to do since she didn’t have time to run by her apartment to change.
The next two hours sped by as she made a vain attempt to focus on work. Finally, she shoved her draft lesson plans into her briefcase and told Roger she was leaving for the day after she swore him to silence on her afternoon activities.
When she left the building, she shivered. The temperature had dropped significantly since she’d entered the office early this morning, and the gray skies promised snow. When she got in the car, she tuned to the local news to check the weather report. She’d been right about the snow, but thankfully, there was no ice in the forecast. But for now it was dry, and she made the drive into the city in record time. She valeted her car at The Hay-Adams and walked the block over to Pennsylvania and Fourteenth. She gave her name to the Secret Service agent at the gate, and he checked his list and passed her through. Anticipation rising, she walked the short distance to the second checkpoint and passed through the metal detectors, finally giving her name to the last gatekeeper before entering the area of the White House open to the general public. He motioned for her to wait in the lobby while he made a call.
She took a seat on a bench and gazed at the wall of portraits depicting past presidents and first families, seeking out her favorite—former first lady Grace Coolidge hugging her pet raccoon. She’d just about memorized every picture on the wall, when a young woman approached her with her hand outstretched.
“Mrs. Riley, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. I expected you at the West Wing entrance.”
She stood. “No one specified, so I came here. And it’s Ms. Riley. I’m not married.”
The youngster look flustered, which hadn’t been her intention. She smiled to soften the formality between them. “What’s your name?”
“I’m sorry. I’m Ella. Mr. Davy asked me to come and get you. Follow me?”
Addison stood and followed the young woman through the corridors of the historic building, trying not to look like a tourist. It was hard. She’d been here a number of times on business during her tenure as solicitor general, but there was never any time to look around and absorb the history of the place. When they reached the West Wing, the hallways were bustling with staff, managing the world, but nothing about the frantic pace negated the historical significance of the building. Finally, they arrived at the suite surrounding the Oval Office, and Ella handed her off to an elderly woman seated behind a large desk.
“Good afternoon, Dean Riley. May I get you something to drink while you wait?”
Addison envisioned coffee spilling down the front of her shirt and politely declined. The woman picked up her phone and notified someone that she was waiting. Addison settled back in her chair and took calming breaths as she contemplated what would happen next.
She recognized the man who came out to greet her. She’d seen him on the news. He was President Garrett’s chief of staff.
“Dean Riley, I’m Noah Davy. A pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand in a barely touching kind of way and turned to the woman behind the desk. “We’re going to head to the Mural Room for a few minutes, but we’ll be right back.”
He led the way, and Addison followed until they were both ensconced in the dark confines of the Mural Room. She resisted the urge to look at the paintings on the wall, instead focusing on reading Noah’s expression. His face was steel, which made it hard. Finally, giving up on her observational skills, she asked, “Any chance you could fill me in on why I’ve been summoned?”
“I’m sure you know.”
“I haven’t a clue.”
He stared at her, but she didn’t waiver. Finally, he looked away. “You know we’re vetting potential Supreme Court nominees.”
“Of course, but I was also under the impression you’d settled on your pick.”
“Things change.”
“That’s cryptic.”
“In a couple of hours, Judge Landry will officially withdraw his name from consideration for personal reasons.”
Addison started to ask how Julia felt about that, but held her tongue. For all she knew Julia had no idea she was even here. She’d glanced around as she’d been escorted through the building, but hadn’t seen any evidence of her presence. “That doesn’t really answer my question about why I’m here.”
“President Garrett would like to meet you. He’s in the Oval now. I’m supposed to take you there.”
Addison recalled the public announcement about Landry’s nomination. Garrett had held a press conference with Landry at his side. He made a brief speech touting Landry’s accomplishments and told the Senate via the reporters gathered, that he hoped for a swift confirmation process to enable the important work of the court to continue unabated. She remembered scoffing at the television screen as she watched the beginning of a huge setback to progressives everywhere.
Apparently, things had changed. Landry was out, and she was about to meet with the man who’d chosen Landry to fill shoes twelve sizes too big for him. The only thing she knew for sure was that Noah wasn’t happy about her being here and she said as much.
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br /> He was quick to reply. “No, I’m not and I think the only reason you’re here is your friendship with Senator Armstrong.”
“I like when people say what they think, but I have to ask, do you know anything about me other than the fact I know Connie Armstrong?”
“I know enough. You’re the dean of a liberal school. You’re a member of the ACLU. You clerked for the most liberal judges this country has ever seen, and you’re big on expanding the constitution to suit a liberal agenda. The only thing in your favor is that you haven’t had the opportunity to author any opinions as a judge, so you’re only a judicial activist in waiting.”
“Wow, you forgot lesbian.”
He waved her off. “It’s not like you’re sporting a chick on your arm or babies in tow. In fact, it looks like you barely date enough to register on the sexual activity meter. For all the world knows, you’re just one very focused woman, the career-minded spinster. Yes, your sexual orientation is a concern, but it’s not the biggie.”
Surprised as she was that he’d obviously marshaled resources to monitor her sex life, she could tell he wasn’t quite done, and she focused on what he had to say next.
He paused long enough to create a sense of drama. “I have two words for you. Anita Harwood.”
Addison winced. She, like the rest of the world, had followed the confirmation hearings for Garrett’s first court of appeals nomination, one year into his first term. He’d taken a huge risk. Judge Harwood was one of the most liberal judges ever to serve on the federal bench. A senior federal judge in the Northern District of California, she’d authored dozens of opinions on everything from gay marriage to immigration to a woman’s right to choose. She had been a Weir in the making, and as a young and vibrant judge, she had a lifetime full of pushing the envelope ahead of her.
She’d been crushed. The right had dug up every aspect of her life and held it under a microscope for the world to see. It wasn’t unusual for federal judges to receive death threats, but public displays of vitriol against Judge Harwood bordered on the insane. From burning crosses in her front yard to boxes of hate mail, she underwent a constant public hazing while all the major news outlets streamed coverage of only slightly more civilized hazing in the Senate. After a brutal series of hearings and numerous histrionic speeches from the Senate floor, Garrett, facing the prospect that he’d never get any of his judicial appointments confirmed, had withdrawn Harwood’s nomination and settled on a safe moderate choice that everyone could agree on.
Addison remembered the day of the announcement well. She and her peers had moaned the shifting center of the court over beer and bourbon at the Old Ebbitt. The news about Landry’s nomination echoed the same bland refrain from the post-Harwood days, and she had to admit she was happy to hear Landry was withdrawing from consideration, while hoping his family emergency wasn’t serious.
“Why am I here?”
“Do you seriously not know?”
“I have a feeling, but I need to hear you say it.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen.” He stood and motioned for her to follow, stopping back in the reception area. “Someone else wants to tell you what he has in mind.” He nodded to the secretary and she picked up her phone and whispered a few quiet words into the handset before looking up.
“He’s ready. Go on in,” she said.
Chapter Eighteen
Some of the furnishings had changed, but the Oval Office still contained the same swirl of power Addison remembered. The seal on the floor, the Resolute desk, the museum show pieces on the walls. All the elements combined to overwhelm and intimidate visitors. She took a moment to ground herself before reaching to meet the president’s outstretched hand.
“Dean Riley, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“My pleasure, Mr. President.” It would be more of a pleasure if she knew why she was here.
“Have a seat.” The president motioned to one of the two couches in the room and she settled on the one closer.
“Noah, thanks for taking care of Dean Riley. I’ll take it from here.”
Addison watched Noah’s expression. He was obviously torn and had no desire to leave them alone, but the president’s tone had made it clear he was being dismissed.
“Thank you, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.”
President Garrett waited until Noah had cleared the door and it clicked shut to begin speaking. “Would you like something to drink?”
Three o’clock was too early to think about having a whiskey, wasn’t it? “No, sir. Thank you.”
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I only know what Noah told me and that wasn’t much.”
“What did he say?”
“That Judge Landry has pulled his name from consideration. For family reasons.”
“It wasn’t for family reasons.”
Addison leaned back against the couch. She was growing tired of cagey politicians. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what the real reasons were, but I imagine it had something to do with anticipated trouble for the confirmation hearings. Frankly, I’m surprised. Judge Landry is no Anita Harwood.”
With every word, she anticipated a prompt dismissal. What she got instead was a big laugh, and she couldn’t help but join in. After a few seconds of laughter, the president settled back and said, “You’re right, of course. Judge Landry is a good man, but he’ll never cause a ruckus like Judge Harwood did. In fact, I thought his confirmation would be quick and easy.”
“Exactly what you need right now.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud, but when he raised his eyebrows, she finished her thought. “The election was brutal. More divisiveness would not be in your best interest or the interest of the country.”
“You are much more politically minded than Judge Landry.”
“I’m a lot of things Judge Landry isn’t.”
“Let’s talk about some of those.”
“First, I need to know why I’m here. If we’re just chatting or if you’d like my input about a potential nominee, then I’m happy to share my opinions with you, but…” She didn’t want to presume. Thankfully, he saved her the trouble.
“You’re on the list of potential Supreme Court nominees.”
“A decoy?”
“Good guess under other circumstances, but that’s not the case.” He leaned forward. “Dean Riley, you’re near the top of the list. I don’t take the time to meet with decoys. I have my staff do that.”
“If you were to appoint me, you’re going to have a battle like you did with Judge Harwood. Ideologically, she and I are very much alike, not to mention the stakes are higher now.”
“I misjudged the timing when I put her name forward. I was too new, too green. I made a lot of mistakes then that I’ve since learned from.”
“Yet, you nominated Judge Landry.”
“I have my reasons for making the change. I won’t share them, but I will tell you I’m committed to selecting a more vocal candidate.”
“I have no judicial experience.”
“Only clerkships with some of the top judges in the country, including the man whose shoes you would be filling. What better legacy for Weir’s court than to have his protégé take his place?”
“Do you really believe that? We’ve barely even met and already you think I’d be the perfect fit?”
“I didn’t say that. I guess I’m just trying to gauge your interest. If you have no interest, then there’s no point in starting the interrogation.”
He smiled to soften the point, but he’d made it. And that was the key. Since Julia had first broached the idea, she had been so busy thinking about what would be good for the court and good for the country, that she hadn’t taken the time to decide how she would answer the call to service, if asked.
She’d walked the halls of the Supreme Court building, sat in the chief justice’s chambers, and written large portions of opinions that helped change the course of history. When th
e gallery of the courtroom for the highest court in the land filled with spectators, she’d had a special seat near the front, and she’d witnessed more historic events in one year than most people see in a lifetime.
But she’d always been one step removed. She didn’t wear the robe. She didn’t get to attend the Friday conferences where the justices entered their initial vote and determined who would author the majority opinion that would become the law of the land. Her name wasn’t on the opinions, wouldn’t be in the history books.
Maybe working one step away from power was her destiny. As solicitor general, she’d championed the arguments of the president, not her own. Her job in big law was more of the same, except the clients were corporations, wealthy enough to pay the huge fees she commanded. Even now, she was on the periphery, dealing with administrative issues, so others could teach and write. Was she ready to step out of the shadows, run the country’s highest court, direct the future of legal precedent?
It wouldn’t be easy. Just getting confirmed was likely to be a battle, no matter who was in her corner. Anita Harwood was still a household name—everyone remembered the scathing examination of her life and the persecution she suffered for not being bland, comfortable, centrist. She wondered if Anita would do it all again. She thought she knew, and all at once, she knew her own answer.
“Yes, Mr. President, I’m interested.”
“Great. Then I’d like to continue this conversation, but include the chair of the search committee.”
Addison nodded and he pressed a button on the phone nearest him and told his secretary to “send her in.” She was still so swept up in her decision to go forward she didn’t think about who would be joining them until Julia walked through the door, looking every bit as delicious as she had the very first time they’d met. Here, at the White House.
President Garrett stood when Julia entered and waved a hand between them. “I don’t know if you two remember, but you met at Judge Weir’s funeral.”
Addison’s head spun as the memory of that day came crashing back. After the solemn scene at the Supreme Court building and the emotional service at Saint Matthew’s, the reception at the White House had been the first moment in days she’d been able to take a breath, enjoy the company of old friends, and share tales of the giant man who’d loved her like a father. And then, like a faded romance cliché, she’d spotted Julia across a crowded room. Her energy had been intoxicating and her obvious nonchalance about the power she commanded had made her even more irresistible.