Dev shook her head gravely. "No. That's the last thing I want. What I want is for you to be happy and comfortable here."
Lauren nodded. She didn't know if that was still possible. But she was bound and determined to try. The writer lifted her chin. "I'm no quitter, Devlyn." She blinked away her remaining tears, splashing a salty drop on her cheek.
Dev reached out tentatively, her hand moving so slowly that Lauren could detect its faint trembling. "I know you're not." Devlyn chuckled softly. "Why do you think I wanted you in the first place?"
Lauren smiled when soft fingertips grazed her cheeks, gently brushing away her tears. She laughed nervously, unconsciously leaning into Dev's touch.
"Are we done arguing?"
A quick bob of the head.
"Good. Because I just discovered that I really hate arguing with you." Dev smiled, the relief coursing through her nearly enough to make her dizzy.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, and Dev dropped her hand from Lauren's cheek. "Sometimes, after fussing with a friend, a hug can feel really nice," she offered gingerly, still not sure she was on solid footing with the biographer.
Lauren needed no further invitation. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Dev's solid, lanky form, sighing with relief when Dev mirrored her actions and squeezed her gently but firmly. Her face was pressed against Dev's shirt, and her heart was thumping double time, she realized. But she could feel Devlyn's pounding pulse in return. She pulled in a deep, comforting breath, catching the faintest whiff of the President's perfume.
Oh, God. Devlyn pressed her face into Lauren's soft, wavy hair, praying – hoping – that the smaller woman couldn't feel her heart, which was about ready to pound out of her chest. She squeezed a little tighter, then realized that her friendly two or three seconds were up, and she'd have to release Lauren. Dev was about to speak when Lauren's door opened, and she looked up to find Christopher and Aaron staring back at her.
Lauren's gaze flicked to the door, and she affected a deer in the headlights look as the boys watched on, oblivious to the room's mounting tension.
"The dog," Dev whispered in Lauren's ear, her warm breath causing a slight tremor in the writer. "They're here for him."
Lauren suddenly whistled, and Gremlin poked his head out from under the bed where he was hiding. He saw Devlyn and immediately growled, baring tiny crooked teeth.
"Gremlin!" the boys shouted happily.
The dog bounded across the room. But not before stopping in front of Devlyn and offering another short growl. Then he ran over to the boys, who immediately began playing with him, forgetting all about the fact that their mother and Lauren were still wrapped in a loose embrace.
Lauren stared for a moment. "That's amazing. Gremlin hypnotizes them."
"It's true. My children are slaves to the cult of Gremlin."
They both burst out laughing and reluctantly disentangled themselves from each other.
Dev spied the broken coffee table. "Next time you get mad at me, you might want to hit me. I doubt I'm worth as much as that table."
"Sweet Jesus," Lauren drawled, her Southern accent popping out in full force. She examined the shards of wood scattered on the carpet and gulped. "How much was it worth?" Not that I really want to know. But I'm sure Michael Oaks is running me a tab, so I might as well hear it now.
Devlyn crossed her arms. "Dunno. It was made for Andrew Jackson. It's a one of a kind historical piece. Completely irreplaceable." I will not laugh. I will not.
Lauren's eyes grew wide as her voice grew weak. "It was," she uttered glumly. I so should have stayed in bed this morning. Well, except for that hug. I'd get out of bed for one of those any day of the week.
"Yeah. It was," Dev commiserated. "I heard they had appraisals done on it last year, from both Christie's and Lloyds of London. It was too expensive to insure."
Lauren could hear the smile in Dev's voice, and she glanced up from the coffee table to see twinkling eyes. "Lloyds of London, huh?" Her tone was skeptical.
Dev laughed. "Okay, would it make you feel any better to know that I bought it at a yard sale in college, paid four bucks for it, and refinished it myself? It came with me from Ohio."
"You rat!" She made a mock angry face, but still said a small prayer of thanks. "Does this mean I don't have to sell a kidney?"
"No kidney." Dev arched a droll brow. "But you owe me four bucks."
* * *
"C'mon in." Lauren opened the door to her quarters, a soft, yellow light from the lamp she'd left on spilling into the hallway. "You're going to love this picture. I just developed it over lunch. She was giving a speech to Congress."
Dev's eyebrows hiked up behind her bangs. "Ashley?" Please tell me she wasn't a Republican.
The women stopped in front of Lauren's desk. The shorter woman grinned and handed Devlyn the picture. "Uh huh."
Dev chuckled and held the photo at eye level. "So that's why she's wearing my blazer." The navy jacket hung nearly to the floor on the seven-year-old, its broad shoulders making her head appear tiny. "She's so cute."
"She looks just like you."
Devlyn felt a flush working its way up her neck. "I suppose so," she admitted sheepishly, although Lauren could still hear the pride in her voice. "Samantha always told me the same thing." Dev suddenly paused as though she'd said something wrong. She felt a twinge of guilt, and her throat began to close. With a start, she realized that she hadn't thought of Samantha in days... hadn't said her name in weeks. Tears filled her eyes, coming so fast she couldn't stop them.
Lauren laid a gentle hand on Devlyn's arm. "You miss her a lot, I'm sure." She smiled sympathetically, at a total loss as to what else she could say.
By the time Lauren had divorced her ex-husband, there were no tears of grief for her; not that there had been many to begin with. She had been more upset by her own failure to make the marriage work than by losing him. And, by the bitter end, she was more than ready for it to all be over and to let go. Looking at the older woman, Lauren felt a little ashamed that she hadn't ever mirrored the stinging loss that was so evident in Dev's face.
Dev nodded weakly. "She was a very special person. But the world does keep spinning." Even if it took me a long time to really believe it. Her eyes fastened on Lauren's. "I don't think I was meant to walk through life alone." A wistful smile touched her face. "It's much more fun with somebody else."
"Depends on the somebody," Lauren said seriously.
Dev's voice was just as serious. "I guess it does."
A smooth, female voice interrupted the room's silence, and Lauren tore her gaze away from the riveting blue. "Incoming call from (865) 555-9537. Call forwarded from cell phone. Status: emergency."
Lauren sucked in a breath. Calls designated as emergencies didn't ring on the phone. An automated voice system kicked in instead. And she'd had her cell phone off all day. While she called home once a month, she had never, ever received a long distance phone call from her parents. Not caring that Devlyn was still in the room, she took the call. "Call accepted."
"Lauri?" a deep, male voice boomed in an accent that was far more pronounced than Lauren's.
"What's wrong, Daddy? Is it Mama?"
Dev wrapped her arm around Lauren's waist, bracing them both for bad news. Don't let someone be dead, Dev thought hastily.
There was a long pause and then a sigh. "She's been in bed all week. You know her."
Lauren looked concerned, and Devlyn wanted to ask about her mother, but Lauren's father spoke before she could.
"Holy hell, girl! I've been trying to get a hold of you since this morning. Do you know what time it is?"
"I know it's late. I just got back to my bedroom."
"Doesn't that lady President let you sleep?"
This, coming from a man who got up every morning at 4:30 A.M. for work. "Never mind about that. Daddy, what's wrong?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong." He quoted The Revealer at length, and both women cringed. That was
the tabloid rag that had used the phrase 'brainy sex kitten'. "Everybody is talking about it! Our phone has been ringing off the hook. I had to unplug the damned thing. And now there are a bunch of news people parked on our front lawn, and they won't leave!"
"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. We never meant for that to happen. And for the millionth time, tell Mama to stop reading that trash." Not that the 'respectable' papers were much better, she thought sourly.
"We?" The word was said with as much rancor as the man could muster. This couldn't possibly be true, could it? "Who exactly is 'we'?"
"Ummm..." Lauren fumbled for something to say, suddenly feeling very guilty despite the fact that she and Dev hadn't done anything wrong.
"Girl, are you living there? In the White House?"
"Surprise," she teased listlessly. "I was going to tell you next weekend when I called."
"You didn't tell them?!" Dev whispered harshly in Lauren's ear.
Lauren shrugged a little defensively as she pulled away from Dev. She had been abroad for nearly two years when she did Cardinal O'Roarke's biography. And her parents never inquired once about her exact whereabouts. Never asked her for her address. They were content to have her phone number, which they never used. It hadn't occurred to her to let them know anything other than the fact that she'd be in Washington D.C.
There was a pause while Howard Strayer covered the receiver with his palm. "I told you to get away from those bushes, God dammit!"
Lauren looked at Devlyn in panic when she heard the unmistakable sounds of her father's shotgun being loaded.
"Mr. Strayer, this is Devlyn Marlowe," Dev jumped in. "Please don't shoot the press. I'll make sure your local police keep them from trespassing on your lawn."
Lauren turned and looked at Dev, her jaw sagging. What are you doing, Devlyn?
"Yeah, right!" the man snorted. "And I'm the King of France."
Lauren covered her mouth, stifling a sudden laugh.
"I um... but I am Devlyn Marlowe!" Dev persisted indignantly.
"Girl, this is no laughing matter. And stop making your voice all deep and gravely like a man's. I should think you're too old for such nonsense."
Two sable eyebrows curved upwards. Dev put her hands on her hips and mouthed "Like a man?" to Lauren, who was now doubled over with laughter.
"Daddy, this really is President Marlowe," Lauren finally choked out when she caught her breath. She motioned to Dev. "Say something while I'm talking, so he'll believe me."
"Mr. Strayer, it really is me." Devlyn spoke over Lauren's renewed laughter.
"No shit?"
"No shit." Dev replied smoothly, now smiling herself.
"Well then, Madam President, I only have one question for you."
Dev tilted her head toward the intercom. "Yes?"
"What in the Sam Hill are you doing in my daughter's room at 11:30 P.M.?!"
Dev's eyes widened at the scolding, parental tone. Could someone else's father ground you? "Uhh..."
Oh, boy.
Sunday, February 21st
The writer liked Sundays. This fourth Sunday in the White House was quiet and nearly what an ordinary person would call normal. Why would anyone want this job? There was never really any time to rest. Even today, Dev was called into a meeting over a brewing crisis in the Middle East. This was the time she had set aside for the kids, and they all wanted to go outside and play in the fresh two inches of snow that had fallen overnight.
Lauren's plan was to stay in and write. Though she knew she needed to take Gremlin for a walk soon. Lauren was craving some time outside herself. Gray eyes slid over to her little companion, who was curled in a tight ball at her feet.
A noise drew her attention outside the window next to her bed, where she could see Christopher and Aaron and their Secret Service agents romping in the snow and having a good time, squealing as they pelted each other with soggy snowballs. The two young agents who were assigned to them were honestly playing, and looked to be having nearly as good a time as the children. She noticed several other agents standing in the background, drinking steaming beverages and keeping a watchful eye over the snowball fight.
The blonde woman stood up to get a better view of the winter mayhem and wondered where Ashley was in the melee. Her eyes searched the lawn, pale brows drawing together when she realized the little girl wasn't there. "Come on, Gremlin, let's go for a walk."
Gremlin jumped up as though he hadn't been snoring only seconds before. He was ready to go in an instant, bouncing wildly at Lauren's feet, circling her madly as she gathered up her jacket and his leash. She shook her head and laughed at the dog's antics. "Crazy." Bringing along Grem's leash was more a habit than anything else. Here at the White House he wasn't required to be on his lead.
There were faster ways for Lauren to get to the lawn, but she strolled along the route that took her by the kids' bedrooms and the President's living room. Sitting in the hall outside the living room was Agent Hamlin. As she and the dog approached, Gremlin darted into the living room ahead of her. Lauren laughed to herself. I'm going to have to leave you here when I'm finished with this assignment, aren't I, Grem?
At the doorway the writer paused, leaning on the frame and watching the dark-haired little girl, who had a few coloring books laid out in front of her. Her jacket and cap were balled up on the table next to her crayons.
Gremlin gave a little bark and Ashley immediately perked up, wiggling herself out of her chair and flopping onto the carpet to give him a loving scratching. Gremlin was purring as though he were a fat cat. He was clearly in canine heaven, and Lauren wondered what she could do in this life to insure coming back as a spoiled pooch in her next.
The woman took off her glasses and stuffed them into her jacket pocket, knowing they'd just get so steamy outside they'd be of no use anyway. Besides, they were bifocals and she really only needed them for reading and writing, but it was just easier to leave them on all day and not worry about it. She pushed off from the doorframe. "Hey, we're just about to go out for a walk. Would you like to go with us?"
Ashley looked up and gave her a little shake of her head. But the profoundly sad look in the little girl's eyes said more than most of the words the writer had ever put on paper. She stepped into the room and knelt down next to Gremlin.
"You sure?" she asked gently. "Your brothers are having a ball. Why aren't you out with them?"
Ashley glanced to the door but didn't say anything. Lauren sighed. "C'mon," she coaxed. "I think Gremlin wants to play. And I'm sort of tired this morning. You'd be doing me a big favor if you'd play with him for a while and wear him out."
"Really?" she asked interestedly, allowing the dog to lick her hand.
"Sure."
"But isn't it cold out?"
Lauren pursed her lips. Since when did a kid care about the temperature when it came to playing outside? "Well, I suppose. But you'll be bundled up, right? And we can always come back inside if it gets too chilly."
"Kay." The girl immediately brightened.
"Good." Lauren nodded. "You put on your coat and gloves and..." She looked at the big pile of clothes on the table. "And whatever else is in that pile, and I'll let Agent Hamlin know."
Ashley didn't bothering answering; she was already tugging on her boots.
Lauren marched purposefully to the door. Leaning out, she spoke very quietly. "Get your ass up out of that chair and get ready to go out. Ashley and I are taking Gremlin for a walk. It is not too cold to have a little fun outside. What do you think her brothers are doing at this very moment?" God, no wonder Ashley wasn't hitting it off with the agent. The woman acted like she was an old lady! Wasn't Emma enough for any household?
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