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Authors: Jennifer Lynn Barnes
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United States sits down next to you and asks you if you would like a scone, you say yes.
“
Now
you want a scone?” Ivy said, sounding somewhat disgruntled.
“Tea?” Georgia Nolan ignored Ivy and focused on me.
I smiled, no lips. “Tea would be lovely.”
“Lovely?” Ivy repeated incredulously. “You don’t think anything is
lovely
.”
“Hush,” the First Lady told her. I’d never seen anyone hush Ivy before. It was almost enough to make me forget the fact that there were two Secret Service agents watching our every move.
“You cleared the room,” Ivy commented.
“There have been some threats,” Georgia replied, passing me some jam for my scone. “Apparently, some radical groups blame me for my husband’s foreign policy decisions.”
Ivy snorted. “Imagine that.” She paused. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I’m here because Bodie told me that you would be,” Georgia replied.
“Bodie’s fired,” Ivy said.
Georgia waved a hand. “Bodie is always fired. And to answer your question, no, I’m not here about the threats. I’m here because I understand that a mutual friend paid you a visit.”
Georgia Nolan was Southern—very Southern. I had a feeling she used the word
friend
loosely.
“And,” the woman added, “I’m here to meet Tess.” She turned to me. “I asked Ivy to bring you by the White House. She politely declined.”
“I wasn’t that polite,” Ivy muttered.
I wasn’t sure what surprised me more—the fact that the First Lady was apparently one of Ivy’s clients, or the fact that Ivy didn’t treat her like a client.
She treated her like family.
“I was very sorry to hear about your grandfather, Tess.” Georgia Nolan reached over and squeezed my hand. “From what I hear, he is a good man.”
I stared down at my tea. She’d used the present tense.
He
is, I thought, clinging to that one word.
He
is
a good man. He
is
tough and smart and more like me than either one of us would ever admit.
I could feel Ivy’s eyes on me. I swallowed back the rush of emotion I’d felt at the First Lady’s words. “Justice Marquette has—had—a grandson who goes to Hardwicke,” I said, still staring at the rim of my cup. Better to talk about anyone else’s grandfather than my own. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” My eyes flitted back up to the First Lady’s hazel ones. “Ivy fixes problems. A dead Supreme Court justice is a problem.”
“No,” the president’s wife replied, her voice never losing its warmth. “Theo Marquette’s death is a tragedy.” She studied me for a moment, then continued, “And, quite frankly, it’s an opportunity, tragic though it may be.” She set her tea down. “And speaking of,” she said, turning her attention back to Ivy, “I’m guessing that’s why William paid you a visit?” Georgia gave a small, close-lipped smile. “He has thoughts on the nomination and wants your whisper in this administration’s ear.”
William.
It took me a second to process the name.
As in William Keyes.
“Georgia.” Ivy gave the older woman a quelling look and then darted a meaningful glance toward me. The First Lady held Ivy’s gaze for a moment, then inclined her head slightly.
“Tess,” Georgia said, “could you give us a moment?”
When the First Lady of the United States asks you to give her a moment, you give her a moment. I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she and Ivy had finished discussing whatever they were discussing.
Georgia stood. She reached over and laid a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know which way Peter is leaning on nominees,” she told her, giving Ivy’s shoulder a squeeze. “In the meantime, do keep your ear to the ground.” Then she smiled. “And when things settle down, you and Tess
are
coming over for dinner.”
CHAPTER 16
This was what my life had become: on Tuesday, the First Lady insisted I simply
had
to dine at the White House at some point in the near future; on
“
Now
you want a scone?” Ivy said, sounding somewhat disgruntled.
“Tea?” Georgia Nolan ignored Ivy and focused on me.
I smiled, no lips. “Tea would be lovely.”
“Lovely?” Ivy repeated incredulously. “You don’t think anything is
lovely
.”
“Hush,” the First Lady told her. I’d never seen anyone hush Ivy before. It was almost enough to make me forget the fact that there were two Secret Service agents watching our every move.
“You cleared the room,” Ivy commented.
“There have been some threats,” Georgia replied, passing me some jam for my scone. “Apparently, some radical groups blame me for my husband’s foreign policy decisions.”
Ivy snorted. “Imagine that.” She paused. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I’m here because Bodie told me that you would be,” Georgia replied.
“Bodie’s fired,” Ivy said.
Georgia waved a hand. “Bodie is always fired. And to answer your question, no, I’m not here about the threats. I’m here because I understand that a mutual friend paid you a visit.”
Georgia Nolan was Southern—very Southern. I had a feeling she used the word
friend
loosely.
“And,” the woman added, “I’m here to meet Tess.” She turned to me. “I asked Ivy to bring you by the White House. She politely declined.”
“I wasn’t that polite,” Ivy muttered.
I wasn’t sure what surprised me more—the fact that the First Lady was apparently one of Ivy’s clients, or the fact that Ivy didn’t treat her like a client.
She treated her like family.
“I was very sorry to hear about your grandfather, Tess.” Georgia Nolan reached over and squeezed my hand. “From what I hear, he is a good man.”
I stared down at my tea. She’d used the present tense.
He
is, I thought, clinging to that one word.
He
is
a good man. He
is
tough and smart and more like me than either one of us would ever admit.
I could feel Ivy’s eyes on me. I swallowed back the rush of emotion I’d felt at the First Lady’s words. “Justice Marquette has—had—a grandson who goes to Hardwicke,” I said, still staring at the rim of my cup. Better to talk about anyone else’s grandfather than my own. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” My eyes flitted back up to the First Lady’s hazel ones. “Ivy fixes problems. A dead Supreme Court justice is a problem.”
“No,” the president’s wife replied, her voice never losing its warmth. “Theo Marquette’s death is a tragedy.” She studied me for a moment, then continued, “And, quite frankly, it’s an opportunity, tragic though it may be.” She set her tea down. “And speaking of,” she said, turning her attention back to Ivy, “I’m guessing that’s why William paid you a visit?” Georgia gave a small, close-lipped smile. “He has thoughts on the nomination and wants your whisper in this administration’s ear.”
William.
It took me a second to process the name.
As in William Keyes.
“Georgia.” Ivy gave the older woman a quelling look and then darted a meaningful glance toward me. The First Lady held Ivy’s gaze for a moment, then inclined her head slightly.
“Tess,” Georgia said, “could you give us a moment?”
When the First Lady of the United States asks you to give her a moment, you give her a moment. I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she and Ivy had finished discussing whatever they were discussing.
Georgia stood. She reached over and laid a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know which way Peter is leaning on nominees,” she told her, giving Ivy’s shoulder a squeeze. “In the meantime, do keep your ear to the ground.” Then she smiled. “And when things settle down, you and Tess
are
coming over for dinner.”
CHAPTER 16
This was what my life had become: on Tuesday, the First Lady insisted I simply
had
to dine at the White House at some point in the near future; on
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