The First Counsel

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Truly, the definition of "tone deaf" is a herd of White House staffers singing "Happy Birthday" at the top of their lungs. By the time we're done with the song, I'm about a quarter way through the crowd. Still no Pam.

"Time for presents," the President announces. On cue, Christopher and Nora step up to the podium. For this, I stop.

She stands in front of us with a convincing smile. A month ago, I would've believed it. Today, I'm not even close to fooled. She's miserable up there.

Brushing his dark hair from his eyes and approaching the microphone with adolescent pride, Christopher lowers it to his height. "Mom, if you'd join us . . ." he says. As the First Lady steps forward, Nora leans awkwardly into the mike. "This is a present from me, Chris, and Dad," she begins. "And since we didn't want you to return it, we decided that I'd be the one to pick it out." The crowd fills in the sitcom laugh track. "Anyway, this is from us to you."

Nora picks up the red, white, and blue box that I know she didn't wrap and hands it over. But as the First Lady peels off the wrapping paper, something happens. There's a new expression on Nora's face. Her eyes dance with nervous excitement. This isn't part of the script. It's no longer Nora and the First Lady. It's just a daughter giving her mom a birthday present. The way Nora's bouncing on her heels, she's dying for Mom to like it.

The moment the box is opened, the crowd oooohs and ahhhhs. The TV crews pull in for the close-up. Inside is a handmade gold bracelet studded with tiny sapphires. Taking it out, Mrs. Hartson's first reaction--the first thing she does--is pure instinct. In slow motion, she turns to Dateline's camera with a radiant look and says, "Thank you, Nora and Chris. I love you."