Shakeup

27

Stone was halfway through a drink when the first Secret Service agent entered the restaurant and walked the length of the room and back, looking exactly like a Secret Service agent. Half the room was twigged, and the conversation level dropped by that much.

Holly walked in, wearing a full-length cape with a hood that partly concealed her face, and the restaurant-goers leapt to their feet and gave her a round of applause. So much for discretion. Two agents took up places with good views of the suspect diners.

Stone held her chair, and seated her with her back to the room. “Forgive me for not kissing you, but we would have made the papers,” she said, keeping the hood up.

“We’re going to make the papers anyway.” Stone sighed. “I’ll bet there’s already a mob outside the front door. You may as well give them a look at that gorgeous hair.”

She did so, and the room went, “Ahhhh.”

“They’re repositioning the cars,” she said. “Maybe that will throw them off.”

“I’ll give the agents a suggestion: when we’re ready to leave, I’ll have Fred pull up with the Bentley, while the photogs are camped next to your cars down the street. The cars will catch up, but it will be too late for the shutterbugs.”

“That could work,” she said, “once.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep being inventive.”

“Or come to Washington now and then.”

“Do you really think it would be any better there?”

“Well... Camp David could work, if we take separate helicopters.” She laughed.

“I’ll put that escape at the top of the list.”

Menus arrived and, at Holly’s suggestion, Stone ordered for both of them.

“I’ll gain ten pounds,” she said.

“Just eat a third of it. We’ll take the rest home, so we won’t have to go out tomorrow evening.”

“I’m afraid we’ve only got tonight,” Holly said. “Big jam-up in the Oval the morning after, and I have to direct traffic.”

“Tell me something that you can’t tell me about,” Stone said.

“I can’t tell you about that.”

“Of course not, that’s the point.”

“I’m a stickler for the rules. If I start leaking, it will become a trend.”

“How are Ham, Ginny, and Daisy?” he asked, speaking of her father, her stepmother, and her dog. “Or are they off-limits?”

“They’re not, as long as you don’t ask me where they are.”

“Where are they?”

“Visiting Ginny’s folks in Virginia. Dammit, you tricked me!”

“You’re easy.”

“More than you know,” she said. “Eat fast.”

Sometime during the night he woke up, and Holly was crying. Not bawling, but he could tell.

He kissed at her tears. “We can do this,” Stone said. “Let’s just enjoy what we can. Dinner with you is better than a dozen with Dino.”

“I hope I’m a better lover, too,” she said, wiping her eyes with the corner of a sheet.

“You’ll have to ask Viv about that. Is there anyone in the White House you can talk to? Anybody completely trustworthy?”

“There’s my secretary, Anna, who came with me from State, but she’s sixty-four and turns beet-red if I mention the word sex.”

“Then there’s just me,” he said. “There’s always the encrypted telephone.”

“Oh, I meant to tell you: the NSA tells me the Russians are trying to break in to that.”

“Swell. Do we know when?”

“The Russians never rest.”

“Go back to sleep,” he said, cuddling her.

She was up before dawn. He could hear her singing tunelessly in the shower, then he dozed off, only to be awakened by the hair dryer.

She came and sat on the bed. “I’m going to appoint a special committee at the National Security Council to come up with a list of secure places we can make love.”

“How about my place in Maine? There’s nobody there in the winter.”

“That would entail flying Air Force One to Boston, then boarding a U.S. Navy cruiser to somewhere off Southwest Harbor, then a Navy SEALs assault boat to your dock.”

“I’ll think again,” he said.

“You keep doing that.” She gave him a deep kiss and was gone.

He could hear the car doors slamming downstairs.

The bell on the dumbwaiter woke him again; breakfast was on its way up. Helene had not gotten the word; it was for two. He sent one back downstairs and took the other to the bed. He switched on the TV and the morning news showed Holly and Sam Meriwether walking past the Rose Garden and into the Oval Office, as if she had never left Washington.

Dino called. “You’re all over Page Six again,” he said.

“We can’t just have a quiet dinner in an Upper East Side restaurant anymore,” Stone said.

“Next time, you should have the management take the patrons’ cell phones as they enter.”

“It wouldn’t work,” Stone said. “A dishwasher, or somebody, would call us in for the standard fifty bucks.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“You know where Holly wanted to have dinner? P.J. Clarke’s. Can you imagine?”

“It would have been a zoo.”

“Worse. Somebody at a nearby table would have recorded our conversation.”

“Are you ever going to get used to this?”

“I doubt it,” Stone said. “Moving a president around is a big transportation challenge, and somebody will always notice. Holly suggested Camp David, if we each had a helicopter.”

Dino laughed. “You keep trying!” He hung up.