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  “Maggie, it really was the White House, and, yes, it was definitely the president. I see and hear her on television all the time, so I recognized her voice. Well, aren’t you going to call her?”

  Maggie looked at Nikki and Alexis. “My phone is out of juice. I’ll call when I get back to the paper.”

  “She said ASAP, Maggie.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m eating lunch. She probably wants us to write some stuff about the White House. It can wait.”

  “If that were the case, as you well know, she would have called the newsroom or had her press secretary make the call. This was the president herself.”

  “She has a point,” Nikki said. “Here, use my phone.”

  Maggie’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “You can’t be serious. You want me to call the president of the United States in the middle of a restaurant with at least fifty people within earshot! I don’t think so.”

  “Maggie, I don’t think she’s calling you to rattle off the nuclear codes. Just call her, and I’ll bet you anything you want, she will be the one doing the talking, not you. Or, you can go to the ladies’ room and talk. But we want to hear! Just call!” Alexis hissed.

  Sally slid a small Post-it note across the table with the number Maggie was to call.

  Maggie shrugged, looked around furtively, and punched in the numbers. “This is Maggie Spritzer from the Post. I am returning—”

  The voice on the other end of the phone cut her off and said, “Hold for the president, Miss Spritzer.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes for the benefit of the girls, then jerked her head slightly to tell Sally that she should leave, which she did reluctantly.

  And then she heard the voice of the president. “Miss Spritzer, this is Martine Connor. Is it all right to call you Maggie?”

  Stunned, Maggie said, “Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Madam President. Everyone calls me Maggie.” She rolled her eyes again at her brilliant repartee. “What . . . what can the Post do you for, Madam President?”

  Maggie heard a tinkling laugh. “Oh, dear, I should have made it clear at the beginning. I’m not calling concerning the Post. This is a personal call.”

  Maggie almost fell off her chair. “Me personally! Wow! I mean, oh my gosh, what can I do for you, Madam President?”

  The tinkling laugh again. “I’m calling to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner at Camp David. I realize this is short notice, but that seems to be the way I do things lately. At the last minute so I don’t go crazy with details. If there’s someone you would like to bring with you, by all means, do so. Just stay on the line so my secretary can fill you in on the details. If you’re going to dinner with family, I understand.”

  “Thanksgiving dinner at Camp David! Wow! I mean, oh, my gosh, of course I would love to come. What should I wear?” Maggie blurted.

  The tinkling laugh sounded. “Whatever you feel comfortable in. It’s informal. I usually wear slacks and a sweater. Camp David can be drafty. I look forward to seeing you, then. Stay on the line now.”

  “Uh. Okay. Thanks for the invitation.” Maggie whispered for the benefit of the girls, “I have to stay on the line for details. Do you believe this? I’m going to Camp David for Thanksgiving. I’m going to take Jason with me. She said I could. Sort of my swan song with him. Shhh.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I can hear you. I think that’s a great idea. Just shoot me an e-mail, and I’ll take it from there.” Maggie rattled off her personal e-mail address, then broke the connection.

  Maggie looked first at Nikki, then Alexis. “Is this a coincidence or not?”

  “I don’t know what it is,” Nikki said, a frown building between her brows.

  “I’m not getting this,” Alexis said.

  “I’m not, either,” Maggie hissed. “Why me of all people?”

  “Why not you? Our president never does anything without a reason, according to Lizzie. I guess you’ll have to wait till you get to Camp David to find out. The bigger question here is, how are you going to tell Annie you’re blowing her off for the president of the United States?”

  “I don’t even want to think about that right now.” Maggie reached for the check and drew some bills out of her wallet. “Don’t look at me like that. I said this was my treat. Me, personally. I can’t put this lunch on my expense account. I have ethics, you know.”

  “Cranky, aren’t we, all of a sudden?” Alexis laughed. “And the best part is, not one of the customers in here knows you were conversing with the president of these here United States.” She laughed again at the expression on Maggie’s face.

  “How upset do you think Annie will be?” Maggie mumbled as she followed Nikki and Alexis out of the restaurant.

  “I think she’s going to go up in smoke. This is her first dinner at her new house. And she’s cooking it herself. I really think she’s going to be pissed to the teeth,” Nikki said with a straight face.

  “You might even find yourself on the unemployment line. Annie, as you know, can be feisty. Sometimes she takes no prisoners. This might be one of those times,” Alexis said, her tongue planted firmly in her cheek.

  “So if it was you she called, what would you have done?”

  Nikki and Alexis burst out laughing.

  “The same thing you did, ninny. We’re just yanking your chain, Maggie. Thanksgiving dinner at Camp David! It doesn’t get any better than that. You’ll be on the news, in all the papers. You are going to be famous. People will ask for your autograph. Before you know it, you’re going to need a press secretary to handle all your fan mail,” Alexis said.

  “You sure you want to take Mr. Coincidental, also known as Jason Parker, with you?” Nikki asked.

  “Who else am I going to take? I’m not going to know anyone there. I’m going to need someone to hang with. I don’t see me and Martine buddying up and having girl talk. So, yeah, I’m sure I’m taking him. Then I’ll blow him off when we get back.”

  As the wind buffeted and pushed them forward, Nikki managed to get the car door open, the three of them literally falling forward. “Which brings us to, what are you going to wear? Is it just the one day or for the weekend?”

  Maggie banged her head back against the headrest. “You had to bring that up, didn’t you? I don’t have a clue. I guess that kind person who is sending me the e-mail might cover all of that. Why didn’t I just say no?”

  Nikki turned to face Maggie in the backseat. “Because first and foremost you are a reporter, and your reporter instincts kicked in. You want to know the why and the what of the invitation. Go for it, Maggie. Stop worrying about Annie. She will understand. Speaking strictly for myself, I’m as curious as you are.”

  Alexis chirped up. “You might want to take that gold shield with you. You know, just in case. Whip that baby out, and the world is your oyster. Didn’t Lizzie say the president doesn’t know or didn’t want to know who we were going to give the shields to?”

  “Something like that,” Nikki said, turning the key in the ignition. “By the way, thanks for lunch, Maggie. And thanks for the entertainment.”

  Alexis giggled and agreed. Maggie just groaned.

  Maggie quickly opened her e-mail the moment she reached her office. She read it once, then twice, then three times, until she had it committed to memory. The Secret Service would be picking her and Jason Parker up at her home in Georgetown and ferrying them to the White House, from where they and six other guests would be flown to Camp David on the president’s helicopter, Marine One. Should her choice of bring-along guest change, she should call the number provided immediately. The e-mail went on to explain that while whatever presidential plane had the president aboard was denominated Air Force One, the helicopter with the president in it was Marine One since the Marine Corps was responsible for flying and maintaining it. Dress was informal. Departure for the return would be Sunday at 0800 hours. The last thing the e-mail asked was if either she or her guest had any food allergies. “Respond as soon as possible,” was the way the message ended. There
wasn’t even a signature at the end.

  Maggie leaned back in her swivel chair, her eyes still on the printed e-mail. Why wasn’t she elated at being invited to Camp David? She closed her eyes as she pictured Nikki’s and Alexis’s expressions when they were talking about Jason Parker. Neither woman knew him, and yet they seemed to know about him. Then there was Lizzie and that strange expression in her eyes. She remembered how creepy she had felt when they talked about coincidence. Maybe she shouldn’t take Jason to Camp David with her. Since she hadn’t asked him, it wouldn’t be a problem to cancel Maggie and guest. Then whom would she take? Her secretary? Such a dilemma.

  Now she was irritated. With the situation and with herself. So irritated she barked, “Come in,” when she heard a knock on her door. She looked away from her computer screen to see Jason Parker standing in the doorway. She continued to bark, “What are you doing here?” The bark didn’t lessen when he advanced a step without being invited forward. Maggie clicked SAVE, and her screen went blank.

  “Bad day?” Parker asked cheerfully.

  “Don’t you ever work? You keep showing up here out of the blue. Did we have a meeting I forgot about?” The bark was by then a snarl. She tilted her head and saw Ted Robinson motioning to her and waving a fistful of papers at her from the doorway. The snarl became even snarlier, if there was such a word, when she said, “What do you want?”

  Ted continued to wave the papers back and forth from the doorway. Maggie held up her hand, a signal for him to wait, that she’d get to him in a minute.

  Maggie focused on Jason Parker. “I do not conduct social business here at the paper. Please stop popping in here unannounced. From here on in if you want to get in touch with me, do it via e-mail or a phone call. Now, sit there while I take care of some business.”

  Properly chastised, Parker sat down across from Maggie’s desk. He looked like an errant schoolboy caught red-handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Maggie’s eyes bored into him as she made her way to the door, then closed it behind her to talk to Ted.

  Maggie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, looked squarely at Ted, and said, “What do you have for me?”

  Instead of answering her, Ted said, “I think I know that guy. Isn’t he that financial guru everyone in town is lined up to invest with? Don’t tell me we’re going to be doing another story on him. I’ll pass on it if we are.

  “Jesus, Maggie, don’t tell me you’re going to invest with him. Ooops, none of my business. Forget I mentioned it. By the way, congratulations on buying that house. It’s good to put down roots. Georgetown is the place to do it.”

  Maggie eyed her former fiancé to see if he was pulling her leg. She decided he was sincere and thanked him. “It’s a bit overwhelming at the moment, but it’s like everything else. I’ll get used to making mortgage payments and worrying about my pipes and wood rot. Yes, that’s Jason Parker, and I don’t know why he’s here, and no, I am not investing with him, not that it’s any of your business who I invest with.” It was true, she didn’t know why Jason Parker was there.

  “Here!” Ted said, shoving a packet of papers at her. “The financials you wanted on that contractor you were so convinced is on the take. He’s clean, so you might have to shift your focus in another direction,” he said, referring to a story Maggie had assigned to him. “Looks like nothing is going on in the next few days, so I’m going to cut out and spend some quality time with Mickey and Minnie. Guess I’ll see you at Annie’s on Thanksgiving. You okay, Maggie? You look kind of funny.”

  Was she okay? No, not really. “Listen, Ted, I want you to do a . . . deep background check on Jason Parker. From the day he came out of the womb. Let’s keep this just . . . just between us for the time being. Oh, one other thing. I won’t be going to Annie’s for Thanksgiving. I was . . . I am . . . invited to Camp David for the weekend. The president herself called me while I was at lunch with Nikki and Alexis. I was . . . I was stunned, Ted.” She realized at that instant how easy it was to fall back into the old familiar groove with him. A comfort zone, so to speak.

  Ted’s eyebrows shot upward. He grinned. “Looks like you hit the big time. Watch out for those politicians, or they’ll eat you up and spit you out. Or are you thinking there is something devious about this invitation?”

  “Listen, Ted, hang around for a few more minutes, until I get . . . till I see what Parker wants. I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Make some coffee. Call the bakery and have them send over some cream puffs or eclairs or something sweet. By the way, where is Espinosa?”

  “Men’s room. Okay, coffee and sweets coming up,” Ted said cheerfully. Too cheerfully to Maggie’s liking.

  Back in her office, Maggie’s snarly mood returned. She looked at Jason Parker, sitting in the chair across from her desk, really looked at him, trying to imagine what Nikki, Alexis, and even Ted would think about him if they got up close and in his face. He was tall, fit. Just the right amount of gray in the sandy hair at his temples. Interesting face. A Kirk Douglas cleft in his strong chin. Killer teeth some dentist somewhere was proud of. Winsome smile, masculine laugh. Nails blunt cut, buffed but not polished. Strong hands. Dressed well, spit shine to his shoes. Nothing ostentatious. Drove a Lexus. That was what she saw. Three-bedroom apartment in the Watergate. That was her guess. Nikki and Alexis—now, that was different. They didn’t know Jason Parker was a good kisser, didn’t know that he was attentive, that he held her chair for her, opened the car door for her. They would think his smile was practiced. Maybe even calculating.

  To her dismay, Ted had already formed an opinion, without even knowing she was seeing and kissing Jason Parker.

  Crap!

  “Looks like I came by at a bad time,” Parker said, getting to his feet. “I’ll call before I stop by again. At least this little visit allowed me to warm up. I walked all the way from the office. This is where you’re supposed to feel sorry for me. Ah, I see that isn’t working.” A second later he was on his feet. “Dinner this evening?”

  “I can’t. Listen, Jason, I . . . How would you like to go to Camp David for Thanksgiving dinner?”

  Parker’s eyes almost bugged out of his head! Maggie knew the man was rarely if ever surprised at anything, but at that moment he was stunned as well as speechless.

  “The Camp David?”

  “That’s the one. Here,” she said, pressing a key on her computer to print out another copy of the e-mail she’d just read. She watched as he read the terse instructions.

  “Well, this would certainly look good on a résumé if I was ever going to send one out. I’d be delighted to accompany you, Maggie, and thank you for inviting me.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie drawled. “Look, I really have to get to work. I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Breakfast tomorrow?”

  “No, I have an early engagement. I’ll see you Thursday morning at seven thirty.”

  Parker was dismissed, and he knew it. He was out the door and almost to the elevator before Maggie got her wits about her. Her insides churning, she made her way down the hall to the kitchen. Ted was paying the bakery clerk for an oversize box of pastries. The coffee smelled wonderful. She watched as Ted poured out two cups, then reached up for the paper plates. Maggie felt a catch in her throat. She’d always loved these little meetings in the kitchen.

  “So, what did that guy want?”

  Maggie cleared her throat. Sometimes, a white lie was okay. “To tell me he was going to Camp David for Thanksgiving and thought it would make a good article for the Life section. He does like to beat the bushes for self-promotion.”

  “To which you said . . . ?”

  “ ‘I might see you there since I’m also invited, ’ and no, I didn’t think it was noteworthy enough to put in our Life section. I think he was disappointed.”

  Ted eyed the box of cream puffs as he decided if he should opt for a third or not. “And you think this means what? Is there something you aren’t telling me? I’m sort of no
t liking what I’m thinking right now, Maggie.”

  “And what are you thinking, Ted?” Maggie snapped.

  “Is this personal? Are you involved with this guy?”

  That question didn’t come under the heading of a white lie. Involved to Ted meant sex. She could truthfully answer that question, but she was splitting hairs and knew it. “No, I am not involved.”

  She justified her answer to herself by saying that she had breakfast and dinner with a lot of people. And if you wanted to split hairs even further, she kissed some of those people. Maybe not on the lips, but on the cheek or one of those air kisses. So she was guilty of lip kissing, tongue kissing, but that didn’t mean she was involved.

  “Do I look like I’m involved? The answer is no.”

  Ted reached for an eclair with chocolate frosting. “So why are we doing this investigation into his background? What else do you have besides your reporter’s gut instinct? Is he on some watch list somewhere?”

  Is he? He was definitely on Nikki and Alexis’s watch list. “Sort of . . . kind of . . . then again, maybe not. I just don’t know, okay? Can you just do what I tell you and not pick it to death, Ted?”

  “Sure, Maggie. Are you sure nothing is wrong? Look, just because we aren’t a couple anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. I would try to move the earth for you if you needed me to do it. I’m just saying you can count on me.”

  Hot tears pricked Maggie’s eyes. “I know that, Ted, and I would do the same for you.”

  Espinosa took that moment to enter the kitchen. He took one look at the intense expressions on his boss’s and his colleague’s face and turned around to leave.

  “Come on in, Espinosa. Have a cream puff. Ted made fresh coffee. I just gave Ted an assignment, and I want you on it, too. You two kick it around a while. I have to get back to work.”

  When the kitchen door closed behind Maggie, the two reporters looked at one another. “Maggie has been personally invited to Camp David by the president for Thanksgiving,” Ted said, his voice so flat, Espinosa reared up in his chair.