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“No, sir,” she said.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. The offer’s open for a month. Change your mind before August, and you’re in. Meanwhile, don’t fret about your husband. Major Malich is going to have the full support of the White House and the Army. I guarantee that nothing bad will happen to him.”
That was all she could ask for. And he had a lot to do. No time for small talk. She thanked him, said good-bye, and hung up.
“He tried to hire you,” said Aunt Margaret.
“You heard my answer.”
“I heard you considering it,” said Aunt Margaret. “Hard thing to turn down, isn’t it? In the White House, when the President knows you and trusts you, you get real power, yes?”
“Yes, I suppose,” said Cecily. “Good thing I get all the power I want from bullying my children.”
“He promised to help your husband, but you still look worried.”
“I am worried,” she said. “Why am I worried?”
“You’re a Croat,” said Margaret. “Nothing’s ever so good but what it can all come crashing down, and Croats never forget that.”
“Yes, what was your toast at our wedding? ‘Every day that ends with you two still speaking to each other is a triumph over human nature.’ ”
“Or words to that effect,” said Margaret. “And I was right.”
“There’s something. Wrong. It’s . . . I don’t like the way he promised he could make everything go smoothly for Reuben. If there’s anyone on God’s green earth who knows that Congress cannot be controlled from the White House, it’s LaMonte Nielson.”
“Maybe he thinks he’ll still have clout in Congress.”
“No, he often said that the only President who ever controlled Congress was Johnson, and he did it by being a world-class . . . jerk.”
“A tush flambé,” said Margaret.
“And he can’t control the press, either. They’re going to try to kill Reuben’s reputation and dance on the grave.”
“He just got made President. He’s feeling grandiose.”
“He was never grandiose. But no, he was joking. Cajoling me.”
“And yet you’re still worried.”
“I’m worried because Reuben is off the radar. Is he coming here? Is he going somewhere else to hide? Is he leaving the country? Is he on some kind of assignment? Is he arrested? Is he . . .”
The front door slammed open.
“Oh, be gentle with my ancient house!” cried Aunt Margaret.
“Dad’s got a new car!” shouted Mark.
“He’s here,” breathed Cecily.
“Go help your father with his luggage,” called Margaret.
“He doesn’t have any!”
When Cecily got to the front door, carrying J.P., the garage door was already closing with Reuben and whatever car he was driving on the inside. So Cecily went back through the house and intercepted him at the inside garage door. They kissed and Reuben took J.P. into his arms and greeted the girls, who had already run downstairs. “Where’s Nick?” he asked.
“Reading about strong-thewed women and bewitching men,” said Mark.
“In the back yard,” said Cecily.
