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“I guess you get sick of it,” Elizabeth said, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she unpacked her suitcase and hung clothes in the hotel closet. “Everyone’s just worried.”
“Yeah.” Jane sighed again. “I know everyone wants to help, but I’m really fine. It’s been two months since B-Bing—” Her voice stuttered over the name and crackled over the international line. “Since then. I’m doing better.”
“Yeah, you are,” Elizabeth said softly. Even though Bing and Jane hadn’t been together for very long, their affair had grown intense quickly; Bing’s rejection, without an adequate explanation, had badly shaken the sensitive woman’s self-confidence.
Silently she cursed Charles Bingley for about the thousandth time for having broken up with her sister in that manner. According to Jane, their relationship had been smooth sailing—until he broke it off during the ball with the feeble excuse that his job didn’t allow time to date. Elizabeth had believed Bing might be “The One” for Jane. Boy, had she been wrong.
“The name ‘Bing’ just sounds way too fun for a guy who turned out to be such an ass,” she joked. “Maybe we should call him something else, like Jerkwad or Crapface.”
Jane laughed. “Yeah, call the chief of staff Crapface; that’ll score points with the administration.” She hesitated. “He’s going to be at the summit, isn’t he?” Her voice was a mere whisper.
Elizabeth perused the conference booklet detailing all the activities for the First International Paris Disaster Relief Summit. “The president will be giving a speech tomorrow night. I suppose it’s possible Bing came as well, but I’m not likely to run into them.”
“You do know them.”
Elizabeth snorted. “I’ve had a couple of close encounters, but I doubt anyone in the White House wants to renew our acquaintance.” And after George Wickham’s tale, I’ll avoid President Darcy like the plague.
She experienced a dull pang of guilt over owing George a call. They had been on two pleasant dates that had only confirmed Elizabeth’s lack of interest in anything romantic, though George was convinced they were soulmates. She had given him the “let’s be friends” speech, but he seemed likely to push for more.
“There are a lot of important people here,” she told Jane. “I can’t imagine that I’m a priority.”
She turned the page to a picture of the president. Elizabeth’s heartbeat accelerated. This is stupid. I see pict
ures of the president every day. Yeah, and this happens every time you see one, jeered the cynical voice at the back of her head. Okay, so the president is an attractive man, she admitted to herself. So what? It doesn’t mean anything to me. She turned the page.
“But what if—?”
“I’m going to do my best to avoid them,” Elizabeth said firmly. If I see the president, I’m going to be sorely tempted to give him a piece of my mind about his treatment of George Wickham. And that would not be advisable.
“I guess there’s no reason for Bing or the president to seek you out,” Jane said.
“I’m sure they don’t even know I’m here.”
***
“You want me to what?” Elizabeth must have misheard. Out of the blue, Margot, her boss, had summoned Elizabeth to the hotel suite that served as the Red Cross headquarters at the summit. It was a spacious room, dominated by a large conference table and accompanying swivel chairs.
Margot repeated her words more slowly. “I want you to brief the president and some of his staff about the Red Cross programs for refugees.”
“Why me?” Elizabeth winced when her voice squeaked.
Flipping her short, dark hair out of her eyes, Margot leaned back against the conference table and folded her arms. “You are well-versed in the policies and have had extensive field experience. You know that we need to get our name in front of the administration whenever we can. And we still haven’t heard whether we got the State Department grant.”
Bewildered, Elizabeth took a deep breath. Of course, she understood how important an opportunity it was, but the thought of seeing President Darcy… Her stomach churned sickeningly. “Craig has almost as much experience,” Elizabeth countered.
John, one of her more abrasive coworkers, drawled from across the room, “Most people jump at the chance to do a presentation for the president.”
Elizabeth ignored him, focusing on Margot. “I won’t be a good representative for the Red Cross. I’ll get all tongue-tied and incoherent.”
Margot lifted one eyebrow. “You yelled at the mayor of Pen na Nol and made him back down when he threatened the villagers in the church. There’s a much smaller chance of being shot here.”
“Don’t you want someone higher up the food chain?” Elizabeth asked. “There have to be five people here with more impressive titles.” Why me?
Margot shifted in her chair. “The truth is…the president’s staff requested you specifically.”
“What?” Alarm spiked down Elizabeth’s spine. “Why?” Knees suddenly weak, she sank into one of the chairs.
“I thought you might know.”
