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“Picnics suck. I’m going to the mall.”
Button scrambled to the end of the bed closest to Mat and would have fallen if Nealy hadn’t grabbed her by the ankle, then gently lowered her over the side. “I don’t think there are too many malls around here.”
“There’s one in the next town,” Lucy countered. “This girl at the pool told me.”
Button pulled herself up on the side of the bed and shrieked at Mat, who was looking around the room for the keys that were tucked into the pocket of Nealy’s shorts.
“Let’s go to the mall and then go on a picnic, ” she said reasonably.
“What’s this thing you’ve got with picnics?” Mat stopped just behind her. “And where are the keys to that old junker?”
“I think picnics are fun. No!”
But she’d grabbed for her stomach too late. He’d already reached under her top from the back and pulled open the ties. “First I’m going to burn this, then I’m heading down to the garage to hold all the mechanics hostage until Mabel’s fixed.”
She grabbed the padding from him and thrust it in her satchel. “We can stop at the garage on our way to the mall before the picnic.”
“Ohmygod, look!” Lucy exclaimed.
Nealy turned just in time to see Button take three tottery steps across the open carpet toward Mat.
“She’s walking!” Lucy’s eyes danced. “I was getting so worried. She’s a year old, and her dad was a moron, and—” She snapped her mouth shut, unwilling for them to see any emotion from her except disdain. Even so, she still couldn’t quite hide her pride, and Nealy wanted to hug her.
Button made a lunge for Mat’s leg, but he was too far away, and she began to tumble. He scooped her up like a linebacker retrieving a loose football.
“Daaaa . . .” She gazed at him worshipfully.
Mat frowned.
She cocked her head to the side and fluttered her lashes.
“I think I’m gonna hurl,” Lucy said.
Nealy giggled.
He shot her a sour look, then tucked Button under his arm like a potato sack. “Nobody’s going anywhere if I don’t find the keys.”
“I’m driving,” Nealy said brightly. “You had a hard day yesterday.”
“You’ve got them?”
She’d had years of practice avoiding answering direct questions. “I just hope it doesn’t rain today. Grab the diaper bag, Lucy. We’re off!”
She snatched up her own purse, along with the satchel that held her things, clutched them in front of her flat stomach, and charged into the hall. The doors of the elevator were starting to close, but she managed to slip inside, leaving the rest of them behind. When she reached the lobby, she didn’t glance either right or left, just kept her stomach covered and headed for the parking lot.
As she settled into the antique Oldsmobile, she reached for her satchel, then had second thoughts about putting the padding back on. Mat clearly detested it, and he was perfectly capable of making a public scene. With her short hair and cheap clothes, she was a far cry from America’s stylish First Lady. Would it be riskier to test Mat or go without and hope that she could pull it off?
As she debated, Mat came out of the lobby door with a scowl on his face, while Lucy trailed behind carrying Button.
Nealy stared at the Fed Ex envelope he was holding and realized she’d once again let the business of daily living get away from her. Three years of enjoying the efficiency of the White House mail room had made her lose touch. But this package had been too important for her to forget, and she needed to remember she no longer had an army of secretaries ready to hand over her private mail.
The system the White House used to separate personal correspondence from the thousands of pieces of public mail the first family received every day was simple and effective. Intimates of the President and his family were given a numerical code to include with the address—she and Dennis had chosen 1776—which shot private mail straight to their desks.
Mat braced one hand on the roof of the truck and stared through the open window at her. “The desk clerk stopped me. You didn’t tell me you were expecting a package.”
“And your point is?” She held out her hand, but he didn’t pass over the envelope.
Lucy disengaged Button’s fingers from her hair. “He’s pissed because the desk clerk made this big deal about was he sure this was for his wife because her last name wasn’t the same as his.”
