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Dexter glances around as if he’s seeing the Jingle Bell Bistro for the first time. “I suppose. When I come down here I usually keep to myself. I’m pretty self-sufficient when I’m here, holed up in my tiny home, and I like to keep it simple: a few books to read, a laptop to write, and as little time spent on my phone as possible. I deplore social media, hate answering emails, and refuse to text anyone the second my feet touch sand on Christmas Key.”
“You don’t hang out with the locals?”
“Here and there. I like the bar that’s tucked away from Main Street. It’s right on the beach, and the owner used to play guitar for some of the biggest rock bands of the seventies. Everyone gathers there and I’ve gotten to know a few people that way.”
“Beer and music—the great equalizers.”
Dexter chuckles. “I suppose so.” He sips his wine and takes a piece of bread from the basket between them. The sun drops a few more inches, sending warm rays over the railing of the porch and bathing their white linen-covered table in golden light. “But I want to talk about the Ruby Hudson who is finding her way after life in the White House. After everything.”
Ruby’s heart beats faster. Of course he wants to talk about the big stuff: being married to the president, Jack’s death, the affair, her life as a widow. She swallows hard and takes a piece of bread that she isn’t sure she can even eat. Ruby casts a glance at Dexter’s face and he’s watching her intently.
“Before we talk at length, I want some things on the table up front,” Ruby says, feeling her resolve strengthen. “I want to know what the exact angle is on this book. I want to have final say on which of my words and stories are included. I’m not going to sit here for two days and talk to you if, in the end, what you want is just to compile salacious tidbits about my late husband or our marriage. I don’t want any part of that.”
Dexter lowers his hazel eyes and nods for a long moment as if he’s processing her words. When he looks back at her, it’s with a piercing gaze. “My book is going to be about President Hudson…through your eyes.”
Ruby is completely taken aback. “Throughmyeyes? But I’m not going to be interesting to your readers. You wrote about Monica Lewinsky and she herself is a point of interest—I’m nothing like that. I assumed that this book would be about, you know, about…my husband’s…”
“Side piece, I think is what the kids are calling it these days.” Dexter doesn’t back down, but keeps his eyes locked on hers. “Sorry for being so crass.”
Ruby gives a surprised laugh. “Wow. Right to it. Okay.” Instead of sipping her Prosecco delicately, she takes a hard swig and sets the glass down. “So that topic will be covered?”
Dexter lifts a shoulder and lets it fall dispassionately. “Of course. I want to find out what makes Ruby Hudson tick. And through you, we’ll get a totally different view of the White House, of the presidency, and of what life is like as the wife of the most powerful man in the free world.”
“And as the widow of the most powerful man in the free world,” Ruby adds softly, turning her wine glass around by its stem as she watches the bubbles dance.
“Of course,” Dexter says. “I don’t mean to be inconsiderate, Ruby. I started my career as an investigative reporter, and I pride myself on my ability to dive into a subject so deeply that I sometimes forget where I am. I become completely engrossed in, say, what you wore to the senior prom. Your thoughts as you were giving birth to your first child. The last fight you had with your husband and whether you resolved it before his death. I want the minutia, but also the intimate details. It helps me to paint a much stronger picture for my readers if I know what wattage the lightbulb is in the lamp on your nightstand as you fall asleep to my words at night.”
This little attempt at humor brings Ruby back to the present and she looks right at him again. “I hear you. I’m still not sure that I’m the angle you want.”
“I’msure you’re the angle I want.”
Ruby frowns; she’s confused. “What about me screams ‘best selling book’?”
Picking up on the serious mood at the table, the restaurant owner sets down their plates of shrimp and grits and disappears without a word. Ruby picks up her fork.
“I want to take a good, hard look at womanhood. I want to find out what sacrifices you made to be the wife of a man who rose to the highest office in the land. I want to understand what made you a prime candidate to be the right-hand woman of a man with his eye on the White House.”
“Wait,” Ruby says, her fork halfway to her mouth. “You think hepickedme to be his wife because I satisfied some sort of checklist?”
Dexter busies himself with pushing shrimp and vegetables around his plate. “Doesn’t everyone pick a mate—on some deep level—based on a checklist of some sort?”
Ruby takes her first bite of food and chews thoughtfully, thinking about his question. “Okay,” she says after swallowing. “I guess so. In some ways.”
“What qualities did Jack satisfy for you?”
“Older, wiser, more settled, ready for a family, had goals, swept me off my feet,” Ruby says, ticking each item off quickly. “Yeah,” she says, shrugging. “I never really looked at it that way, but I guess you’re right.”
Dexter nods at her like he’s glad that she can see his point. “It generally works that way. Every human has needs, either intrinsic or extrinsic—maybe both—and they choose a partner who satisfies as many of those needs as possible. So which did you cover for Jack?”
Ruby eats a bite of shrimp while she considers this. She washes it down with another sip of Prosecco. “Well,” she says, setting her glass down. “I was a commercial actress with an English degree from UCLA, so I was reasonably attractive and had an education. I was young and single—no divorces or kids or baggage in that sense—so relatively uncomplicated. And being younger than him also meant that I was likely a good candidate to have his children, which I guess any good politician is probably interested in—either for personal reasons or for optics, but maybe both.”
She pauses and lets her eyes fall to the table for a moment. Dismantling herself this way and looking at all of the separate pieces that made her marriageable in Jack’s eyes is strange, but she’s able to do it without any of the feelings of self-pity that usually accompany her thoughts about what made herundesirableenough to him that he wound up in the arms of another woman. Looking at her younger self this way is analytic and it feels honest; looking at herself as their marriage ended is painful and it still feels too close to see it all clearly. Maybe she’s not ready for that, but she can handle delving into their early years and assessing the majority of their marriage with ease.
Dexter leans back in his chair and watches Ruby. It’s clear that he’d like to ask her more follow-up questions, but they’ve moved rather quickly into a discussion about some very personal things, and she tries to shoot him a look to let him know that he needs to scale back so that he doesn’t lose her.
“Tell me about your bookstore,” he says, picking up on the message and changing gears as he forks a few bites of shrimp and grits into his mouth. “What’s it called, and what made you go that direction?”
Ruby is ready for a change of subject, so this is an easy transition for her. “It’s called ‘Marooned With a Book,’ and it’s really a culmination of a life-long dream. When I was in college I desperately wanted to be a writer and to own a bookstore in the South of France—“
