Journey

“Fun. I did a lot of shopping, and I went to the Whitney. How was yours?” It was a thrill for him to play spin doctor to the President, and she knew it.

“Terrific. I think we've got a handle on things.” He looked pleased and as though he felt very important, which he was. No one who knew him was ever unaware of it, and certainly not Maddy

“Anything you can tell me about, or is it all top secret?”

“Pretty much.” She would know it from what they gave her to report on the news. What she would never know, nor would anyone else, was the reality, or the original, undoctored version. “What are we doing for dinner?” he asked as he turned off the set.

“I can whip something up if you want,” she said, setting down her packages. She still looked impeccable and beautiful after her long day of shopping. “Or I can order something in.”

“Why don't we go out? I've been locked up all day with a bunch of guys. It might be nice to see some real people.” He picked up the phone and made reservations for them at nine o'clock at Citronelle, which was the most fashionable restaurant in Washington at the moment. “Go put on something pretty.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, and disappeared upstairs to their bedroom with all the things she'd bought in New York, and she returned an hour later, bathed, combed, perfumed, in a simple black cocktail dress and high-heeled sandals, with her diamond studs and a pearl necklace. Jack bought her pretty things from time to time, and she looked wonderful in them. The diamond studs and her eight-carat engagement ring were her prize possessions. Not bad for a kid from a trailer park in Chattanooga, she often admitted to him, and he called her “poor white trash” when he wanted to really tease her. She didn't love it, but it was true. She couldn't deny it to him, although she had come so far and grown so far beyond it. It was obvious that he thought calling her that was funny, although hearing the words always made her wince at the image he conjured.

“You clean up pretty good,” he said by way of a compliment and she smiled at him. She loved going out with him, being his, and letting the whole world see it. The thrill of being married to him had never dimmed for her, even now that she was a star in her own right. More people knew her than him now, or it was fairly even. He was the tycoon behind the scenes, the man the President consulted for media advice, but she was the woman other women and girls wanted to be, and the face that many men dreamed of. She was the presence in their living room, the voice they trusted, the woman who told them the truth about tough things, as best she could, as she had about Janet McCutchins and countless other women like her. Maddy had a lot of integrity, and it showed. And it came in a hell of an attractive package. As Greg said about her constantly, she was “gorgeous.” She looked it now, as they left for the restaurant for dinner.

Jack drove her himself, which was rare for him, and they chatted about New York on the way. It was obvious that he could say nothing about his meetings. And once at Citronelle, they were taken by the headwaiter to a highly visible table. Heads turned, and people commented on who they were and how beautiful she was. The women looked at Jack too, he was a handsome man, with a sexy smile, eyes that took everything in, and a great deal of presence about him. Everything about them exuded success and power, and in Washington that was important. Dozens of people stopped at their table to chat with them, mostly politicians, and one of the President's advisers. And every few minutes someone would come hesitantly up to them and ask Maddy for her autograph, and she would scribble it for them with a warm smile, and chat with them for a few minutes.

“Don't you get sick of that, Mad?” Jack asked as he poured her another glass of wine. The waiter had left it chilling in a bucket next to their table. It was Château Cheval Blanc 1959, Jack was an expert on fine wines, and this was a great one.

“Not really. I think it's sweet that they know who I am, and they care enough to ask.” She was always gracious about it, and people came away from meeting her feeling as though they'd made a new friend, and liking her even better in person than on TV. Approaching Jack was a little more daunting, he was a lot less friendly.

It was nearly midnight when they left the restaurant, and on Sunday, they flew down to Virginia for the day. Jack hated missing a minute he could spend there. He rode for a while, and they had lunch outside. It was a hot day, and he commented that it was going to be a great summer.