“Who?”
The First Lady cleared her throat before repeating the name. “Barrie Travis. She’s a reporter for WVUE.”
“Oh, yeah. Sort of a breathy voice?” David Merritt, President of the United States, affixed a cuff link bearing the presidential seal. “I called on her at a recent press conference. Her reports on the White House are usually favorable, aren’t they?”
“Very.”
“So what about her?”
Vanessa, already dressed and seated on a chaise, took a swallow of white wine. “She’s doing a series on SIDS and wants to include an interview with me.”
Merritt slipped on his tuxedo jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror. When he took office, he had decided against having a personal valet. Not even the most experienced haberdasher knew how to take advantage of his physique better than he himself. The cut of his jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He kept his hair well trimmed but never lacquered into place. Secretly, he preferred it rakishly windblown. He wore formal clothes with elegance and grace. In blue jeans, he was the boy next door.
Liking what he saw in the mirror, he turned to his wife. “And?”
“And she’ll be at the reception tonight. Dalton has promised her an answer.”
Dalton Neely was the White House press secretary. He had been handpicked and well trained by Merritt and his top adviser, Spencer Martin.
“Actually, the formal request came through Dalton’s office.” Vanessa shook out a Valium from the prescription bottle in her beaded evening bag. “Barrie Travis has been calling my office for several days. I haven’t taken her calls, but she’s very persistent.”
“Reporters make their living by being persistent.”
“Well, her persistence has put me on the spot. Dalton approached me this afternoon with her request. Both want an answer from me tonight.”
Quickly closing the distance between them, the President grasped her hand and took the small yellow tablet from her palm. He removed the prescription bottle from her evening bag and dropped the pill back into it, then pocketed the bottle.
“I need that, David.”
“No, you don’t. No more of this, either.” He took the wineglass from her and set it aside. “It counteracts your medication.”
“That’s only my second glass.”
“It’s your third. You’re lying to me, Vanessa.”
“Okay, so I lost count. Big deal. I—”
“Not about the wine. About this reporter. She didn’t put you in a spot—you did that yourself. She didn’t start calling your office until your outing with her a couple of weeks ago. Isn’t that the way it happened?”
He’d been informed of their meeting the day it occurred, so he wasn’t surprised by Barrie Travis’s request for an interview. What bothered him was that, without his consent, Vanessa had initiated a conversation with a member of the media. Vanessa and a reporter, especially one reputed to be less than reliable, was a dangerous combination.
“Did you have me spied on?” she fired.
“Why’d you make that date with her, Vanessa?”
“I needed someone to talk to. Is that a crime?”
“You chose a reporter to confide in?” He laughed skeptically.
“She wrote me a touching note. I thought she’d be nice to talk to.”
“Next time try a priest.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, David.”
“If it wasn’t a big deal, then why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“It wasn’t important until she asked for this on-camera interview. Before, our visit wasn’t worth mentioning. She promised that anything I said that afternoon was off the record. I needed someone—a woman—to talk to.”