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difference?”
    “Every minute I spend in this city is like hanging by my thumbnails.”
    “Please, Peter, your timing couldn’t possibly be worse. I would deeply appreciate it if you would reconsider. You can leave tomorrow or even later today.”
    He appeared to be considering her request. He put his hands on top of her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. This tripis important to me. But I can postpone it for a day. Just do me one favor. I don’t need any Secret Service agents protecting me from the boogeyman. The last thing I want is a couple of dark suits camping out in my back pocket while I’m in Topeka.”
    “I’ll talk to Cranston.”
    ***
    On her way to the funeral, Katherine Miles was surrounded by a caravan of Secret Service vehicles. McDermott was on one side of her, his knee bouncing up and down, and Peter sat on the other side. Walter Owens sat across from her folding and unfolding his hands. Kate felt a strange detachment from the rest of the world, as if her life were a dream, one in which she was a spectator among participants. McDermott was talking about policies and protocol, outlining her agenda for the next few days, and Peter sat quietly, looking like he’d rather be anyplace else on Earth. Kate passively listened. In the forefront of her mind was the crisp memory of how this roller coaster ride to the White House had all begun.
    ***
    “Kate Miles calling for David Rodgers.”
    “Mr. Rodgers is in a meeting.” The secretary’s voice was unfamiliar, saccharin sweet.
    A meeting? Why do they always use the meeting excuse?
    “This is quite urgent. Would you please interrupt him?”
    “As I said, he’s in—”
    “Young lady, this is Governor Miles. Please tell David I’m on the line.”
    “I’m terribly sorry, Governor. I’ll see what I can do.”
    Kate tucked the receiver between her ear and shoulder. Her fingers danced on the Toshiba laptop. Tonight, Kate would stand before the local chapter of the National Organization of Women and deliver a lecture on women in government. Kate frequentlyencouraged other women to enter politics. She wasn’t always certain that her motives were as honorable as she wished them to be. She often believed that her support and positive approach repressed a hidden “misery loves company” agenda.
    David Rodgers’s voice broke her concentration. “Thought I’d be hearing from you soon. Hope you haven’t been holding too long.” His tone was bright and spirited.
    “Great interview with Piers Morgan,” she said. “It’s not every day that a successful billionaire announces that he’s running for president on the Independent ticket.”
    “Well, if the assholes in Congress knew how to run the country, I’d just sit in my cushy office and run Global Transportation. But I guess I’m more patriotic than I thought.” He paused.
    “Are you furious with me?”
    “Beyond elucidation. A federal marshal should be knocking on your door any minute.”
    He huffed into the receiver. “I promised to give you another week, I know. But Piers pressed me. It was a golden opportunity, Kate. You
have
decided to accept...haven’t you?”
    “It’s a conspiracy, right? Daddy and you put your conniving little heads together and figured you’d double-team me.”
    “Can I take the fifth on that?”
    “I’m driving to the ranch for the weekend, David. You and I need to have a heart-to-heart.”
    Silence.
    “David?”
    “How about noon Saturday?”
    “That’s fine.”
    “Anything I should do to prepare?” Rodgers asked.
    “Eat a big bowl of Wheaties. And bring your boxing gloves.”
    ***
    With the top down, the sun warming her face, the spring air blowing through her hair, Kate approached the White Stallion Ranch in her red Mustang convertible. The narrow road, lined with blossoming sugar maples and elm trees, colorfully announced spring’s arrival. She passed harvested corn fields and acres of golden winter wheat. John Deere tractors worked