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some sense into her. Plato had won his share, but the effort had made him impatient and frustrated. She tried to overlook most of it, understanding it was never easy walking a tightrope between your boss and his wife. And this morning, he sounded genuine. Whatever devices Plato used, artifice was rarely one of them. He would look you straight in the eye and say exactly what he thought. In that, he was head and shoulders above Pickett Lanier.
    She cocked her head to one side and gave him a wry look. “Do you think I’m up to this, Plato?”
    “Of course,” he said. “Don’t you?”
    “You bet your ass,” she said without smiling.
    “Good for you.”
    She spotted Roger Tankersley hanging back at the edge of the crowd, brow furrowed. She went straight to him with her hand outstretched. “I hear we’re going to be working together, Roger.”
    He blushed. “Well …”
    She released his hand. “We’ll see how it goes, okay? I’ll be a work in progress for a while.”
    “Anything I can do …”
    “There’ll be plenty. Let me get my legs under me, and then everybody can run to keep up.” She said it lightly, and Roger’s face relaxed. She patted him on the shoulder and moved on.
    Next was Rick Jankowski—intensely mid-twenties, deputy in the Press Office for the past couple of years, now her press secretary. She had been consulted on Jankowski, and approved of him. She liked his youth, his energy. In many ways, he reminded her of Carter.
    “Busy man today,” she said.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Can I ask you to do something for me?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Don’t call me ma’am. Call me Cooper, at least when we’re not in public. You’re my press secretary, Rick. I’m going to depend on you for advice as well as communication. Let’s do it together.”
    “Yes, m—.” He blushed. “I mean, Cooper. That’ll take some getting used to. But thanks.”
    “I’m throwing you a curve ball right out of the gate. Don’t release copies of my speech until after I’ve delivered it.”
    “The media people are on me about it. It’s, ah, precedent.”
    “Then I’m breaking precedent. Tell ’em it’s my decision. Don’t take any guff off anybody. You’re the man, and you work with me.”
    He smiled. “You bet.”
    Finally, Jake Harbin. He leaned nonchalantly in the broad doorway of the dining room, cool gaze sweeping the premises, watching her, watching the others. He straightened as she approached and gave her a hug. He was wearing a tweed jacket and casual slacks, no tie.
    “I see you’re not in the uniform of the day.”
    He laughed easily. Jake did everything with the appearance of ease. He was the wealthiest man in the state—real estate, manufacturing, investments, his fingers in a great number of pies. And now he was finance chairman for Pickett’s campaign. Pickett flew about the country in Jake’s plane, depended on Jake’s contacts—and they were everywhere.
    “I’ll watch it on TV,” Jake said, “while you and the rest of the suits freeze your buns off.”
    “Are you taking care of Pickett?”
    “Aw, I’m not much use,” he drawled. His hand swept the crowd. “These are the experts. I’m just hanging around, toting the suitcases, listening when the candidate needs to vent, trying not to get in the way.” He paused. “We’re all doing what we can to help Pickett.” He crossed his arms and gave her an arch look.
    He means me , she thought. Everybody serving Pickett .
    “Well,” she said, “you keep doing whatever you can to help Pickett, and I’ll do what I can to help the state.”
    He tried a smile, but it didn’t quite register. “Of course, Cooper. Have fun today.”
    “Believe me, Jake, I will.”

THREE
    Eleven o’clock. Pickett and his bunch were still at it downstairs, no doubt would be until late afternoon when they flew off on Jake’s plane. Cooper glanced over her speech, put it away, got it out again, put it away. It’ll be all right , she told