Part 10 (1/2)

”You're one of the people. They like that. You and President Hamilton. You both are.” She nods respectfully, then adds, ”So many of us, especially women, dream of fitting in your gla.s.s slipper. Having the attention of the young, attractive president.”

”Matthew doesn't-” I cut myself off, then say, ”So the rumors have started already.”

”Everyone's hoping, ever since he named you acting first lady.” She laughs, then says, ”We respect him. And you. The White House is not only a place of business; we've taken care of whole families for a long time.”

Families. The thought sort of p.r.i.c.ks me in the heart and makes me wonder what a family with my country's president, the man I love, would be like. ”Thank you for telling me this.”

She smiles. She's been my shadow, along with other members of the Secret Service, and I'm always humbled and almost uncomfortable by the dedication they show. I've learned they speak in codes, and especially use codes for Matt and me. Stacey's also unmarried at forty-four, eats a high-protein diet, and has eyes for Johnson, another member of my Secret Service team.

The rest of the week I spend making plans with Clarissa. I adore visiting places and having a chance to speak and interact with everyone, but I also notice people look at my detail and me with a bit of reverence. Whenever I mention the president, their eyes go wide and it feels like I just mentioned G.o.d.

I want them to know that the president is not only their driven and intelligent leader, but a human being as well-as am I.

If there's one thing I know, it's that the job of the first lady is determined by the first lady herself. I've been thinking of my predecessors, what they're remembered for, and wondering what I will stand for as a first lady.

Jackie Kennedy turned the White House into a showcase of the evolution of America's style and taste. She was a fas.h.i.+on icon, poised and elegant, who was the first to bring a curator into the White House.

Eleanor Roosevelt was a rogue in her time. She spoke about civil rights and women's rights, and to this day she's probably the most powerful first lady to have ever served. At the time, there weren't any female reporters-they were barred from White House press conferences. But Eleanor held her own press conferences, aimed toward female reporters, in turn forcing the media to hire them.

Other first ladies have sat in cabinet meetings. Many of them have been hostesses, planning the state dinners-but most have done so much more. Pus.h.i.+ng for schools without drugs. Improvements in healthcare and nutrition.

So I sit down with Clarissa and tell her I want to define the role the way I feel capable of doing-that I want to represent the president with the same vitality he exudes, keep myself busy and active, having a White House presence in as many states as possible, and not only scheduling talks and visits to schools, hospitals, and workplaces, but inviting citizens over to the White House as well.

I've found the time I've been here so exciting-so inspiring. I wish more people had the opportunity to be so close to all this history and the pulsing heart of America.

”I discussed with the president the fact that I want to make this house open to the public. I want to stay in contact with the people. I also plan to ask him permission to personally address some of the letters that arrive at the White House.”

Clarissa is nodding rapidly, taking notes. ”Also,” she says, ”they want to know more about you. Your job is unofficial; the press wonders how much influence you have, if you've got the president's ear. They want to know more about their first lady. Lola is setting up some interviews here in the East Wing.”

Nerves. .h.i.t me-but this is an opportunity to shed light on things I care about, not to focus on me. So I agree.

”Excellent!” Clarissa says.

14.

FBI.

Matt The director of the FBI hands the files over.

”Here you go, Mr. President. I was a fan of your father. I, like the rest of the country, suffered a great loss when he was taken from us too soon. I knew you'd want to have this.”

”Everything is here?”

”Every single thing, sir.”

”I'll read up on it tonight. Expect to hear from me soon.”

”Yes, sir, President Hamilton.”

15.

WORK.

Charlotte The rest of the week goes by in a frenzy of visits, interviews, and planning the upcoming state dinner. Matt is even more swamped with work than I am, but I can see him make some effort to carve out some time to see me, and it not only touches me, it makes me truly wish for him to know that I support him and what he's doing for our country. That just being close to him and knowing that he wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him is enough.

The bills he's trying to pa.s.s are not easy ones-they will mark permanent changes in our education, healthcare, and energy programs. He's got solid backing from the House, but the Senate will be voting soon-and you really never know how it's going to go.

After dinner one day, we took Jack for a walk along the White House gardens.

It was freezing outside, but I was wrapped in a coat and wore a cap, loving to watch Matt's breath mist in the air as we talked about our day. And how he wouldn't stop poking my reddened nose playfully, wearing the most gorgeous smile.

On our way back into the White House, it was eerily quiet. ”I'll never stop feeling awed as I walk around this house,” I said.

”It's a privilege not to be taken lightly.”

”You know how they say if these walls could speak? These walls actually do. Every piece of art on the walls. Every relic.”

We continued in silence.

The usual bustle of the day had calmed down, but it was still in the very air. The electric unfolding of history within these walls. There were births and deaths, celebrations and mourning.

We pa.s.sed the portrait of JFK, glancing downward, humble and charismatic, and the portrait of Matt's dad, in a long red-carpeted hall.

Matt eyed the hall, his gaze warm as he took in my excitement. ”Building took seventeen years to complete. Was.h.i.+ngton conceived the idea of it, but he never had a chance to move in.”

I watched him as we walked, wanting more.

”It nearly burned in the War of 1812, when the British invaded the capital. Middle of the night, enemy troops threw javelins on fire through the windows, set the attic on fire, and the flames started burning through the floor, then the main floor crashed into the bas.e.m.e.nt. Look at it now.” He winked. ”Yeah, that's America. You fall, you rise back up stronger than ever.” He chucked my chin.

And I laughed, and blushed all over, and nodded.

”The portrait of Was.h.i.+ngton in the Oval? The soldiers looted the house, but the first lady at the time, Dolly Madison, cracked the frame and saved it.”

”If the house is set on fire, I'm taking your portrait.”

”I want one made of you.”

”Matthew!”

”I mean it,” he said, then he took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom, Jack padding at our feet and dropping to fall asleep by the time we were naked beneath the covers. Matt was drawing me with his fingertips, slowly telling me what part of me he wanted to immortalize in paint.