“Well, Kate is supposed to have an informal meeting with the board of Strategic Services tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, I know, I’ll be at the dinner.” Kate had been invited to join the board of directors after Will left office.

“Our other reason for being here is to see you,” Will said.

That puzzled Stone. “Oh?”

A man in a white jacket appeared and announced dinner, so they all went to a table with a spectacular view of the New York City skyline. Stone took a sip of his wine and waited for the president to finish his thought.

“Stone,” Will said, “the day before yesterday I received a bundle of twenty letters, each of them written by a Democratic Party bigwig or a major campaign contributor, all individually composed but with the same subject. Can you guess what that subject was?”

“Well, it seems a little late in the game to get a constitutional amendment passed that would allow you to run for a third term.”

“Thank God for that,” Will said. “What they wanted was what they see as the next best thing.” He sat silently and waited for the penny to drop.

It took Stone a moment. “Kate,” he said finally. “They want Kate to run.”

“Terrible idea, isn’t it?” Kate said. She had been quiet until now.

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” Stone said. “But we’re halfway through the primaries.”

“My very point,” Kate said, “but Will doesn’t think that is an impediment.”

“And I think Stone can figure out why,” Will said.

“Because it looks like none of the candidates is going to have anything like a majority of the delegates going into the first ballot at the convention.”

“Right you are.”

“So, for the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long, we’d have a brokered convention?”

“Since 1952,” Will said, “when Adlai Stevenson got the nomination. We’ve had some close brushes since, but not the real thing. The primary process usually works to nominate a candidate.”

Stone thought about that. “I was just thinking about Gore Vidal’s play The Best Man, which dealt with that subject.”

“Do you remember what each candidate needed to get the nomination?”

“Yes, the support of an earlier president, a Trumanesque figure.”

“Right.”

“Well, I don’t think Kate would have any trouble getting the support of the sitting president, would she?”

“I’m trying to get him to withhold that support,” Kate said.

“Actually, she doesn’t have to try,” Will said. “It would be politically impossible for me to support her.”

“The Republicans would say you’re trying to create a dynasty,” Stone said.

“Not just the Republicans,” Will replied. “A lot of Democrats, too, especially the three or four leading candidates.”

“So, you’d have to sit back, clam up, and wait for the convention to sort it out—after the first ballot.”

“Exactly,” Will said.

“You don’t really think anybody’s going to buy that, do you?” Stone asked.

“Of course not. All the commentators and not a few of the delegates will say I’m pulling all the strings.”

“And how would you handle that?”

“By not pulling any strings.”

“You mean you’d actually sit out the nomination without showing the slightest support for Kate?”

“Not so much as a nod or a wink,” Will replied. “And not a word of advice to her or any of her supporters on obtaining the nomination. If she gets it, then I’ll shoot my mouth off at every opportunity, of course, but after tonight, I won’t say a word to her or anyone else on the subject, except ‘no comment.’”

“You see how crazy this is?” Kate said.

“Kate,” Stone said, “let me ask you a question: do you think you’d make a good president?”

“I think I’d make a sensational president,” Kate said.

Stone turned to Will. “And, Will, do you think she can beat Taft Duncan?”

“In my last word on the subject, yes,” Will said. He looked at his watch. “I’d better hurry,” he said. “I’m sneaking into the Blue Note to hear Chris Botti’s last set.”

“Can I come with you?” Stone asked. “I’m a big Chris Botti fan.”

“No, you have a meeting to attend.”

“What meeting is that?”

“In about an hour the twenty people who wrote me those letters are arriving here for a drink with Kate, so I can’t be here. But you can.”

Will got up and shook Stone’s hand. “Hope to see you soon, Stone, but when I do, I don’t want to hear a word about Kate’s plans.”

“Gotcha, Will.” He and Kate watched him disappear out the door, two Secret Service agents close behind him.

“Well,” Kate said, heaving a sigh. “Now I have only you to help me greet the throng.”

“What are you going to say to them?” Stone asked.

“I think it’s better if you hear it at the same time they do,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get into something more presidential.” She got up and left Stone to contemplate his dessert.

3

Kate came back at five minutes before the hour and handed Stone a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of the invitees. The good news is, every one of them accepted.”

Stone scanned the list quickly. “This is a great tribute to you,” he said. He knew half a dozen of them, at least slightly; Bill Eggers, the managing partner of Stone’s law firm, Woodman & Weld, and Mike Freeman, CEO of the world’s second-largest security firm, Strategic Services, were close friends. Half of them were women, either politicians or businesspeople.

Kate took back the list and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket.

“Your suit looks great, perfect for the occasion,” Stone said.

“I won’t be wearing Chanel suits often after tonight,” she said. “I’ll have to expand my J. Crew wardrobe, though. They’re bringing some things for me to look at tomorrow.”

“Are you nervous about this meeting?”

“I am. It’s the first time I’ve ever asked for anyone’s support, except for Will. Will you introduce me when everyone’s here?”

“Of course. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to say?”

“Just say what Will would say, if he were here. Thank them for their letters, which Will turned over to me, and explain his hands-off position.”

“He’s serious about it, then?”

“Dead serious. He says he won’t even discuss it with me. And explain to them that they shouldn’t try to discuss it with him.”

“You know this is going to be in the papers tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be shocked,” she replied. “Someone will blab, it’s human nature, I suppose.”

The doorbell rang, and Kate led Stone into the living room to await the guests while the butler answered the door.

• • •

Half an hour later, all of the invitees had arrived and were at least halfway through their first drink. Kate nodded at Stone; he stood and tapped his signet ring loudly against his glass, then set down his drink. Silence fell.

“Good evening to all of you,” Stone said. “My name is Stone Barrington. I know some of you and look forward to getting to know you all over the next few months. The president was unable to join us, as he has an extremely important appointment to hear some jazz down in the Village.”

That got a good laugh.

“And, I should tell you, that wasn’t a joke. The president won’t be joining us at any of our meetings or speaking to any of us or anyone else about the subject of this meeting. He recognizes that this is the beginning of an unusual—no, a unique political campaign, and he believes he can best serve the interests of his party and his country by staying the hell out of it. So, please, when you next see him, make no reference to Kate and her campaign. He did want you to know, however, that after the convention has made its choice, he will have a great deal to say about his wife’s campaign to you and to anybody else who will listen. Now, Kate wants to talk to us and tell us how we can help.” He turned and extended a hand toward the first lady.