Page 112 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 108

Washington, DC

P resident Madeline Wright sits in the rear of a black up-armored Suburban parked on N Street in Georgetown.

Secret Service agents in plain clothes are stationed at both ends of the cross streets.

Another agent stands by the back door of the vehicle.

It’s ten p.m. Two hours ago, Burton Pearce interrupted Maddy’s daily call with Cole to tell her about a serious problem with the Grand Bargain.

He described it in three simple words.

“Trent. He’s wavering.”

Now Maddy’s here to solve the problem.

Congressman Aaron Trent of New Jersey is the minority leader.

Powerful and influential.

If he cracks in his support for Maddy’s landmark legislation, it could start an avalanche.

Even inviting him for a sit-down in the Oval could be risky.

Who knows what he might say to the press gaggle continuously clustered in the West Wing’s James S.

Brady Press Briefing Room?

No. This problem requires immediate, personal, after-hours attention.

At this very moment, Pearce is knocking on the front door of the congressman’s elegant brick home.

The door opens. Maddy is close enough to see the shocked look on Trent’s face.

His eyes get even wider when Pearce points to the Suburban.

Maddy watches as Pearce practically grabs Trent by the elbow, pulls him through the doorway, and walks him down the brick steps to the curb.

The agent by the car steps aside as Pearce opens the rear door.

Maddy looks at Trent from the left rear seat.

“Get in, Congressman.”

Trent hesitates for a second as if he thinks he has a choice.

Then he ducks his head and slides into the right rear seat.

From the street, Pearce closes the heavy door with a thud.

“Madam President, I didn’t expect…” Trent is wearing chinos and a dark blue pullover.

Both are dusted with flour.

“Sorry to interrupt your baking,” says Maddy.

Trent starts to brush off the flour, then stops when he realizes he’s dusting the president’s expensive leather seats.

“I was showing my daughters how to make scones. Can I ask why—”

Maddy holds up her hand.

“Don’t insult me, Aaron. Bad way to start off a meeting. I know you’re backing away from our legislation.”

“Madam President—”

“And if you do, some of the squish members of your party might decide to come with you. What’s going on?” Maddy can sense Trent making mental calculations.

“For God’s sake, Aaron, don’t strategize, just talk.”

Trent turns to face her.

“Madam President, I have concerns about how this legislation was prepared. Too many closed-door meetings. Too many outside advisers. Not enough involvement from my side of the aisle. If this bargain is going to get the full support of the American people, we need to take another look at it, schedule some open hearings, and—”

“Bullshit, Aaron.”

This gets Trent flustered.

Good.

“Ma’am?”

“I said bullshit. Here’s what’s going on. You’ve learned that your good friend Congressman Bragg is planning a leadership challenge. A challenge to you. He thinks you’re too cooperative, too willing to play ball with the other side. So, to show him and his gang of misfits that you have the balls to stand up to the bitch in the Oval Office—that would be me—you want to break your promise and take the whole plan down.”

“Madam President, I don’t want to kill it. I just want to improve it!”

“Spare me,” says Maddy.

“You know perfectly well that if this plan stalls, it dies. And if we start nibbling away at the edges, it loses its power. Most Americans already think you guys on the Hill just run your mouths and get nothing done. Congress now has an approval rating of nineteen percent. Are you seriously shooting for single digits?”

“No, ma’am, it’s just—”

“Listen to me, Aaron. I like you. You’re smart. I don’t like Bragg. He’s a pain-in-the-ass bomb thrower, and he’s been nipping at your heels for the past year.”

Trent says nothing.

“Have you met Bragg’s wife, Celine?” asks Maddy.

“Celine? Of course I have.”

“You know she’s from France, right? Do you know how desperately she wants to go back there?”

“She’s never said anything about that.”

“She wouldn’t. Not in front of her husband. But I know for a fact that she hates DC. She’s threatening to leave Bragg if he runs for reelection.”

“I don’t believe that—”

“You should. Because it’s going to work in your favor—and mine.”

Trent looks puzzled.

“How’s that?”

“In two days, I’m going to announce that I’ve asked Congressman Bragg to accept the position of US ambassador to France. He’ll spare himself a messy separation and he’ll be out of your hair. No longer a threat to your leadership.”

“But the ambassadorship is filled,” says Trent nervously.

“We confirmed Arthur Carew six months ago.”

“Let me worry about Arthur. When we announce the legislation, I expect you to be standing beside me, leading the applause. Now get back to your scones.”

Trent nods.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You want to know a secret?”

“Ma’am?”

Maddy makes a kneading motion in the air.

“Make sure the butter is cold when you mix it into the dough.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I will.”

Trent opens the door, and Pearce is there to help him out.

“Have a nice night, Congressman.”

Pearce doesn’t wait for Trent to reply; he slides into the still-warm seat.

The agent shuts the door after him.

Pearce looks at Maddy.

“So?”

“I need you to find a prestigious, high-paying position for Arthur Carew. Something that doesn’t require congressional approval. Do it fast. Make it juicy.”

“Arthur Carew? Isn’t he in Paris?”

Maddy nods. “For the moment.”