Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

at something that the President said. The President also smiled and rested his hand on the First Lady’s knee. He then spotted Landon and shifted in his chair to greet the Under.

“My friend! How are you?” The President said quickly. “I haven’t seen you for weeks. I hope you haven’t been holed up at the Pentagon this whole time.”

“I’m afraid so,” responded Landon with a grin. “I’ll be stopping by soon I’m sure. Mr. President, Mrs. Gilman, it is a pleasure to see you both. What a wonderful occasion—celebrating the best of the best!”

“Absolutely,” responded the President. “Wonderful people on the CEA. And you—I’ve met you before. Do you work for McCraiben?” He said, holding out his hand in greeting to Haley. She shook his hand firmly, impressed that he had remembered such a detail.

“Yes, Mr. President, I’m Haley Monteforte, his legislative director. I’ve been told to pass on a greeting from him to you. He regrets that he couldn’t make it tonight but congratulates you on the Council and on this celebration of their wonderful accomplishments.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much I had to do with the Council’s success,” remarked the President laughingly, “but I’ll take the credit. Tell old Joe he needs to come see me; I have a special bottle of his favorite Louisville bourbon for him.”

“Yes sir, I will let him know!”

“Good, good then,” responded the President.

“Mrs. Gilman, always a pleasure to see you,” followed Landon, including the First Lady in the conversation. “I saw the event you held for local artists to enter their pieces in the Christmas decor for next year. You know, I almost applied.”

“Really, did you?” Adela Gilman smiled brightly, her face turned toward Landon. “Are you artistic, then?” Her blue eyes were light and sparkling. One could become lost in their light.

“Anyone is an artist these days, Mrs. Gilman. I am very good at making sketches that could at least outshine a third grader. Sometimes I even add some color.”

Haley laughed, as did the President and his wife.

“Sure, sure, send it on in,” said Mrs. Gilman. “Everyone deserves a fair shot at being exhibited.” The corners of her ruby lips turned upward and there was a distinct twinkle in her eye. She was mesmerizingly beautiful, a true muse; any real artist would have died at the chance to paint her.

“I will, I will,” joked Landon. “Well, nice to see you both. I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your evening, sir, madam.” He nodded his head politely, and the President shook his hand again. Offering his arm to Haley, he guided her through the tables away from the President’s seat.

“You know them pretty well,” Haley remarked.

“As well as one can. But,” he paused, “even if one is close to a president, you can never be truly close. The presidency is an office and in order for that office to retain dignity and authority, there must be a certain level of distinction between it and the people. I am close to Mr. Gilman, but to the office in which he serves, well that is another matter. He is required to embody this office, and so naturally there is separation. As there should be. We can’t imagine the pressure, and for him to deal with the pressure he must have a certain degree of respect and authority. It is the office that he must be; the office is all that matters for this period of time. He puts away who he is as a person—who knows, he may be an avid gardener or basketball player or chef or bird watcher—he puts all of it away and assumes the office. It’s like the Queen or King of England. Of course they’re a person, but before that, they are an office, an institution.”

Haley pursed her lips. “I would hate that.”

“You get to be leader of the free world, but is it really worth it.” He raised his eyebrows, shrugged and moved forward in the direction of their seats.

They reached their table and had just seated themselves when the jazz band quieted down and a man in a tuxedo with a bald head climbed to the stage and took the standing microphone.  The noises of the crowd dwindled to a hush as the man prepared to speak. He cleared his throat and looked over the mass of people.

“Welcome, all, to this evening held in honor of the Council of Economic Advisors. These are men and women have truly dedicated themselves to the service of this country and we are truly proud of them. We welcome their friends and families here tonight. We also have here with us tonight the President and the First Lady, who have been so kind as to join us in appreciating the work of our Council. Now, Mr. President and Mrs. Gilman, would you please do us the honor of coming to the stage to congratulate our esteemed Council and recognize those among us who have indubitably proven their loyalty and commitment to serving this country through the highest caliber of economic research and development?”

The president and the first lady rose from their seats, smiling and nodding as the room broke into applause. She slipped her satin gloved hand into his as he stepped away from the round table, and followed him toward the platform. He strode forward, immaculate in his suit and tie, stopping briefly to pat a friend on the back and to acknowledge another with a quick wave, and she came behind him, stopping when he stopped, her deep blue Prada dress striking envy into the souls of all women and admiration into the hearts of all men as it shimmered and rustled in the soft light. The diamond choker around her neck reflected elegantly and her brown curls cascaded from the arrangement on her head down to the nape of her neck.  He was the pure essence of