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Authors: Venita Ellick

BOOK: The Reluctant First Lady
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13

Ashley had been back at work for two days, and she’d yet to return all of the calls received in her absence. Her mantra:
I’ll just handle one more phone call, one more piece of mail, one more thing, and then I’ll go home.

She was stalling. She still hadn’t called Michael, which she’d promised herself she would do. They’d always talked to each other at least every other night when they were separated. It made being apart more bearable. This time, however, Michael seemed to be managing just fine without her.

Undoubtedly he’d seen her picture and the comment she’d made to the photographer in the newspaper. She was sure he wasn’t any happier about it than she was. The reporter had caught her off guard outside her apartment, and instead of replying, “No, comment,” she’d flung sarcasm over her shoulder. The reporter used her comment to further tarnish her and worse had dubbed her the “Reluctant First Lady.” Even Ed and Jack hadn’t contacted her to remind her, once again, she was to say “No comment” when reporters approached her. It was a small thing to ask of her, and she’d blown it.

Getting back to work had helped to distract her from all of the animosity that had grown between them. However, there were moments when the magnitude of the situation came crashing down around her. It took her breath away. Yes, she’d stood up for her beliefs, but at what price? Her marriage?

Ashley looked through the phone messages she’d yet to return, which were mostly from the media. Everyone wanted an interview; everyone wanted a piece of her. She debated the merits of giving no interviews or doing just one with a journalist she felt she could trust. Thankfully she didn’t have to decide anything right now.

There was one message that was a no-brainer. It was from her cousin Sienna. Talking to family was just the panacea she needed right now. Sienna picked up the phone on the third ring.

“Hi, it’s your disgraceful cousin. I’m thinking of going into exile in another country. Wanna come?”

“Absolutely. When do we leave, and may I suggest Verona, Italy?” Sienna answered.

“We should have left yesterday. Actually I wanted to bounce a couple of ideas off you. Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, Jim’s having dinner with some potential investors for his latest documentary project, and Samantha’s at a rehearsal for her high school play.”

“How is my niece? Is she still going to make me proud by attending the New School in New York after she graduates?”

“That’s the plan. I swear she seems more like your daughter than mine. Do you know she actually showed up in her biology class wearing a frog costume? She was protesting the dissection of frogs and other creatures. I got called to the school, and it’s lucky they decided not to suspend her. Although she has been assigned to community service around the school. And her attitude about it—well, it was worth it, of course. Now who does that sound like?”

“Could you give me a hint?” Ashley laughed. “I hope after you get over your indignation, you’ll appreciate the spirited and conscientious daughter you have.”

“Hmm . . . actually, it reminded me of when you wore a gorilla costume to a dinner for the district attorneys.”

“Michael deserved that. He ordered me to be there like I was some trained monkey who did things on command. Besides, underneath that excellent costume, I was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress. Everyone enjoyed the joke, including Michael.”

Well, Jim thinks you’ve had entirely too much influence on her.”

“God, I hope so. Who’d have thought he’d turn into such a Neanderthal after you two married? She’s a natural actress; why not promote her talent?”

“I’m sure you didn’t call to discuss Samantha’s future when yours is so shaky. I’ve been listening to replays of your press conference. Some stations are staying a little more neutral than before, but overall the country is still in the middle of a national debate. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes. You’ve always kicked tradition in the face, but you may have gone too far this time. What’s up?” Sienna asked.

“First of all, I’m returning your call. In the huge pile of phone messages on my desk, yours seemed the friendliest. Second I needed to talk to someone who loves me. I’m not very popular right now, particularly with Michael and his crowd, so lucky you. You get to hear my ramblings.”

“Ramble on,” Sienna encouraged.

“Things are about as bad as they can get between Michael and me, short of a divorce. We haven’t talked in a several days, and we’re both too proud to call and break the ice. It seemed pointless for me to stay in Washington any longer. We kept going over the same old ground, so I left. Worse, I left without saying goodbye in person. I’m being hounded by the press for interviews, the secret service is driving me crazy, and I’m about to start wearing disguises.”

Sienna laughed, “What else is new? You never stopped wearing costumes and disguises. Just look at the way you dress.”

“What do you think about me giving one exclusive interview just to get the press off my back? I’m sick of avoiding them, and maybe they’d lighten up a bit if I agreed to an interview. Plus, Mavis and Kathy came to the door of my office today insisting they be released from having to be courteous and diplomatic to everyone who calls. As gracious as they are, I smell mutiny afoot.”

Sienna commented, “It must be bad if your saintly secretaries are fed up. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to get the press off your back. This is your new normal. I’m sorry. I wish I had more encouraging words, but this is just part and parcel of being married to Michael.

“Whether you stay at the White House or not, you’re news. You’ve done something totally unexpected, and the media and the public want to know what makes you tick. I don’t think you’re ever going to be rid of the media. Jackie O was in the news her entire life. As sorry as I am to say this, the media is in your life to stay, no matter what you do.”

“And, to think I called you to cheer me up. Gee, thanks. You’re doing such a great job. I know what you’re saying is true. I hate it, but it is the new normal for me, and I need to try and find a way to accept that. At least, I’m not living in Washington and watching all the political posturing. I swear politicians make actors look like amateurs.

“Change of subject, sort of. Designers are already contacting me with their designs for outfits and ball gowns to wear during the inauguration ceremonies. Want me to send them to you so you can pick out something you’d like?”

“Don’t drag me into this mess. What did you expect, Ashley? Have you given any thought about what you’re going to wear? Or have you decided out of spite to wear a burlap bag with a designer label sewn into it, like Gold Medal Flour or C&H Sugar?”

“I’ve actually decided to wear only the labels since that’s all it seems anyone cares about. Maybe you’d like to design something for me?”

“What did I ever do to you?” Sienna teased.

“Well, there was that time we went fishing when we were about eight. Remember, when you hooked my knee while you were casting your line?”

“Accident, Ash, accident. I was more horrified than you about the hook in your knee.”

“I know, but I can still make you feel guilty after all these years. Listen, thanks for putting up with my complaining. You might not think you did anything, but I already feel better.”

“Ashley, call me anytime you need to talk. I mean it.”

“Hmm . . . I suppose if I get too lonely, I can always engage the secret service agents in a conversation. They’re not exactly the friendly type, and I’m sure they think I’m a pain in the butt, but don’t you worry, I’ll wear them down. I better get going. Thanks again. Say hi to Sam and Jim for me. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

Talking to Sienna had definitely improved her mood. Talking to family always helped to keep things in perspective.

Ashley walked to her office door and looked outside. There they were, the two wonder boys, Matt and Dave, keeping vigil right outside her door. The other agents were undoubtedly not far away.

“I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes. If you’d like to go on ahead without me, please feel free to do so. I can assure you, I know how to get home by myself.”

Agent Campton and Agent Felts let Ashley’s teasing roll right off of them. They were used to difficult assignments. They stood at their post and waited for her to gather her things so they could escort her home.

The first thing Ashley did was check her phone to see if the message light was on. It was. Keeping her fingers crossed, she quickly went through a myriad of calls only to be disappointed. None of them was from Michael. She wished not hearing from him didn’t hurt so much.

At bedtime she missed him most. She and Michael had always had a ravenous appetite for one another. She missed having him next to her. When they were separated, she missed their nightly calls. They’d always joked they were only one phone call away. Before she fell asleep, she vowed she would swallow the very large pill of pride and call him tomorrow.

14

Michael reached for the phone to call Ashley and then stopped. He was used to sharing his days with her, and the temptation to call her was overwhelming. Still, she was the one who had distanced herself from him and to hell with the consequences. Thank you very much, Ashley.

He knew to a certain extent he was being unfair. She’d never lied to him. She’d always been open about her feelings regarding politics. She stood up for her beliefs and hadn’t budged even in the face of great adversity. He didn’t know why he’d been so optimistic about her changing her mind. He’d been a fool, and that didn’t sit well with him.

There really was no point in dwelling on his miscalculation any longer. He was determined to manage the situation without her and turn a disaster into a success to whatever extent was possible. It was time to move on his decision to create the director of protocol position.

He dialed Paula Foulon’s number, and a very sleepy voice answered. “Is this Paula?”

“Yes, who’s this?” an annoyed voice asked.

“It’s Michael Taylor. I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I can call back another time.” He looked at his watch. It was close to midnight on the West Coast. What had he been thinking?

“No, wait. Let me turn on the light. You must have called about something important if you’re calling this late,” Paula said, as she sat up, turned on the light, and finger-combed her hair. “By the way, congratulations on your big win, Mr. President—but then I always believed you’d win.”

“Again, I apologize for calling so late. I was working and wasn’t paying attention to the time. I can call back tomorrow.”

“It’s already tomorrow where you are. Why are you calling?” Paula asked.

“I’ll get right to the point. I’d like to meet with you tomorrow if you’re free to fly out to Washington. There’s a position in my administration I’d like to discuss with you.”

Paula was absolutely thrilled. “Yes, I’ll catch the first plane out tomorrow morning.” She’d move heaven and earth to get to Washington, DC.

“Great. Do you think you can get here for a five o’clock meeting?”

“I’ll be there. Are you still in your old office?” Paula asked.

“Yes. I’ll be here until the inauguration. Go back to sleep; I’ll see you tomorrow, and let me apologize again for calling so late.”

“Wait, can’t you tell me more?” Paula pleaded.

“I’d rather not. I’d like to talk to you in person. Tell Connor he’s welcome to come, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michael hung up before Paula could ask any more questions. He sat for a moment reflecting on what he just possibly set into motion. He wished like hell he hadn’t been forced to make this choice, but he might as well move forward. The sooner he offered the public a solution to Ashley’s absence, the sooner things might begin to calm down.

The next day, true to her word, Paula arrived on time for their five o’clock meeting.

Georgia, Michael’s secretary, ushered her into his office. Michael stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“No problem. I’m anxious to hear what initiated your late-night call and invitation.”

While Georgia was getting coffee for Paula and engaging her in small talk, Michael did a quick mental review of Paula’s qualifications. She was smart and savvy, had a lot of connections through both her family and her husband, had led a privileged and cultured life among the very rich, and was the ultimate hostess in California.

She was tall and slender, had glossy black hair, which she wore in a chin-length bob. He imagined she probably hadn’t been denied much in her life. Her father and her husband, Connor, absolutely adored and doted on her, and among the San Francisco elite, she was its reigning queen. She came from old money, and her entire family had supported and contributed a great deal of money to his campaigns throughout the years.

Once Paula was settled with a cup of coffee, Michael began. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Ashley intends to continue working at the museum and isn’t planning on assuming the First Lady role.”

Paula nodded. “It’s never been a secret to those of us who know the two of you that she’s never been interested in politics. Although I was rather surprised she was so forthcoming with the press.”

Michael didn’t want to discuss the press conference or Ashley. “After Ashley’s announcement, my transition team and I discussed a variety of ways to proceed without a First Lady. I decided to create a new position, the director of protocol, which would encompass previous First Lady responsibilities. That’s where you come in. I’d like you to consider filling the new position. I’m being totally honest when I say we’re not too sure how the public is going to react to this. The controversy Ashley has raised is still raw and festering.”

Paula didn’t have to think about her answer; this was the opportunity of a lifetime. She’d always thought Michael and Ashley weren’t a good match in any way. She would have been a much better partner for Michael. Working closely with Michael would have numerous benefits. Michael had impressed her from their first meeting, which she remembered vividly. She even remembered what he’d been wearing.

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