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“Yes.”

“Did they ever hear that?”

“One sister doesn’t talk to her and the other feels that life should be prolonged forever.”

“I think unless all the siblings heard her wishes, it would be difficult to even contemplate changing the will at this point.”

Bernstein realized he had to backtrack a little just so this conversation would not look bad when Harry Cannon wrote his book. “I obviously want my mother to have the best care, but I don’t want her to suffer. I’m in a tough position. If the public thinks large amounts of Medicare are going to the President’s mother, especially when there is no hope of recovery, well, you understand, don’t you?”

“I do, Mr. President. Is she brain-dead?”

“No more than when she was alive.”

Harry laughed. It was a good joke, even if it was a bit surprising. He wasn’t aware of the details of the President’s relationship with his mother, but he had heard stories from White House staff of the few times she came to visit. Apparently there was a lot of arguing. “Seriously, sir. Is she medically brain-dead?”

“No. In a deep coma. No chance of coming out. But there is brain activity.”

“That’s a tough one, Mr. President. If a doctor ended her life out of compassion and one of your sisters sued, he would lose everything. No doctor would do that. She really needed to have something in writing.”

“What if there was something in a personal note somewhere? I know there are a lot of her things we haven’t gone through yet.”

Harry Cannon thought a moment. He didn’t feel completely comfortable in this conversation, but as a lawyer he couldn’t show that. “I guess it would depend on what the note said. If it was specific and detailed enough, it might have merit.”

“Okay, thanks, Harry. We’re looking over her personal stuff now. If I find something, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s fine, sir.”

When Harry left the meeting, the first thing he did was look at his own father’s living will. His mother had died before the cure for cancer, but his father was one of the olds and Harry didn’t want to face this same situation.

That night when they were lying in bed, the President and his wife talked about it. “Did you hear that German guy ask the question everyone is thinking?”

“Yes. I saw it.”

“I’m now the poster boy for the one thing I don’t believe in.”

“I don’t know what choice you really have.”

“How about killing her? After all, I’m the President.”

Betsy laughed, although there was a small part of her that wondered if her husband was serious. “She might just pass naturally.”

“There’s so much equipment in that room, she’ll outlive us.”

“There’s nothing you can do, at least tonight. Maybe nature will surprise you.”

“Yeah, maybe she’ll be the first person in a coma who can still criticize.”

* * *

Every day, AARP circulated to the senior staff any news story that could affect the organization. The question from the German reporter was right at the top, considering its implications. AARP’s job was to service the older population, but they wanted to create the impression that they cared about younger people, too. It was all a ruse, since their loyalty was only to their membership, but they still spent a lot of money on public relations to make them appear compassionate.

For example, they did not play up the bone story as much as they would have liked. First of all, there was no reason to, since it had made headlines on its own. It didn’t need their help. But they also didn’t want to appear to gloat about discoveries that made life easier for them and not others.

When Paul Prescott saw the question from the German reporter, he immediately called the head of PR, June Scully. “What did you think of the question about his mother?”

“I had the same feeling you did.”

“How do you know what my feeling was?”

Paul was smiling. He and June thought alike. She was ten years older than Paul and he was crazy about her—her work ethic, her sensibilities, everything.

“What I’m afraid of,” June said, “is that this is going to come up over and over. You have a President who ran on questioning life extension