Executive orders - Tom Clancy [325]
She was more nervous than she let on, worse than the first day of medical school, worse than her first surgical procedure, when she'd had to close her eyes and scream inwardly at her hands to keep them from shaking. But at least they'd listened then, and they listened now, too. Okay, she thought, that was the key. This was a surgical procedure, and she was a surgeon, and a surgeon was always in control.
I think that does it, Mrs. Abbot said.
Thank you. Do you like working with Jack?
An insider's smile. He hates makeup. But most men do, she allowed.
I have a secret for you-so do I.
I didn't do much, Mary observed at once. Your skin doesn't need much.
The woman-to-woman observation made Dr. Ryan smile. Thank you.
Can I make a suggestion?
Sure.
Let your hair grow another inch, maybe two. It would complement the shape of your face better.
That's what Elaine says-she's my hairdresser in Baltimore. I tried it once. The surgical caps make it all scrunchy.
We can make bigger caps for you. We try to take care of our First Ladies.
Oh! And why didn't I think of that? Cathy asked herself. It had to be cheaper than taking the helicopter to work Thank you!
This way. Mrs. Abbot led FLOTUS to the Oval Office.
Surprisingly, Cathy had been in the room only twice before, and only once to see Jack there. It suddenly struck her as odd. Her bedroom wasn't fifty yards away from her husband's place of work, after all. The desk struck her as grossly old-fashioned, but the office itself was huge and airy compared to hers at Hopkins, even now with the TV lights and cameras set up. Over the mantel opposite the desk was what the Secret Service called the world's most photographed plant. The furniture was too formal to be comfortable, and the rug with the President's Seal embroidered on it was downright tacky, she thought. But it wasn't a normal office for a normal person.
Hi, honey. Jack kissed her and handled introductions. This is Tom Donner and John Plumber.
Hello. Cathy smiled. I used to listen to you while fixing dinner.
Not anymore? Plumber asked with a smile.
No TV in the dining room upstairs, and they won't let me fix dinner.
Doesn't your husband help? Donner asked.
Jack in the kitchen? Well, he's okay on a grill, but the kitchen is my territory. She sat down, looking at their eyes. It wasn't easy. The TV lights were already on. She made the extra effort. Plumber she liked. Donner was hiding something. The realization made her blink, and her face changed over to her doctor's look. She had the sudden desire to say something to Jack, but there wasn't-
One minute, the producer said. Andrea Price, as always, was in the room, standing by the door to the secretaries' space, and the door behind Cathy was open to the corridor. Jeff Raman was there. He was another odd duck, Cathy thought, but the problem with the White House was that everyone treated you like you were Julius Caesar or something. It was so hard just being friendly with people. It seemed that there was always something in the way. Fundamentally, neither Jack nor Cathy was used to having servants. Employees, yes, but not servants. She was popular with her nurses and technicians at Hopkins because she treated them all like the professionals they were, and she was trying to do the same thing here, but for some reason it didn't work quite the same way, and that was bothersome in a distant way.
Fifteen seconds.
Are we having fun yet? Jack whispered.
Why couldn't you just have stayed at Merrill Lynch? Cathy almost said aloud. He would have been a senior VP by now-but, no. He would never have been