Taft 2012 - Jason Heller [19]
That was Teddy. He always had to look down on you. It had become obvious to Taft, mere weeks after his election in 1908, that Roosevelt already chafed at seeing someone else in his White House. Even as a civilian, he had to blow his horn louder and make a bigger spectacle than the president himself. It was a petulant way to draw attention, but hadn’t that always been Teddy’s way? Taft was steady, deliberate, grounded. Teddy climbed into winged contraptions and laughed as they hurtled through the sky. It was hard for Taft to believe that it wasn’t all part of Teddy’s plan—to undermine Taft’s presidency, to constantly remind the American people that, mere months earlier, they’d had a virile and heroic commander-in-chief. Oh, and trim, too.
Was he still dwelling on the election? Curse it all. A hundred years had slipped by. He’d have to learn to get over it.
Suddenly Taft realized his procession had slowed from a crawl to a halt. What was it now? Blast it. Thinking of Teddy always had a way of stirring up his nerves.
“Mr. President. May I have a word with you? It’s about our correspondence.”
A woman, perhaps in early middle age, stood before him. She wore a cap and glasses tinted so dark he couldn’t see her eyes.
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m quite sure I’ve not made your acquaintance.”
She stepped forward, bumped against the formidable barricade of Kowalczyk’s outstretched arm, and lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose. “President Taft, it’s me. Pauline Craig. From TV.”
And so it was. Even behind the glasses and beneath the ridiculous hat, she was striking. Hard-faced, composed, controlled, with an almost chiseled beauty—in person she reminded Taft uncannily of Nellie.
“Ah, why, yes, Mrs. Craig—”
“Ms. Craig.”
“Yes, Ms. Craig. How caddish of me. Did you receive my reply to your invitation? I had so many missives to answer this week before preparing for the holiday.”
“I did. And that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” She shifted her bag under her arm. “Can you spare a moment?”
“No, he can’t.” It was Kowalczyk. Taft suddenly hated his new friend with a passion. “Get your autograph or move along, please.”
“I just wanted to ask you, Mr. Taft, why you refuse to appear on my show. Your reply didn’t give much of an explanation.”
Taft bristled. “Look here, madam. I used to get in far too much trouble by accepting invitations from every muckraker who happened along. I do sincerely appreciate your invitation, and perhaps in the future—”
“Mr. Taft,” she said, taking off her glasses. Her icy blue eyes lanced him to the quick. “It is the future. And the future needs you. You can’t dodge your destiny, sir.”
“And what destiny would that be?”
“Politics, of course. You’re advising your great-granddaughter, aren’t you? What are you planning? Is there a new dynasty in the making here? Taft 2012, perhaps? The public has a right to know, Mr. Taft!”
At that point, Kowalczyk had had enough. “Okay, lady, you’ve had your chat, and we have a plane to catch.”
The agent’s coterie fell into phalanx formation and pointed Taft on down the walkway. Pauline Craig was swept away in a swarm of bodies and chaos, but not before yelling, “Taft 2012! Is that what this is all about? Mr. Taft! Congresswoman! The nation is waiting for answers!”
Her voice trailed off as the Secret Service herded them in opposite directions. Again, the void in Taft’s gut felt as though it threatened to consume him. Again, his life was quickly spiraling out of his control.
CLASSIFIED
Secret Service Incidence Report
BBO20111124.015
Agent Ira Kowalczyk
At 1059, touched down at Cincinnati. Advance team confirms Grand Girl’s residence and Big Boy’s requested detour to Patterson both secure. No crowds in the airport on this end; possibly it’s just the D.C. populace that’s grown inured to the incognito approach.
cincinnati craigslist > personals > missed connections
Re: DID WM HOWARD TAFT TRIM HIS STACHE? (Airport)
Date: 2011-11-24 11:36 AM EST
Because I