The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [77]
“No, no, don’t get up. I appreciate the gesture, though.” She leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before bustling out of the room.
“You know, we could have rescheduled this interview so that you could have attended your son’s play,” Simon said.
“I went last night.” Gray grinned. “Today is Jen’s turn. We do try to attend as many of the children’s activities as possible—preferably together—but when our schedules conflict we take turns.”
“That’s admirable, to be so involved with your children’s lives.”
Gray shrugged. “Family has always been a priority for us. We figure the kids will be around long after I’ve left Congress.”
“Or the White House.”
“That, too, if it’s in the cards.” Gray’s laugh was rich and easy.
“Your children are . . .”
“Twelve, nine, and seven.”
“Wouldn’t living in the White House be tough on children so young?”
“Living in the White House is tough on everyone.”
“Any thoughts on having grown up there yourself?” Simon slipped his notebook out of his pocket.
“I didn’t, really. I was already in college by the time my father was elected, so I was away from home by then. I think it may have been tougher on Sarah.”
“In what way?”
“Sarah was the baby, and of course, being the only girl, she was the apple of Dad’s eye. Before the election, she’d been accustomed to pretty much having her own way and a lot more of his time. It was hard for her to accept that she couldn’t call all of the shots anymore.”
“She mentioned that she was permitted to continue on at the boarding school she had been attending,” Simon said, “so it seems that she didn’t have to give up all that much.”
“Oh, in reality, she gave up very little.” Gray grinned again. “Sarah wasn’t one to let much get in her way. When she wanted to come home, she came home. When she wanted to stay at school, she stayed at school. She pretty much had everyone wrapped around her fingers, including the Secret Service.”
“You sound envious.”
“I guess there were times back then when I was. The baby of the family always gets special treatment.”
“Were you able to do any traveling with your parents while your father was President?”
“No, no. So many of their trips were during the school year, I couldn’t take the time off.”
“Ah, now from that should I assume that you were a more dedicated student than your sister?”
Graham tilted his head, as if poised to ask a question. When he did not, Simon said, “Your sister mentioned that she’d taken a year off from school—her senior year, I think she said—so that she could accompany your parents on several trips.”
“Oh.” Graham nodded slowly, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Of course. Her senior year. I’d forgotten about that. No, I never had the opportunity to travel with my parents.”
“What are your favorite memories of those days?”
Gray put his sandwich down on the plate and appeared to be deep in thought. “I guess just being so proud of my dad. He was such a great man. A truly great man.”
“And a great President?”
“Others will have to be the judge of that,” Gray said softly. “I can only speak of what he was like as a father.”
“How was he?”
“Loving. Interested. Always concerned, always caring. Never too busy to listen. Oh, at that precise moment when you wanted to talk he might have had someone else on the line, but he’d always find time. I can’t remember a time when he brushed me off or made me feel that my problems were insignificant.”
“It seems that he and your mother were very close.”
“I think they were. I think they loved each other deeply.”
Simon pretended to write longer than he really needed to, not daring to look up lest Gray sense that touch of doubt that had been nagging all day.
“Of course, we never really know what goes on between two people, do we?” Gray flashed that million-watt smile again, and Simon knew he didn’t mean it. Of course, Gray believed that he did in fact know what was between his father and his mother. They loved each other. Were devoted to each other. Who could doubt it?
Gray nodded toward Simon’s notebook as if in a hurry