“What is this?”
“Just a few suggestions I have for your cabinet.”
“Oh. Well, I’ve already decided—”
“I thought you might want to look these over.”
“But there’s no point in—”
“Look them over, Oliver.” The senator’s voice had cooled.
Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Todd…”
Senator Davis held up a hand. “Oliver, I don’t want you to think for one minute that I’m trying to impose my will or my wishes on you. You would be wrong. I put together that list because I think they’re the best men who can help you serve your country. I’m a patriot, Oliver, and I’m not ashamed of it. This country means everything to me.” There was a catch in his voice. “Everything. If you think I helped put you in this office just because you’re my son-in-law, you’re gravely mistaken. I fought to make sure you got here because I firmly believe you’re the man best suited for the job. That’s what I care most about.” He tapped a finger on the piece of paper. “And these men can help you do that job.”
Oliver sat there, silent.
“I’ve been in this town for a lot of years, Oliver. And do you know what I’ve learned? That there’s nothing sadder than a one-term president. And do you know why? Because during the first four years, he’s just beginning to get an idea of what he can do to make this country better. He has all those dreams to fulfill. And just when he’s ready to do that—just when he’s ready to really make a difference”—he glanced around the office—“someone else moves in here, and those dreams just vanish. Sad to think about, isn’t it? All those men with grand dreams who serve only one term. Did you know that since McKinley took office in 1897, more than half the presidents who followed him were one-term presidents? But you, Oliver—I’m going to see to it that you’re a two-term president. I want you to be able to fulfill all your dreams. I’m going to see to it that you’re reelected.”
Senator Davis looked at his watch and rose. “I have to go. We have a quorum call at the Senate. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked out the door.
Oliver looked after him for a long time. Then he reached down and picked up the list Senator Todd Davis had left.
In his dream, Miriam Friedland awakened and sat up in bed. A policeman was at her bedside. He looked down at her and said, “Now you can tell us who did this to you.”
“Yes.”
He woke up, soaked in perspiration.
Early the following morning, Oliver telephoned the hospital where Miriam was.
“I’m afraid there’s no change, Mr. President,” the chief of staff told him. “Frankly, it doesn’t look good.”
Oliver said hesitantly, “She has no family. If you don’t think she’s going to make it, would it be more humane to take her off the life-support systems?”
“I think we should wait a little while longer and see what happens,” the doctor said. “Sometimes there’s a miracle.”
Jay Perkins, chief of protocol, was briefing the president. “There are one hundred and forty-seven diplomatic missions in Washington, Mr. President. The blue book—the Diplomatic List—lists the name of every representative of a foreign government and spouse. The green book—the Social List—names the top diplomats, Washington residents, and members of Congress.”
He handed Oliver several sheets of paper. “This is a list of the potential foreign ambassadors you will receive.”
Oliver looked down the list and found the Italian ambassador and his wife: Atilio Picone and Sylva. Sylva. Oliver asked innocently, “Will they bring their wives with them?”
“No. The wives will be introduced later. I would suggest that you begin seeing the candidates as quickly as possible.”
“Fine.”
Perkins said, “I’ll try to arrange it so that by next Saturday, all the foreign ambassadors will be accredited. You might want to consider having a White House dinner to honor them.”
“Good idea.” Oliver glanced again at the list on his desk. Atilio and Sylva Picone.
Saturday evening, the State Dining Room was decorated with flags from the various countries represented by the foreign ambassadors. Oliver had spoken with Atilio Picone two days earlier when he had presented his credence papers.