“How is Mrs. Picone?” Oliver had asked.
There was a small pause. “My wife is fine. Thank you, Mr. President.”
The dinner was going beautifully. Oliver went from table to table, chatting with his guests and charming them all. Some of the most important people in the world were gathered in that room.
Oliver Russell approached three ladies who were socially prominent and married to important men. But they were movers and shakers in their own right. “Leonore…Dolores…Carol…”
As Oliver was making his way across the room, Sylva Picone went up to him and held out her hand. “This is a moment I’ve been looking forward to.” Her eyes were sparkling.
“I, too,” Oliver murmured.
“I knew you were going to be elected.” It was almost a whisper.
“Can we talk later?”
There was no hesitation. “Of course.”
After dinner, there was dancing in the grand ballroom to the music of the Marine Band. Oliver watched Jan dancing, and he thought: What a beautiful woman. What a great body.
The evening was a huge success.
The following week, on the front page of the Washington Tribune, the headline blazed out: PRESIDENT ACCUSED OF CAMPAIGN FRAUD.
Oliver stared at it in disbelief. It was the worst timing possible. How could this have happened? And then he suddenly realized how it had happened. The answer was in front of him on the masthead of the newspaper: “Publisher, Leslie Stewart.”
The following week, a front-page item in the Washington Tribune read: PRESIDENT TO BE QUESTIONE ABOUT FALSIFIED KENTUCKY STATE INCOME TAX RETURNS.
Two weeks later, another story appeared on the front page of the Tribune: FORMER ASSISTANT TO PRESIDENT RUSSELL PLANS TO FILE LAWSUIT CHARGING SEXUAL HARASSMENT.
The door to the Oval Office flew open and Jan walked in. “Have you seen the morning paper?”
“Yes, I—“
“How could you do this to us, Oliver? You—”
“Wait a minute! Don’t you see what’s happening, Jan? Leslie Stewart is behind it. I’m sure she bribed that woman to do this. She’s trying to get her revenge because I jilted her for you. All right. She got it. It’s over.”
Senator Davis was on the telephone. “Oliver. I would like to see you in one hour.”
“I’ll be here, Todd.”
Oliver was in the small library when Todd Davis arrived. Oliver rose to greet him. “Good morning.”
“Like hell it’s a good morning.” Senator Davis’s voice was filled with fury. “That woman is going to destroy us.”
“No, she’s not. She just—”
“Everyone reads that damned gossip rag, and people believe what they read.”
“Todd, this is going to blow over and—”
“It’s not going to blow over. Did you hear the editorial on WTE this morning? It was about who our next president is going to be. You were at the bottom of the list. Leslie Stewart is out to get you. You must stop her. What’s the line—‘hell hath no fury…’?”
“There’s another adage, Todd, about freedom of the press. There’s nothing we can do about this.”
Senator Davis looked at Oliver speculatively. “But there is.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sit down.” The two men sat. “The woman is obviously still in love with you, Oliver. This is her way of punishing you for what you did to her. Never argue with someone who buys ink by the ton. My advice is to make peace.”
“How do I do that?”
Senator Davis looked at Oliver’s groin. “Use your head.”
“Wait a minute, Todd! Are you suggesting that I—?”
“What I’m suggesting is that you cool her down. Let her know that you’re sorry. I’m telling you she still loves you. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be doing this.”
“What exactly do you expect me to do?”
“Charm her, my boy. You did it once, you can do it again. You’ve got to win her over. You’re having a State Department dinner here Friday evening. Invite her. You must persuade her to stop what she’s doing.”
“I don’t know how I can—”
“I don’t care how you do it. Perhaps you could take her away somewhere, where you can have a quiet chat. I have a country house in Virginia. It’s very private. I’m going to Florida for the weekend, and I’ve arranged for Jan to go with me.” He took out a slip of paper and some keys and handed them to Oliver. “Here are the directions and the keys to the house.”