“By absentee ballot.”
Edward took Mary’s arm and led her into the library. He turned to her and said, “I’m sorry if I sounded like a pompous ass in there. It was just such a—”
“No. You were perfectly right, Edward. Why on earth should they have chosen me?”
When Mary called him Edward, he knew he was in trouble.
“Honey, you’d probably make a great ambassador, or ambassadress, or whatever they call it these days. But you must admit it came as a bit of a shock.”
Mary softened. “Try thunderbolt.” She sounded like a little girl. “I still can’t believe it.” She laughed. “Wait until I tell Florence. She’ll die.”
Edward was watching her closely. “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Of course I am. Wouldn’t you be?”
Edward chose his words carefully. “It is a great honor, honey, and I’m sure it’s not one they would offer lightly. They must have had good reason for choosing you.” He hesitated. “We have to think about this very carefully. About what it would do to our lives.”
She knew what he was going to say, and she thought: Edward’s right. Of course he’s right.
“I can’t just leave my practice and walk out on my patients. I have to stay here. I don’t know how long you’d have to be away, but if it really means a lot to you, well, maybe we could work out some way where you could go over there with the children and I could join you whenever—”
Mary said softly, “You crazy man. Do you think I could live away from you?”
“Well—it’s an awfully big honor, and—”
“So is being your wife. Nothing means as much to me as you and the children. I would never leave you. This town can’t find another doctor like you, but all the government has to do to find a better ambassador than me is to look in the Yellow Pages.”
He took her in his arms. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. It was exciting being asked. That’s enough for—”
The door flew open and Beth and Tim hurried in. Beth said, “I just called Virgil and told him you’re going to be an ambassador.”
“Then you’d better call him back and tell him I’m not.”
“Why not?” Beth asked.
“Your mother has decided she’s going to stay here.”
“Why?” Beth wailed. “I’ve never been to Romania. I’ve never been anywhere.”
“Me neither,” Tim said. He turned to Beth. “I told you we’re never going to escape from this place.”
“The subject is closed,” Mary informed them.
The following morning Mary dialed the telephone number that the President had given her. When an operator answered, Mary said, “This is Mrs. Edward Ashley. I think the President’s assistant—a Mr. Greene—is expecting my call.”
“One moment, please.”
A male voice on the other end said, “Hello. Mrs. Ashley?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Would you please give the President a message for me?”
“Certainly.”
“Would you please tell him that I’m very, very flattered by his offer, but my husband’s profession ties him down here, so I’m afraid it would be impossible for me to accept. I hope he understands.”
“I’ll pass on your message,” the voice said noncommittally. “Thank you, Mrs. Ashley.” The line went dead.
Mary slowly replaced the receiver. It was done. For one brief moment, a tantalizing dream had been offered her. But that was all it was. A dream. This is my real world. I’d better get ready for my next political science class.
Manama, Bahrain
The whitewashed stone house was anonymous, hidden among dozens of identical houses a short walk from the souks, the large, colorful outdoor markets. It was owned by a merchant sympathetic to the cause of the organization known as the Patriots for Freedom.
“We will need it for only one day,” a voice over the telephone had told him.
It was arranged. Now the chairman was speaking to the men gathered in the living room.
“A problem has arisen,” the chairman said. “The motion that was recently passed has run into difficulty.”
“What sort of difficulty?” Balder asked.
“The go-between we selected—Harry Lantz—is dead.”