Latham and the president of the United States sat in the Oval Office.
“Well?” Scott said.
“I’d be honored to serve as your secretary of state, Mr. President.”
“Good. I’ll announce it Monday morning. I have a press conference scheduled at ten. This should spice it up. You’ll have a statement ready?”
“If you wish.”
“I wish. Run it by Sandy tomorrow night.”
“All right.”
“Ruth’s onboard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve been friends a long time, Congressman.”
“That we have.”
“We know a lot about each other.”
Latham nodded.
“But we don’t know everything about each other.”
“We can’t know everything about anyone, Mr. President.”
President Scott swiveled in his chair so that he looked out the window.
“Mr. President, I know what you’re getting at. Is there anything in my life, personal or professional, that might be used against me during the confirmation process?”
The president again faced his friend. “Is there?” he asked, his face without expression.
“No.”
“No pretty little girls coming out of the woodwork to claim you dipped their pigtails in the inkwell?”
Latham laughed and snapped his fingers. “I forgot about them, Mr. President,” he said, his voice still carrying the laugh. “Ruth and I planned to go back to California on Monday. I suppose we’d better cancel.”
Scott nodded, stood, stretched, and came around the desk to shake Latham’s hand. “Welcome to the cabinet, Mr. Secretary.”
“A little premature.”
“Piece a cake. Love to Ruth.”
“Mac. Paul Latham.”
“Hello.”
“Where did you have dinner?”
“How did you know we did?”
“Got the machine.”
“There was no message.”
“I didn’t want to leave one. My meeting went well.”
“We ate at Pesce. The rockfish with artichoke and escarole was wonderful.”
“Glad to hear it. It’s all set?”
“Looks like it. Ruth’s coming back from the shore first thing in the morning. I’ll be huddled all day with staff. Writing a statement, that sort of thing.”
“When’s it being announced?”
“Monday morning at a press conference.”
“Well, all I can say is congratulations. Deeply felt.”
“Thank you. What did Annabel have to say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t mention it.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. But now I will. Feel like stopping over? I pour a mean brandy.”
“Another time. We’ve canceled the trip home. I’ll stay in touch. Let me know what you decide.”
“I certainly will. Again, congrats, Paul. It’s much deserved. You’ll make a world-class secretary of state.”