“God, Lizzie, how cold you sound. That’s the real reason you agreed to sign on, isn’t it? You’re here to protect your friends, and if it means taking me down, you’ll help them do it, right?”

Lizzie just smiled.

“Goddamnit, Lizzie, say something.”

“Where I come from, Marti, and where you’ve been, a person is only as good as her word. I really should be going. I’ve taken up enough of your time today.”

Martine Connor turned to stop her furious pacing. Lizzie thought she looked great in a honey-colored suit, with a copper-colored blouse underneath her suit jacket, which was open. Her haircut was stylish, and the feathery bangs falling over her forehead were new, too, since the last time Lizzie had seen Martine. She looked presidential.

“But we haven’t had dessert, and I was going to give you the tour. Lizzie, I’m sorry. I’ll find a way. I promise you. Please, I need you to believe me.”

“It’s not me you have to convince, Marti. I’ll pass on your message. Six months. Not one day, not one hour, not one second longer. I’ll report in on January second. I hope you have a wonderful holiday. Are you staying here or going somewhere?”

“Camp David. I plan to sleep through the holidays. Do you want to hear something really sad? I don’t have a single soul I can invite to spend the holidays with me. Well, that’s not quite true. I had several people I was going to invite, but the Service said when they vetted them, they were unsuitable. Unsuitable! That’s what they said. I’m whining, and I didn’t want to do that. I apologize.”

Lizzie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the president. She squeezed hard. “Six months, Marti,” she whispered. “Now, how do I get out of here? Is that guy with the ‘football’ still outside the door? Oh, one last thing. Watch out for Baron Bell.”

Martine grimaced. “You mean the marine with the nuclear codes? Yes, he’s out there. You just walk past him. It’s that simple. One of my agents will take you home.”

Lizzie stared at the president. She could feel her eyes start to burn at what she was seeing on her old friend’s face. She lowered her voice to a bare whisper and said, “I wouldn’t want to be you for all the gold in Fort Knox.”

The moment the door opened, Martine Connor shed her personal persona and, in the blink of an eye, was once again the president of the United States. “Thank you for that observation, and thank you for coming, Lizzie. I enjoyed our luncheon. I hope we can do it again soon. Happy holidays to you and yours.”