He sat at his desk and realized this was the last time he would be in this office. Was there anything he wanted to keep? Next to him was the box containing the framed photographs he had not yet placed on the walls. A picture of him and Hanover riding in Jackson, Wyoming. A shot of him, O’Connor, and McGreer hugging in celebration on election night. Playing chess with Margaret on Air Force One. Standing two rows behind the Hanovers at the inaugural swearing-in at the Capitol. Being burned in effigy in front of the White House by members of a political cult who had accused him of masterminding a convoluted conspiracy, the details of which Addis had never understood.

Mumfries and his family were boarding the helicopter. The President waved to the crowd. Sally Mumfries threw kisses.

“You can decide.” And he had. But had he played it right? For the best results? The fairest for all concerned? And for the country, too?

Close enough for government work, he said to himself.

He returned the photographs to the box. No, he thought, he didn’t need any of these. But he picked up the framed postcard from LaTeenah Williams, one of the few students he had managed to reach and affect so long ago. She went on to college, social work school, and then hard work on hard turf in the Bronx. He hoped she was still out there setting off ripples in the right direction. “Thank you,” it read.

This I’ll keep.

He waited for the door to open.

52 - Bethesda, Maryland November 3

52

Bethesda, Maryland November 3

In the night darkness, Addis walked carefully along the stone steps that led to the front of the tree-surrounded colonial. He rang the bell, and Alma Dunne came to the door.

“Oh, I forgot to turn on the outside lights,” she apologized. “I keep forgetting.”

“That’s okay.”

She took his hand and pulled him into the house. “What have you been doing with yourself?” she asked, a touch of hesitation in her voice.

“Reading Dante,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said, not knowing how she should respond.

Why be a shit?

“Actually, I was out of town. At a wedding.”

“That must have been nice.”

No, it was painful. But not as bad as I thought it would be. Holly looked great. But she’s gone and that’s okay. You don’t get over things. You learn to live with them.

“Yes, it was lovely.”

Especially when a law professor said he had written a law review article on the trial of Donny Lee Mondreau and asked if he could send it to me. I said, no. Not right now.

“Clarence has been looking forward to seeing you. He’s in the den.” She guided Addis to the room.

Dunne sat in a pale-green easy chair. Addis noticed a folded-up wheelchair in the corner. The television was on.