A thousand thoughts raced through her head, a jumble of images—her hopes . . . her dreams . . . her lies . . .

Too late, she said, “You’ve . . . you’ve really got this fixation with . . . Cornelia Case, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t move.

She tried to brazen it out. “W-what’s wrong?”

Only his lips moved. “This is . . . this is crazy.”

She began to push her hands into her pockets, but her arms were as stiff and creaky as the Tin Man’s, and they wouldn’t move. “Did you get Button settled?”

“Don’t.” The word was softly spoken, intense.

She tried to conjure up something to say that would make everything right again, but came up empty. She turned away and crossed her arms over her chest as if that would contain her secrets.

“It’s true.” There was no doubt in his voice.

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s been all over the news since last night.”

“What?”

“The fact that Mrs. Case . . . that you disappeared from the White House.”

She hadn’t bought a paper this morning—hadn’t even glanced at them in the grocery. She didn’t want to know. Now she remembered the way he’d been fiddling with the radio while he drove.

The mantle of the First Lady was enveloping Nell Kelly like a magician’s cape. But she didn’t want Nell to disappear. Nell was a new person being born inside her, the person she might have been if she hadn’t allowed herself to become a tool of her father’s ambition. Nell had Cornelia Case’s strengths, but not her insecurities.

“I’m sure you’re aware that everyone in the country is looking for you.”

She heard formality in his voice. That awful formality people used when they addressed the First Lady. He’d never once sounded like that with Nell, and she knew right then that she’d lost him. Before they’d ever had a chance.

The secret fantasy she hadn’t known she was weaving unraveled. The fantasy of Mat and Nell traveling around the country in a battered Winnebago with two kids. Fishing in the Great Lakes, visiting Disney World, seeing sunsets over the Rockies, making love in the Arizona desert. An endless road trip.

“The wind’s picking up,” she said in a creaky old woman’s voice.

“I think you should call someone.”

“Lucy’s showers take forever. I hope there’s enough water in the tank.”

“We need to talk about how best to handle this.”

“I’m glad we used paper plates for dinner. Less to wash up.”

“Nell—Mrs. Case, we have to discuss this.”

She whirled on him. “No! No, we don’t need to at all. I’m going to check on Button.”