The day was gloomy, humid, and overcast. Weeds, wet with morning dew, brushed his bare feet as he walked toward the orchard where she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. For a moment he felt himself weakening. She looked so damned vulnerable. But the moment passed.

“Mrs. Case.”

“I’m Nell!” Wisps of light brown hair fluttered as she whirled around. “Just Nell.”

“With all due respect, you’re not. And that’s a problem.”

Her hands slammed on her hips. “I’ll tell you where you can put your due respect!”

“I need to know what’s going on.”

“No, you don’t!” And then her arms fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound imperious.”

“You owe me the truth,” he said stonily.

He was right, but she’d lost the habit of confiding in anyone. First Ladies couldn’t afford to tell their secrets. Still, she owed him something.

“I had to get away. I just—I just wanted to be ordinary for a while.”

“Isn’t this a little extreme?”

“I’m sure it seems that way to you, but—”

“Hey, where is everybody?” They both turned as Lucy stuck her head out the door. The T-shirt she’d slept in came to her knees, and her hair must have been wet when she’d fallen asleep because it stuck up in a rooster tail. Just the sight of her lifted Nealy’s spirits. At least there was one person who thought of her only as Nell.

“We’re out here,” she replied unnecessarily.

“Are you arguing?”

“Not exactly.”

Mat seemed as glad of the interruption as she was. “Where’d you get that T-shirt?”

Lucy scowled. “I found it somewhere.”

“Yeah, in a stack of my clothes.”

Nealy had no desire to continue her conversation with Mat, so she made her way back to the motor home. She was living on borrowed time, and she intended to use every second.

Lucy stepped aside to let her in. “So do we have anything to eat for breakfast that doesn’t blow?”

Nealy restrained herself from hugging her. “Next time let’s just ask if there’s anything edible, okay?”

Lucy glowered. “I’m sick of cereal.”

“Make some toast.”

“Toast blows.”

“Lucy, don’t talk to . . . Nell like that,” Mat said from the doorway.

Nealy rounded on him. “This is between Lucy and me.”

“Yeah, Jorik, just butt out.”

“That’s enough, Lucy,” she said. “You have a . . . a . . . time out for being disrespectful.”

“A time out?” Lucy regarded her incredulously.

Nealy knew about time outs from her visits to nursery schools, and she pointed toward the back. “Fifteen minutes. And shut the door. That way you’ll have some privacy so you can think about how to address adults properly.”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“That’s another fifteen minutes for inappropriate language. Do you want to try for longer?”