“You can have mine,” L.K. said. A Midwesterner with a healthy distrust of government, but a firm belief in the goodness of people, she was by far the nicest of us all. “I don’t need a second breakfast anyway.”

“Daisy can have my bagel. I haven’t been to yoga in two weeks. I could barely button my pants this morning.” Miles rose, tapped his trim waistline. “Consequently, I’m going to send L.K. back out for a green juice.”

“Do you mind opening that butter?” L.K. said to Bo. “I’m going to just dip my carb in it, then run out again. Daisy, Bo, juice?”

I shook my head. Nine dollars for a cold-pressed? Better not.

“Also, Daisy,” Miles said. “I know you have a voice mail from Politico asking if I am going to do a walk-back on that tweet yesterday.”

“The answer is, of course, no,” I replied.

“Just what I wanted to hear. Thanks. And did you see the email from the guy at...”

“The guy at the OMB? Taken care of.”

Miles nodded, approving. “Thank God you’re back.” And then, as he passed us on his way down to his office with the double height windows and the desk full of long, exacting memos and directives, he stopped, pivoted. “I heard you sold your family’s house in Georgetown,” he said. “I’m sorry to say it, but I agree it’s a smart move. Let people see you’re being punished.”

“It’s good optics,” added Bo. He’d eaten half his bagel in one bite and was eyeing a second.

“It’s good money,” I said. “And we need it.”

“It’s really no fair to you guys,” said L.K., who had been following Miles out.

“We didn’t know,” I said, “about my father. You—you all believe me, I hope.”

“Look where you are,” Miles said, patting my shoulder. “You’re in the office, talking to me. Isn’t that proof enough?”

Fair point, though I wasn’t convinced. As a gay man of color in politics, he couldn’t afford to make mistakes. And neither could his staff. “I feel like there is a but coming,” I said.

Miles paused, scratched his temple. “I’ve already had two calls this morning.” I’d seen them on his schedule, the pollster and the strategist. I didn’t suspect this would be good for me. “But,” he delivered, as expected, “you’ve got to be careful. We’ve got folks making speeches about how your father fucked up. Anyone who even shared an elevator with your father has issued a press release saying they didn’t know him well. People are calling him a stain on the country. Melinda Darley was on the floor last week calling him a traitor.”