“Strong evidence? Oh, please, give me a break, Dar. You’re being naïve. This is all about someone’s petty attempt at inconveniencing a competitor. I happen to know about this corn—a good deal about it, for that matter. I know that it has been thoroughly tested, and found to be perfectly safe. For crying out loud, Dar, your friend Russell Evans is the one who signed off on it!”

Darlene felt as if she had been punched in the gut. It was half a minute before she could speak. Why hadn’t Double M told her?

“What is it you know about this corn, Martin,” she managed, forcing a modicum of calm back into her voice, “that makes it so easy for you to discount what I’m saying?”

Martin stood and turned his back to her, hands resting on his hips. For those few prolonged seconds, it felt like he was her president, and not her husband. Eventually, he turned back with new resolve on his face—the look of a man about to compromise. “What I’m about to tell you, Darlene,” Martin said in a stern voice, “cannot ever be repeated. It cannot leave this room. Is that agreed?”

Darlene felt her chest tighten as her pulse began hammering. “I’m your wife, Martin. You can tell me anything you wish in confidence.”

“That corn is going to save my presidency, and I’d feed it to our family for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s that safe.”

Darlene sat silent and breathless.

“The economy is killing us,” Martin continued. “Americans need jobs, and as things stand, I have no way to come up with them. It’s as simple as that. Forget about Democrats or Republicans. When it comes to employment, we’re all independents. If I can’t get Americans back to work, my presidency—and everything I stand for and was elected for—is over. One term and I’m through. If I’m lucky, history will paint me as a failure. More likely, I won’t be painted at all. And I am no failure, Darlene! I’m not about to let the American people down.”

Darlene felt herself beginning to shake. “Martin, what have you done?” she asked.