“Cobra here,” he said.

“All clear for Buttercup and Wildcat, Cobra,” a woman’s voice replied.

“Buttercup and Wildcat,” Ochoa echoed.

By tradition, the three members of the First Family each carried a radio code name beginning with the same letter. The president, Bronco, had chosen B for them. Darlene had adopted the name of her heroine from the novel and movie The Princess Bride, and Lisa, now twenty-one and a totally independent sophomore at Yale, chose Bullfighter. Kim, to no one’s surprise, had gone with the Kansas State mascot.

“Safe in there for a drink, Victor?” Darlene asked.

“So long as you keep away from the Fireball Gimlets, you’ll be fine.”

The agent escorted them. The space was dimly lit and modestly filled. A jukebox in one corner of the bar played alternative rock songs at a volume that permitted conversation without shouting.

Darlene smiled up at Ochoa and patted him on the arm. “I’m guessing you’d like us to sit over there,” she said, pointing to an empty booth that was closest to the emergency exit.

“I knew you’d eventually get the hang of this, Madam First Lady,” Ochoa said.

“Victor, it’s Darlene. Please. I’d rather you call me Princess Buttercup than Madam First Lady, and you’re wrong. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get the hang of this role.”

Ochoa laughed warmly. “Our guide to protocol is thicker than the D.C. phone book. No excessive familiarity, including no first names, even though you’re about the most down-to-earth, approachable First Lady I’ve worked with. Tell you what—I’ll be saying ma’am and thinking Darlene. How’s that?”

“That’ll be fine. What does your protocol guide say about my going grocery shopping without an advance team clearing the cereal aisle first?”

“It says that isn’t going to happen … ma’am.”

Darlene followed Ochoa, Kim, and another agent beyond the bar, smiling and shaking hands with surprised patrons as she passed by. Then she asked Ochoa for two vodka tonics and settled into the booth, sitting directly across from her friend.

“I’ll be the second to admit the constant attention gets tiresome,” Kim said. “But at least after shopping, we won’t have to lug any of our purchases back home.”

“That is a plus. Alas, it was one thing when Martin had an approval rating of sixty percent. Now we’re in free fall. The depression or recession, or whatever it is, has seen to it that even shopping is unpleasant for me. Imagine what it must be like for those poor folks who suddenly don’t have a job.”

Moments later, Ochoa materialized from within the crowd, carrying two tall vodka tonics, each garnished with a crescent of lemon. The women clinked glasses more out of habit than over anything to celebrate.

“I wonder if Victor had to sample our drinks before he brought them over,” Kim said.

Darlene took a sip of hers, which she quickly followed with a much longer swallow. The sting of Martin’s behavior abated some.

“How did you know this is what I needed?” Darlene asked.