“Honey, it doesn’t take Sigmund Freud to figure out that you’re stressed out. Look at those circles under your eyes. You’ve got a social schedule that would exhaust a rhinoceros. On top of that, you’re working every spare moment trying to change the eating habits of three hundred million Americans, while keeping the fragile ego of their president appropriately stroked. Sometimes, I don’t think you realize just how much you’ve taken on.”

“Well, maybe it’s time I put my agenda on a diet.”

Kim took a healthy swallow and set her glass firmly on the table. “Nonsense,” she said. “Just because the president of the United States acts like your work is irrelevant doesn’t make it so. You just have to pace yourself better, that’s all—a little more shopping, a little more spa time, a few more vacations, an extra hour at the gym. Sweetheart, you’re changing things out there. You’ve read the reports. You’re like the pediatrician to the nation, and people are starting to pay attention to your message.”

“Sure, they’re starting to listen, but change is coming very slowly. And if we don’t get reelected, any chance of making much of a difference will be gone.”

“Meal by meal, isn’t that your war cry? Keep pushing, Dar. Just don’t push yourself over a cliff. Blow off steam when the pressure gets too intense, and for God’s sake, don’t let that galoot you’re married to get away with not giving you or your cause the respect you deserve.”

Darlene clinked Kim’s glass with more enthusiasm. “You know, Hajjar, I think you’d make someone a great chief of staff. Are you looking for a job?”

“Depends,” Kim answered, her rich brown eyes gleaming playfully. “Will I have to keep reminding you how terrific you are?”

“Absolutely,” Darlene said.

“Well, then, count me in.”

Just then, Ochoa came over to their table, leaned down, and spoke softly in Darlene’s ear. “Madam First Lady, Russell Evans is upstairs in the private party room. He asked if you two would be willing to join him for a drink.”

Darlene took a hard swallow of her V&T against the tightness that had developed in her chest. She flashed Kim a surprised look.

Evans, former Secretary of Agriculture, had been one of her husband’s first cabinet appointments. His resignation, in disgrace, had been responsible for at least some of the drop in Martin’s numbers. The scandal had been especially hard on Darlene. She and Evans went back to their childhood years in the Kansas plains town of Dubuque, where their farming families were neighbors even though they lived several miles apart. In fact, Martin had first met Evans through her, not long after the three of them started at Kansas State, and often used him as an adviser during his climb up the political mountain.

“Russ Evans is upstairs,” Darlene whispered.

“Goodness.”

“He wants to speak with us.”

“You okay with that?”

“Are you?”

“Part of me still thinks he was set up, if that’s what you mean.”