“Thanks so much, Mr. Norton,” she said, slipping into her polite reporter mode. She’d learned that gave her the most flexibility. Start sweet and they had a tendency to underestimate you. “I’m calling from ATN in Washington, DC. Multiple sources tell me that First Lady Anita Crusoe is currently a patient at your center.” She waited a beat to let that sink in. The sourcing was a slight exaggeration—it was only one source and she didn’t exactly hear it firsthand. “I wanted to give you a chance to comment before we go to air.”

There was a pause. “I appreciate the call.” Then silence.

Natalie almost felt bad about giving him a panic like this. He had to know that the First Lady’s stay would eventually leak, but the poor guy couldn’t be excited to field this call. “Ms. Savage, was it? At Huntington, we assure all our patients anonymity. It’s part of the ethos of recovery.”

Patient! He’s just referred to FLOTUS as a patient! In her mind Natalie started doing a jig.

“I hope you understand.” Mr. Norton sounded apologetic.

“Of course I understand, Mr. Norton. My own family has struggled with addiction and I respect your commitment to privacy.” She felt a tinge of guilt for trading on her father’s personal history, but it was a good way to win the source’s trust. “This is a great opportunity for you to educate the public about recovery and your good work.”

“Well, I do appreciate the offer, it’s very kind of you,” he said without a hint of appreciation. “I’m sure that you understand we have many high-profile patients. Were I to speak in response to this inquiry, it might lead the press to call about other clients.”

Natalie was flush with excitement. The way he said “many high-profile patients” was the agreement she needed. He was essentially saying that FLOTUS was one of their high-profile patients but there were many others. Of course he wasn’t allowed to confirm FLOTUS was there, but twice declining the opportunity to deny it was almost the same.

When she thanked him and hung up, she smiled at Cronkite, “We have a big scoop.” Catching his eye, she felt a flash of regret. Her dad wouldn’t like this story, not at all.

When she was a teenager, he’d get mad whenever she’d needle him to reveal whether anyone she knew was in AA. Anyone famous? Any of her friends’ parents?

“If I were to divulge that, I would be part of the problem,” he’d say.

Guess I’m about to be part of the problem, she thought and dialed Matt.

“Okay, ready?” She smiled absently as the reality of this moment started to sink in. “FLOTUS is in an addiction rehab center in Phoenix.”

“What? Are you sure?”