Feeling pleased with herself for dodging that bullet, she looked round the room to decide what challenge she’d conquer next. Already she’d taken Bibb’s advice and blown out her hair, sort of, by washing the front half of her head, blowing it dry, and leaving the stuff in the back untouched. It was a time-saving trick she’d learned from a globe-trotting war correspondent. “On TV, they only see the hair in front anyway,” the correspondent had explained with an insider’s wink and a toss of her half-cleaned brunette tresses.

She tried to imagine what her friends in New York must be doing right now. They’re probably listening to baby monitors over glasses of wine with their extremely attractive and attentive husbands, debating whether they should have hot married sex or organize photos of their perfect lives, she thought. They always claimed to covet her glamorous TV life, though she was pretty sure none of them had ever shared a temporary corporate suite with a sad cowboy.

Her laptop flashed with an alert from the Washington Post. “BamBam Lystra Ordered $10,000 Bottle of Wine at a Jefferson Hotel Dinner with Top Caruso Administration Officials.” She logged into Facebook and found paparazzi photos of the Colombian leader very nearly sticking his head into the G-cup bosom of a D-list reality star while the secretary of energy laughed and illegally smoked a cigar indoors.

Guess he’s not too worried about his son, Natalie thought, as she scrolled absentmindedly through her feed. Steadily she found herself sinking into the Facebook blues until she was staring at an image of Derek Bomgard, her most recent crush. After two dates Derek had left for an aid trip in Sri Lanka and had clearly returned with more than good memories. As she studied the woman he was kissing in the image, a familiar feeling of tightness crept into her chest. She called up the meant-to-be-reassuring words a veteran news anchor had shared when she’d found Natalie hyperventilating about a breakup in the ladies room: “There’s a bright side to being a news nun. We get to skip the divorce bills.”

She gulped in a deep breath. This isn’t healthy, she thought and, pushing her pity party away, reached for her phone. Her sister, Sarah, answered mid-yell.

“Hi, Ms. White House Correspondent. You were amazing today. So smart! You looked born for the briefing room!” Sarah was like a human chill pill.

“My boss doesn’t share your optimism,” Natalie sighed, feeling the breath come back into her body. “Anyway, there’s competition.”

“Of course, there’s competition. It’s the White House,” Sarah said.

“Is this a good time to talk?”

“Wait, that’s Mom on the other line, give me a sec,” Sarah said and disappeared. When she came back, she was sighing. “Mom suggests that instead of getting dinner tomorrow night, we should go for colonics.”