Silence.

Followed by Sinatra’s face breaking into a smile, like an eggshell that’d been delicately tapped. A full grin. Teeth. Then Sinatra laughed and everyone exhaled and laughed along with him.

“Congressman, this one is a keeper,” Sinatra said, pointing at Margaret. “C’mon! Let’s get some swinging music going in here!” He raised his glass and held it up to Margaret.

From the speakers came a rapid race of trumpets and trombones, soon interrupted by Sinatra’s voice singing an old Mexican song from the 1930s that he’d covered in May and released on Swing Along with Me in June.

Granada, I’m falling under your spell

And if you could speak, what a fascinating tale you would tell…

Martin patted Sinatra on the shoulder and the two toasted each other.

“You’re the belle of the ball, Betsy,” Charlie whispered to Margaret, placing his hand on the small of her back.

“Or at least Best Supporting Actress,” she said. Charlie knew how much she loathed that particular word Frank had used. She’d deployed it anyway—to break the tension, to help the cause. But she’d hated doing it. She felt like a sellout.

And not for the first time. Margaret had put her career on hold to have Lucy and Dwight and she still beat herself up over it, resenting how her focus was now on dirty dishes and diapers instead of scholarship and the chance to gain recognition. Sensing her frustration, Charlie often told her he was eager to have her return to work full-time as soon as she wanted. She never said it, but she did wonder how sincere he was being.

After the momentary introspection, Margaret dived back into the sea of revelry, where neither the Sinatra songs nor the drinking ever stopped. Soon she and Charlie were dealt into the game. MacLaine mentioned how much she was looking forward to seeing the fellas in Sergeants 3, which was to hit theaters soon.

“That’s the one that’s based on Gunga Din but takes place in the Old West,” Margaret explained to Charlie.

“You’re not a big fan of pictures, Congressman?” asked Sinatra.

“Don’t get to go to the theater as much as I’d like,” Charlie said. “With work and the kids. We used to go every Saturday night. We’re fans of everyone here.”

“Really?” asked Martin incredulously. Then he leaned forward with a challenge: “Name your favorite film starring each one of us.”

Charlie sat up in his seat as everyone eyed him curiously. He loved being underestimated, though it seldom happened anymore.

“I liked you in Rio Bravo,” Charlie told Martin.

“I liked how they cast you against type, made you a lazy drunk,” Margaret added. This elicited guffaws from everyone, including Martin. “Good to see you branch out.”