Congressman Aaron Trent of New Jersey is the minority leader. Powerful and influential. If he cracks in his support for Maddy’s landmark legislation, it could start an avalanche. Even inviting him for a sit-down in the Oval could be risky. Who knows what he might say to the press gaggle continuously clustered in the West Wing’s James S. Brady Press Briefing Room?

No. This problem requires immediate, personal, after-hours attention.

At this very moment, Pearce is knocking on the front door of the congressman’s elegant brick home.

The door opens. Maddy is close enough to see the shocked look on Trent’s face. His eyes get even wider when Pearce points to the Suburban. Maddy watches as Pearce practically grabs Trent by the elbow, pulls him through the doorway, and walks him down the brick steps to the curb. The agent by the car steps aside as Pearce opens the rear door.

Maddy looks at Trent from the left rear seat. “Get in, Congressman.”

Trent hesitates for a second as if he thinks he has a choice. Then he ducks his head and slides into the right rear seat. From the street, Pearce closes the heavy door with a thud.

“Madam President, I didn’t expect…” Trent is wearing chinos and a dark blue pullover. Both are dusted with flour.

“Sorry to interrupt your baking,” says Maddy.

Trent starts to brush off the flour, then stops when he realizes he’s dusting the president’s expensive leather seats. “I was showing my daughters how to make scones. Can I ask why—”

Maddy holds up her hand. “Don’t insult me, Aaron. Bad way to start off a meeting. I know you’re backing away from our legislation.”

“Madam President—”

“And if you do, some of the squish members of your party might decide to come with you. What’s going on?” Maddy can sense Trent making mental calculations. “For God’s sake, Aaron, don’t strategize, just talk.”

Trent turns to face her. “Madam President, I have concerns about how this legislation was prepared. Too many closed-door meetings. Too many outside advisers. Not enough involvement from my side of the aisle. If this bargain is going to get the full support of the American people, we need to take another look at it, schedule some open hearings, and—”

“Bullshit, Aaron.”

This gets Trent flustered. Good.

“Ma’am?”

“I said bullshit. Here’s what’s going on. You’ve learned that your good friend Congressman Bragg is planning a leadership challenge. A challenge to you. He thinks you’re too cooperative, too willing to play ball with the other side. So, to show him and his gang of misfits that you have the balls to stand up to the bitch in the Oval Office—that would be me—you want to break your promise and take the whole plan down.”

“Madam President, I don’t want to kill it. I just want to improve it!”