Gabe smiled. If, over the years, he had suffered from too little father, Drew Stoddard had suffered from too much. From his days in diapers, Stoddard had been molded by the charismatic, wildly successful industrialist. The heartache Buzz Singleton endured when Gabe was drummed out of the Naval Academy had to pale next to LeMar Stoddard's having to explain to his pals at the hunt club or the polo pitch or wherever that Drew had become a Democrat—and one of the shining stars of the party at that.

Did Drew's remarkable transformation from elitist Republican to populist Democrat have its roots in the accident at Fairhaven all those years ago? Gabe often wondered. In such an inestimable tragedy, not even the bystanders and innocents like Drew Stoddard escaped unchanged.

Gabe set a pot of Earl Grey tea and some shortbread on the table. There was a time before the last presidential election when the two of them got together once or twice a year to hike and fish in the Smokies or Laramies, and exchange news and stories, but now, despite their long-standing friendship, Gabe felt strangely edgy about taking up the time of the most powerful man in the solar system with small talk. Still, this last-minute trip to Tyler was Stoddard's doing, so it seemed right to let him set the agenda.

Gabe didn't have long to wait.

"Did you know that in addition to the comprehensive medical facility on the first floor of the Eisenhower Office Building we have our own medical clinic right in the White House?" Stoddard began.

"You said something about it in one of our conversations, yes."

"It's run by the White House Medical Unit. Which, for reasons lost in antiquity, is actually a division of the White House Military Office. Pretty nice setup, too—recently renovated, state-of-the-art equipment, top-notch nurses and paramedics, and the best doctors from all branches of the service. Twenty-five or thirty staff altogether. They take care of me and Carol and the boys when they're home from school, as well as Vice President Cooper and his family, and anyone else who happens to need medical care while they're at the White House."

"The boys—they doing well?"

"Terrific. Andrew's going into eleventh; Rick'll be in ninth. Both are at school in Connecticut. Right now they're at soccer camp. Andrew's an all-star goalie. Rick plays because he thinks he should. He wants to go to the Academy and be an astronaut."

"Think you can get him in?"

"I think he can get in on his own, but I may keep an eye on his application."

"Eleventh and ninth—that's amazing."

"They're happy and healthy. That's all that really matters."

"Speaking of healthy, you had your doc from North Carolina come up to D.C. to care for you, yes?"

"Jim Ferendelli. He's been a great doctor for me and the family. The best. Kind, knowledgeable, empathetic. Plays beautiful classical piano, too."