Page 49 of Jackie

“She’s become a friend,” I say. “Her own house is gorgeous. I’ve told her I even love the stale candy in the antique jars.”

“Speaking of antiques,” says Jack, “Mrs. Auchincloss, I’d like your opinion on Jackie’s new chairs. Louis XVI chairs, she explained when I got the bill. I’ve told her a chair is a chair. You just need to sit in it.”

I laugh. “All those men working on your campaign, Jack, need comfortable chairs to sit in. They’re hostage for hours in those meetings.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “What do you think, Mrs. Auchincloss?”

“Please call me Janet.” Her smile softens a bit.

“Janet, take a look at this,” he says, picking up a copy of the April 21 Life magazine. On the cover, Caroline is on Jack’s lap, a pink dress, her bare plump legs poking out, one hand gripping his suit sleeve.

I take the magazine and flip through to find the article.

“Where are we, Jack?” I keep flipping the pages. “Oh, here. Way back. Page 132, right after a piece about learning to surf in Australia.”

“It’s the cover that matters,” says Jack, a little defensive, which makes me smile.

“I’d like to surf in Australia.” I hand the open magazine back to my mother.

“I’d like a baby,” says my mother.

“I’ll get her for you,” Jack says, heading toward the stairs.

“He loves a reason to wake her up,” I say.

My mother starts to say something, then doesn’t. She looks around. “I like the chairs.”

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

She glances at me. “It’s like anything else, Jackie. Live with it for a while, see how you feel.”

…

Jack asks me to go on a short campaign trip with him through Massachusetts. An out-and-back in May. Three stops in the morning, a break for lunch, more stops in the afternoon. In the car heading west, I sit in the backseat with Kenny O’Donnell. Kenny was Bobby’s roommate in college and worked on Jack’s first campaign. Jack calls him “our play-only-hardball gatekeeper.”

“How long is lunch, Kenny?” I ask.

“Two hours.”

“That’s a long lunch.”

“It’s the deal we made with the ambassador to make sure Jack doesn’t run out of gas.”

I smile. “Nothing like making deals with the ambassador.”

“They told me you were fragile,” Kenny says.

“Fragile?”

—

We walk through the restaurant to a back room. There are plenty of open tables up front, but it’s clear this has been prearranged.

“No menus?” I ask Kenny.

“Steak and potatoes are already ordered.”

“You eat the same thing every day?”

---