“We’re here to make you look good,” Lilia said.

“On days like today, that can be one hell of a job,” Tracy said.

The four of them shared a laugh as Lilia ushered them into an elevator that took them to the second-floor residence, where Gloria Nelson met them. She wore a red pantsuit with a black-and-red floral blouse and black heels.

“We look like we called each other to coordinate our colors,” Gloria said as she greeted Sam with a smile and a hug.

“That’s funny,” Sam said, touched by Gloria’s warmth.

“I heard you were injured earlier. Are you all right?”

“Other than my banged-up face and hands, I’m fine.”

“Ouch.”

Aware of a photographer documenting the moment, Sam stepped back, but kept a light hold on Gloria’s hands, ignoring the pain radiating from hers. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know… Good moments and bad moments. It’s helped to have the family here with me. I’ve sent them down to the bowling alley so we can have a few minutes to ourselves.”

“I’d like to introduce you to my sisters, Tracy Hogan and Angela Radcliffe. Ladies, this is Gloria Nelson.”

“It’s so lovely to meet you both,” Gloria said as she shook their hands. “I’m so glad you could join us today.”

“Thank you for having us,” Angela said, seeming starstruck.

Gloria had had the same impact on Sam the first time they’d met at John O’Connor’s funeral. She was an impressive, accomplished woman in her own right, and Sam had always admired her, never more so than how she’d handled the scandal that followed her husband’s affair.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Tracy said.

“Thank you. The outpouring of love and support has just been overwhelming. Despite everything, people still loved David.” She led them into a beautifully appointed sitting room with red walls, high ceilings, elaborate moldings and priceless artwork. Sam had been in that room once before, when she and Nick met with President and Mrs. Nelson after their son Christopher targeted them and was charged with murdering Sam’s ex-husband. It was there that the Nelsons had assured them they’d known nothing of their son’s schemes until the rest of the world found out. “Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Lilia, you’re welcome to join us.”

Sam waved for her to come in.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lilia said, sitting across from Sam.

As usual, Gloria looked as if she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon, with every one of her blonde hairs perfectly coiffed and her makeup flawless. Sam felt like an impostor sitting in Gloria’s presence as the nation’s new first lady.

An older Black man in a tuxedo uniform appeared, rolling a cart with a silver tea service and a wide assortment of pastries that made Sam’s mouth water, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything but the granola bar hours earlier.

“Roland Daniels, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Cappuano and her sisters, Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. Radcliffe. I believe you know Mrs. Cappuano’s chief of staff, Lilia Van Nostrand.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Roland said. “We look forward to welcoming your family, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Roland,” Sam said. “It’s wonderful to meet you too.”

“Roland has been here for six administrations, counting your husband’s,” Gloria said. “And his father was here for twenty-eight years before that.”

“That’s amazing,” Sam said. “Thank you for your service.”

“It’s been an honor and a privilege, ma’am.”

He poured tea for each of them and offered them plates and pastries.

“I can already see that living here isn’t going to be good for my waistline,” Sam said as she took a raspberry tart and a lemon danish. Just to be polite, or so she told herself. Whatever.

“You’ll have your very own pastry chefs,” Gloria said.

Sam groaned with pleasure when she took a bite of the tart. “This won’t be good at all.”