Not that he didn’t have plenty to do. Information flowed toward him like rapids in a river, flooding every corner of his conscience with details that needed to be managed with differing levels of urgency—briefings, meetings, phone calls. It was nonstop for as much as twelve hours a day. In addition, the media was on him twenty-four seven, picking apart every word he said, everything he did and every action of his administration with a ruthlessness that defied description.

He was trying hard to love it, but by this time of the day, he was ready for some family time. He’d had a long conversation with his senior adviser and close friend Senator Graham O’Connor earlier. Talking to him always helped Nick find perspective on the most difficult issues. It was all Graham’s “fault” that Nick was in this office in the first place. Nick smiled when he thought about how excited Graham was that he was president.

Graham’s son Terry came in carrying the ever-present briefing book that Nick took “home” with him each evening to prepare for the next day. “I heard from a contact at State that the inspector general is opening an inquiry into what went down in Iran. Interestingly, the director of the Diplomatic Security Service is demanding a congressional hearing because his agents have a very different story than the one Ruskin is peddling. I also heard on the deep down low that Justice is taking a look at the situation, too.”

“I’d be very happy to see Ruskin held accountable.” Since Nick had fired former secretary of State Martin Ruskin after the bizarre incident in Iran, Ruskin had been ruthless in his public criticism of the country’s youngest president, who lacked, as Ruskin put it, the “gravitas” to do the job he hadn’t been “elected by anyone” to do. Not to mention, Ruskin was fond of saying, he didn’t even want the job.

The guy was a windbag, but the cable news shows were eating up his criticism of the new president, who’d had just about enough of the guy.

Terry brought Gretchen into the office shortly after six thirty. “Mr. President, Gretchen Henderson to see you.” Tall with dark hair done in spiral curls that framed a strikingly beautiful face, Gretchen came toward him with a smile and an extended hand.

Nick stood to greet her with a handshake. “Thank you, Terry. Good to see you again, Gretchen.”

“You, too, Mr. President. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem. I didn’t give you much notice.”

Per their earlier conversation, Terry left the room but kept the office door open to avoid any hint of impropriety. Nick hated having to think that way, but he didn’t know her and still wasn’t sure he trusted her. “Have a seat.” Nick gestured to the sofa next to the chair he settled into. “Please help yourself to the refreshments.”

She leaned forward to pour herself a cup of the coffee one of the butlers had brought in earlier. “Thank you.”

“The cookies are to die for,” Nick said. “I’ve had to limit myself to one a day.”

“I remember how good they were the last time I was here.” She smiled and chose one of the sugar cookies, placing it on a napkin. “I’m sure you could get away with two.”

“I’m afraid to risk getting addicted. The White House staff takes very good care of us.”

“It has to be such a huge adjustment for you and your family.”

“That’s for sure, but we’re settling in and figuring out how to find our way around. This place is so much bigger than it appears from the outside.”

“I liked what you said after the shooting,” she said between bites of the sugar cookie. “It was the right tone and the right time to raise the topic—again—of some sort of reasonable gun control.”

“That was unscripted and came directly from the father in me who can’t imagine what those families must be feeling today.”

“It’s unfathomable.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come in again on short notice.”

“The question did cross my mind,” she said with a small smile that made her brown eyes sparkle.

“I’m still in need of a vice president, and I was hoping you might still be interested.”

“I’d be honored, but I thought you’d settled on Senator Sanford.”

“I’ll admit she was my first choice, but she’s more interested in the opening at State.”

“Ah, I see, although I’m surprised she’d pass up the opportunity to be the first female vice president.”

“I believe she feels she could be more effective as secretary of State, and that’s probably true. Having served as vice president, I can attest to the lack of a clear role and how challenging that can be. However, as I mentioned in our first meeting, I’d like my vice president to be a true partner in governing. After just a few weeks in office, it’s clear to me that I need serious help to manage everything that comes my way on any given day. I’m not looking for a vice president to relegate to the cheap seats. I want someone willing to get their hands dirty with real work.”

“That appeals to me very much, Mr. President. I’ve become accustomed to keeping a frantically busy schedule between my work and my children. I’m afraid I’d be terribly bored without a real role to play in your administration.”

“That’s good to know. Again, I have to ask if you and your children are prepared to move to the VP residence on the grounds of the Naval Observatory and to accommodate the intrusiveness of Secret Service protection.”

“After you had me in the first time, I had a long talk with my kids about what would change if I were chosen for this position. While they had some concerns about privacy and safety, they agreed it would be worth the sacrifice for me to have this historic opportunity.”

“In that case, I’m pleased to formally offer you the position, pending the approval of Congress, of course.”