Since he’d fired the other guy, that was. He had zero regrets about that decision, even if Ruskin was trashing him all over town. “I guess we need to bring Gretchen Henderson back in, then,” Nick said with a twinge of unease. Sam had had one of her “feelings” about Henderson, and he’d learned to take those things seriously, but with the DNC pushing for Henderson, he was running up against a strong headwind. “Who else is there besides her?”

“You’re set on appointing a woman, right?” Christina asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Then I’d say she’s the best you’re going to get. We’ve done the vetting on every other high-profile female in the national spotlight and we’re down to her.”

“How’s that possible?” Nick asked.

Christina gave him a lengthy rundown of the top female operatives, all of whom had declined to be considered for a wide variety of reasons ranging from family concerns that required their involvement to vital committee assignments or governorships that would be useful in other ways.

“In short,” Christina concluded, “Henderson is the one the DNC wants. They like the idea of a young, dynamic pair as the face of the party going forward. Henderson has made a lot of friends with her get-out-the-vote efforts on behalf of candidates around the country. She has a ton of support at the grass-roots level.”

Nick debated whether he should mention that Sam had gotten an unsettling vibe from Gretchen, but she’d had only a passing encounter with the woman as Sam was leaving and Gretchen was arriving. Even though he’d learned to trust his wife’s gut feelings, it’d be foolish to make a decision of this magnitude based on a thirty-second interaction. “Have her come back in for another meeting. I want to talk to her again before I decide for sure.”

“Will do,” Christina said.

“Speaking of Ruskin,” Trevor said, “we’re getting bombed with requests for details about why he was fired and whether it was related to what happened in Iran. We’ve got multiple networks and news outlets threatening to file Freedom of Information requests if we don’t come clean.”

“Well, I did promise that we’d tell the people what happened once we reviewed the events in Tehran. What do you guys recommend?”

Terry spoke up first. “I say you tell your side of the story—that he was less than forthcoming about the events in Iran, and you no longer have confidence in his abilities to represent the United States on the world stage. You could say that you need to feel you can trust the people working within your administration, and while many of your cabinet secretaries are holdovers from the Nelson administration, you value trust and loyalty above all other things. And you could add that former secretary Ruskin knows exactly why his tenure was terminated.”

Trevor had been taking frantic notes the entire time Terry was speaking.

“Did you get that?” Nick asked him.

Trevor nodded.

“Let’s release that as a statement—exactly what Terry said.” He glanced at Christina. “Do you approve?”

“My only worry is that you’ll further infuriate Ruskin with the statement, which will add fuel to his fire.”

“I honestly don’t care what he says about me,” Nick said. “I know the truth, and so does he. I’m comfortable with the statement. Go ahead and release it at the daily briefing, Christina.”

Nick checked the silver TAG Heuer watch Sam had given him. He had twenty minutes until a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the secretary of Defense about some issues in the South China Sea that had been mentioned in the morning briefing documents over the last couple of days.

The meetings never ended and ran the gamut from deadly boring to truly terrifying, with almost nothing in the middle. Not to mention the decisions he was forced to make on a daily basis—everything from sending troops into a hot spot in the Middle East to proposed cuts to programs that benefited the country’s neediest citizens to conversations with world leaders about issues such as climate change, immigration and cyberattacks.

There was no shortage of problems, needs and ideas, but at the end of every meeting, everyone in the room looked to him because his take was the only one that mattered.

If he allowed himself to think too much about the responsibility that sat on his shoulders, he might buckle under the weight of it. Since buckling wasn’t an option, he tried to take things one minute—and one meeting—at a time, while still trying to determine who among Nelson’s secretaries he could trust and who he couldn’t.

A knock on the door of the Oval Office interrupted his musings and the conversation that had gone on without him among his top aides. “Come in,” Nick called.

“Pardon the interruption, Mr. President,” said Derek Kavanaugh, Nick’s longtime personal friend as well as his deputy chief of staff.

“Come on in, Derek,” Nick said.

“I wanted to make you aware of a situation in Des Moines. Gunfire has broken out at a Meet with Santa event being held at an elementary school. We have reports of multiple fatalities, including children.”

“Ah, God,” Nick said, aching for families who’d lost children right before Christmas.

“The FBI and ATF have deployed resources to the scene, and we’re expecting more information in about thirty minutes,” Derek added.

“Thank you, Derek.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, sir.”