The Reluctant First Lady (13 page)

“It will be interesting to see how this solution will work. We’ll be sure to keep you informed as this story unfolds.”

MSNBC – Rachel Maddow

“The President-elect, Michael Taylor, announced today he’s creating a new position, the director of protocol, to assume the duties traditionally held by the First Lady.

“It will be interesting to see who is appointed to the job. I can’t imagine stepping into a role that is relatively undefined. None of us really knows what the First Lady does besides acting as the hostess for the White House and generally adopting some additional cause to champion while her husband is in the White House.

“And what happens when Mrs. Taylor visits her husband and there’s a state dinner? Who’s the head hostess then? I’m glad I don’t have to figure it out.

“We tried to reach Ashley Taylor for comment, but so far she hasn’t returned our calls.

“I agree with Mrs. Taylor’s original position, which is the spouse of an elected president should have the right to choose whether or not he or she wants to be part of his or her spouse’s political life. To date, this is the first time this issue has been called into question. What do the rest of you think? You can log onto Rachel Maddow.com to give us your opinion.

Fox News – Bill O’Reilly

“Do you remember when I told you voting a president into office who comes from Berkeley had the potential of being bad for our country? Well, here’s further proof.

“President-elect Taylor has created a position to replace his wife; he calls it the director of protocol.

“There’s nothing about this decision that is good or right or moral for our country. Do you know what the word is for betraying one’s country? It’s treason. Most men would be ashamed of their wives for this almost treasonous behavior, and they would have the dignity to step down from the office.

“Mrs. Taylor is being unpatriotic and, I’d have to add, selfish. The example she’s setting for the young women of America isn’t to be tolerated. I’m calling on all of the citizens of our country to let their voices be heard. Call your congressman and weigh in on this very important issue.”

Late Night with Jimmy Fallon

Jimmy deadpans to his audience, “Did you hear President-elect Taylor is going to appoint a director of proto-call girl? That would be proto-call girl.” He pronounces “protocol” again with the emphasis on “call girl.” The audience laughs.

“What?” He places his hand to his ear as though he’s listening to a message in a nonexistent earpiece.

“I’m sorry. I meant to say, he’s appointing a director of protocol to handle the duties of his wife.” Jimmy raises his eyebrows and makes a suggestive face. The audience laughs again.

“What?” He listens again to a supposed earpiece.

“Let me try this one more time. Today, President-elect Taylor announced he’s creating a new position in his administration called the director of protocol. This position will assume many of the responsibilities of past First Ladies, and it will be under him.”

The audience laughs as Jimmy shakes his head and grins. “Listen, this is serious business. I’m just trying to report the news here.”

19

Two weeks had passed since Michael had announced the director of protocol position, and the media was rabid to get a direct response from Ashley. Reporters and paparazzi followed her everywhere, constantly bombarding her with questions.

“What was your first reaction when President-elect Taylor told you about his solution for filling the First Lady position?”

“Are you and President-elect Taylor separating?”

“Are you getting a divorce?”

That’s it; she’d had it. It was easier said than done to keep repeating “No comment.” Ashley threw caution to the wind. Her patience had been stretched to the point of snapping, and her fuse was short. After hearing the next ridiculous question—“Is there another woman in President-elect Taylor’s life?”—Ashley stopped and turned to face the reporters.

“I’m only going to say this once. The president and I are not separating or getting a divorce, nor is my husband fooling around with another woman. But it doesn’t really matter what I say, does it? Because you’ll edit and splice my comments until you come up with a sound bite that suits the inflammatory story you want to tell.”

Ashley had the childish urge to give the crowd of reporters the finger, but she knew that would only make matters worse. She flashed on the picture that would appear on the front page of every newspaper if she gave in to her impulse. Of course, she’d be doing exactly what they wanted her to do. She sucked it up and entered the museum. At times like these, she was extremely grateful to have the Secret Service running interference for her. They couldn’t shield her entirely, but it was a lot better than it would be if they weren’t around.

To their credit, they did a great job of keeping the media out of the museum and from blocking its entrance. The number of visitors had almost doubled due partly to all of the notoriety surrounding her. Ashley hoped that, given time, some other juicy news story would come along and the press would find a new target for their focus.

Ashley sat back and looked at the stack of work accumulating on her desk. She glanced at her watch; it was only nine thirty, and she already felt as if she’d put in a full day of work. The weeks and days before the museum’s Black Tie Dinner were hell. No matter how much advance planning went into the affair, a million details had to be handled at the last minute.

Every year she wondered why she agreed to host the event. She worried over every detail of the glittering black tie affair. Yet, not once in the years since she’d been in charge of planning the event had there been even the slightest glitch in the scheme of things.

Even her boss and friend, Robert Cameron, the owner of the famous Cameron Museum of Art chain, was confident that under Ashley’s supervision, the Black Tie Dinner would be a stellar event. Robert was lavish with his praise about the way she handled things. And, if the increases in her annual salary were any indication of his sincerity, he meant every single word. She was currently making about the same amount of money that Michael would be making as president. It was a far cry from where she had started life, living in a one-bedroom apartment with her mother. Despite her achievements and rise in social status, she was still filled with doubts, and her doubts had a voice: if only she worked harder; if only she worked longer hours, if only she worked smarter if only she worked more efficiently. If, if, if.

Her relationship with Robert and his museums went back almost two decades. He hired her right out of college, and she quickly made her mark on the San Francisco museum with her fresh perspectives. She was well liked by her coworkers, popular among the patrons, and sought out by new artists looking to place their work. She negotiated important exhibition exchanges with other museums and galleries.

She loved her job. She was thrilled to be working while Michael was in law school. It never occurred to her to think of herself as the breadwinner. She and Michael were a team. What each did was for their future together. However, after law school when Michael began working for the district attorney’s office in San Francisco, he wanted and expected Ashley to quit her job. Ashley felt as if, having served her purpose, she was being put out to pasture. Her job became a constant source of irritation between them right up to the day she gave birth to the twins, Jeremy and Juliette.

Michael maintained she should stay at home while the children were little, a completely unnecessary demand for him to make as far as Ashley was concerned. She didn’t want her children raised by someone else. She wanted to be there for all of their “firsts.” She had no intention of working until they started school, but just the fact that Michael was trying to tell her what to do infuriated her. Once the twins started kindergarten, she made it clear to Michael she planned to go back to work. Michael didn’t want his wife to work. His mother had been a housewife while Ashley’s mother had always worked. It never occurred to her that she wouldn’t do the same thing. She wanted to work, and she loved her job.

Against her husband’s advice and wishes, Ashley returned to work. She called Robert Cameron to see if there was a job available in his organization. He didn’t hesitate to rehire her. She’d been an outstanding employee. Not only did she have a passion for the arts and the museum, but she also was an astute businesswoman.

Her ruminations had put Ashley in a sentimental mood this morning. This would be the first Black Tie Dinner that Michael would miss since she’d begun hosting them. Lord knows, she didn’t have time to daydream, but she felt like indulging herself anyway. She smiled just thinking about the weekend she and Michael had shared just a week ago.

It began with awkward silences and polite responses. They’d made a pact to leave their disagreements at the door. However, thrashing out their positions again might have been better than trying to act as if everything were just fine, which it obviously was not. Hurt feelings and nervous tension kept them from returning to the easy companionship they’d always shared.

Michael made a concerted effort to stock the kitchen with all of their favorite foods, hoping to avoid the need to go out. Their time together was a gift, and they both wanted desperately to put their relationship back on an even keel. They ached from their need for one another and hated how disagreements and separations had hindered their relationship and sex life. It was as though there were a barrier in the room they couldn’t remove.

Ashley finally plunged in. “We’ve got to get past this, Michael, or our marriage will truly be over whether we stay together or not.”

Michael didn’t speak for a minute, which gave Ashley a doomed, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally he let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if I can get over you refusing to be the First Lady. I want to, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the media or my image or appearances. I’m hurt that you don’t want to be at my side during my presidency. We’ve always tried to be there for one another during key times in our lives, and this time you checked out.

“Plus, I can see what great things you could accomplish as the First Lady. You could promote art and the fine arts for the nation, not just for the museum. Doesn’t that appeal to you on some level?”

Ashley couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better. She would never be happy running a national campaign for the arts. She reached up and put her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him, first tentatively, then with increased passion. That was all it took to shatter the glass wall that had formed between them.

Making it to the bedroom was out of the question; their need for one another was too great. Michael began raining small kisses all over Ashley’s face and neck, working his way down to the top of her breasts and back up again to her mouth. He kissed her with unchecked desire, separating her lips with his tongue as he sought the sweet cavern within her mouth.

All control was gone as they ripped buttons and seams in an effort to rid themselves of their clothes. Michael reached for Ashley’s breasts and kneaded them as she reached for his rigid manhood that lay against her stomach. The groans they uttered only intensified their need for one another.

He entered her body swiftly with her hips rising to meet his thrusts as their bodies began a long dance of remembered lovemaking. Their abstinence had made their joining all the more fevered and sweet.

Michael slowed his movements as he covered Ashley’s breasts with his hands. He teased her nipples with his thumbs, bringing them erect. He closed his mouth over one breast and laved it with his tongue and pulled at it slightly with his lips as Ashley ran her fingers through his thick hair. They were overripe for one another’s bodies. Each movement sent lust pulsating through their nervous system. Their climaxes came fast and strong, leaving them dazed and breathless.

Ashley leaned forward and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I’ve missed us.”

Michael stroked the hills and the valleys of his wife’s body, all so familiar, and yet he would never grow tired of touching her. She was the woman he’d love until the day he died, despite the fact that she was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Ashley stood to gather her clothes, but Michael captured her hand. “You mean, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” he said, teasing and taunting her.

“I need to be fed, now,” Ashley insisted. “And I’ll take the biggest glass of water that you have.”

With their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they went in search of food.

Over cold chicken and potato salad, Michael asked, “Do you think there’s any chance you could transfer to the Cameron Museum here in Washington?”

Despite the laziness that had overtaken her body, Ashley’s radar went up immediately. “Of course, I could probably make it happen, but that’s not being fair to Ted, who runs the Washington, DC, gallery. I won’t use my influence, or yours, to get reassigned to Washington. That’s not playing fair, Michael.”

“Is it fair or acceptable that the two of us remain apart? Is it fair that the wife of the president lives in another state?” Michael asked.

Ashley spoke quietly as she rebutted her husband’s remarks. “It didn’t seem to bother you when you were a congressman or a senator. We lived apart then, and you never pressured me to live in Washington. Just because you’re going to be the president doesn’t mean we should be stepping on other people’s toes. Don’t you dare intervene.”

That was the last conversation they’d had on the topic. For the rest of the weekend, they were like teenagers. The only time they got out of bed was to eat, bathe, and seek out other imaginative places to make love.

On the plane ride back to New York, she’d already begun to feel the emptiness inside her that only Michael could fill. Why were relationships so hard? You’d think finding the one man you’d love forever would be good enough to carry you through life. But no, it seemed fate had a sense of humor. It seemed to say, let’s see what happens if we throw these obstacles at them. Well, fine. A plan was beginning to form in her mind, and after the fund-raiser and the inaugural celebration, she would give it her full attention.