Eighteen Acres: A Novel (13 page)

Melanie thought about Michael’s call. “It certainly feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it?” she agreed.

“It does.” Charlotte nodded ruefully.

Annie knocked on the door. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, but the motorcade is ready when you are, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Annie,” Melanie and Charlotte both said.

“Let’s get this goat rodeo over with,” Charlotte said. “Peter is meeting us in the limo.”

“He’s coming?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah. Ralph called him and told him it would be helpful if he were around more.”

Melanie didn’t say anything. They walked slowly out to the limo.

“I wish I could fast-forward the evening about five hours,” Charlotte said.

“I know. Just try to look like you’re having fun, at least.” Melanie laughed.

They stood outside the limo for a moment. Melanie thought that Charlotte might tell her what was going on with Peter. She saw her open her mouth to say something, but then Peter appeared, and she got into the car and plastered a smile onto her face for the ten-minute ride to the Washington Hilton.

Once they arrived at the dinner, Charlotte and Peter put on one of the best shows Melanie had ever seen. They gazed adoringly at each other. They hugged and kissed the reporters. They remembered the names of every reporter’s kid, where they went to school, and where they’d interned the summer before.

“Where is Jimmy going to intern this summer?” Charlotte was asking the host of
Meet the Press
.

“He would love to do something at Treasury.”

“Have him call Melanie,” Charlotte said.

Melanie made small talk with a few of the anchors and network executives and then went to find her table. She was sitting with Billy Moore at the network’s head table. As she neared the table, Dale and Billy appeared to be having a serious conversation. He whispered something in her ear and hugged her. Melanie started to turn away, but Billy saw her before she could make a detour.

“Melanie, join us,” Billy said. Melanie always thought he was too nice to work in the news business.

“Melanie, Dale, obviously you know each other,” he said.

“Of course. How are you doing, Dale? All set?” Melanie asked quietly.

“Yes, thanks,” Dale said.

“I met Brian today. He came to see me,” Melanie told them.

“He’s a good guy and a great reporter,” Billy said. He spoke of his reporters with a parent’s pride. “He spent the last six years in Iraq
and Afghanistan, and he knows more people there than most of your generals, Melanie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Billy.”

“And he speaks four languages,” Dale added.

“Impressive,” Melanie said.

The lights flashed twice, and the guests took their seats. Melanie looked around at the crowd. The first year of Charlotte’s presidency, the dinner had been packed with celebrities. Movie stars, talk-show hosts, anchors, and television stars all lined up to kiss Charlotte’s ass. Now, with Charlotte down in the polls, a few reality-television stars and the regular cast of on-air news anchors and journalists were the only ones who turned out.

Melanie checked her watch every five minutes. At ten minutes to nine, she excused herself. Charlotte hadn’t begun her remarks yet. They were still handing out “excellence in journalism” awards to a group of reporters who had done a series attacking Charlotte for neglecting poor pregnant women.

“What an awful night this is,” Melanie muttered to herself as she walked through the empty hotel lobby.

“First I catch you half-naked, and now I catch you talking to yourself,” said Brian, stepping out from behind a pillar in the hotel lobby where he’d been reading his e-mail.

Melanie couldn’t help but smile back. He looked even more handsome in a tuxedo. “I know. I’m officially one of those crazy women who talk to themselves and collect cats, right?”

“That appears to be the case, but I won’t tell anyone. Hey, are you leaving? I’d love to get out of here myself. This has to be one of the worst Washington traditions I’ve experienced in my short time in this town.”

“I would love to leave, but my boss hasn’t delivered her brilliant remarks yet,” she said.

“I meant that I’d love to get out of here as soon as her speech is over,” he said.

Melanie laughed at his correction. “I’m actually just running out to make a call.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you back in there, cat lady,” Brian said, smiling.

“Yes, I’ll be right back.” Melanie turned to leave.

“Melanie, are you making the round of postparties?” he asked.

“I usually don’t stay up that late,” she said over her shoulder. She could feel her phone vibrating in her evening bag.

“Too bad,” Brian said with another smile.

Melanie didn’t know what to make of that comment, but she enjoyed turning it around in her head as she walked away slowly.

When she was sure she was out of his view, she scooped her dress up with one hand and quickened her pace. She made her way to where the motorcade had dropped them off two hours earlier. Michael was leaning against one of the press vans, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey,” he said when he saw her.

“Hey,” she said back.

“You clean up pretty good,” he said.

“That’s better than my last greeting from you. I think it was something like ‘You look like shit,’” she said.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry,” he said.

“What have you got? I need to get back in there,” Melanie said.

“I have a source who is acting as a middleman for a very close personal friend of the first family. The source says that he, he or she, is ready to go public with photos, phone logs, gifts, and eyewitness accounts that verify an affair.”

“That’s basically what you told me when we met in New York,” Melanie pointed out.

Michael took a final drag on his cigarette and then stomped it out.

“Have you advanced the story at all, or are you still barking up trees?” Melanie asked.

“My middleman says his source is getting more and more comfortable with the idea of going public to make sure the real Charlotte is revealed. Once I get photos and the eyewitness account on the record, the magazine is going to print the story.”

“So, you’re not exactly on the cusp of breaking much of anything, Michael,” Melanie accused. “All you have is a source who thinks he has a source who is willing to string together some clues that point to troubles in Charlotte’s marriage. So what? I can knock that down in a round of cable interviews by accusing some Democrats of being on a partisan witch hunt against America’s first female president. And I
don’t need to tell you that once we turn the story into one about sexism in the mainstream media, we’ll have no problem changing the subject.”

“The source is unimpeachable Mel. I wish I could tell you who it is. God, do I wish I could tell you, because you would know how serious this was if I did, but if I blow it, they take the story to the networks.”

“Wait, you know who the source is?” Melanie asked.

“Yes. I demanded to know. I told them I wasn’t putting my name on anything unless I knew.”

“But you won’t tell me?”

“I can’t,” Michael said.

“Then what am I doing out here?” Melanie complained.

“I thought you should know something about the story we’re hearing from the source,” Michael said.

“What?”

“It’s not Peter,” Michael said.

“What?”

“Peter’s not the one having the affair,” Michael said.

Melanie looked at him blankly.

“I’m sorry, Melanie.”

She felt as if she was underwater again.

“Melanie, are you going to be able to talk to her tonight? If I can get my source to go on the record, I’m going with the story,” he said.

Melanie’s ears started to ring. “What do you want me to say to her?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Isn’t that why they pay you the big bucks?”

“Yeah, right. I need to get back in there. I’ll call you later.”

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said.

Melanie turned to go back to the dinner and nearly tripped over Ralph. “What are you doing out here?” she practically screamed at him.

“I came out to get my things out of the motorcade to go to the afterparties,” he said. “Is everything OK?”

“Yes, everything is fine, Ralph. You just scared the hell out of me.”

She made her way back to her table just as Charlotte was taking the podium.

“I want to thank my husband for being here,” she was saying. Melanie looked at Peter. He was staring right at her. He must have seen her ducking and weaving her way back to the table. She smiled and rolled her eyes. He hated these dinners even more than Charlotte did. But he kept staring. Melanie gave him a small wave, and he still just kept staring. Melanie looked behind her, and there, looking up at Charlotte and laughing at one of her jokes, was Dale Smith—directly in Peter Kramer’s line of sight.

Dale

The ballroom shook with laughter as Charlotte took on every last stereotype and caricature of herself. Some of her harshest critics were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. Dale laughed and clapped enthusiastically, even though all she could think about was the fact that Peter was sitting twenty feet away from her pretending to be in love with his wife. She hated that this was the last time she’d see him before leaving for Afghanistan.

She excused herself as soon as Charlotte’s remarks ended and made her way to the motorcade while the comedian was making a crack about Charlotte and Roger ruling the world together. Dale slid into the van that would take them the twenty blocks to the White House as soon as the comedian was finished. She read and responded to the e-mails that had come in since she’d been at the dinner. She smiled as an e-mail from Peter appeared at the top of her messages: “Be safe, and enjoy the experience. I’ll be waiting for you.”

She exhaled deeply for the first time all night and wrote back immediately: “I promise to be safe and come home to you in one piece. I love and miss you, xxoo. Hey, BTW, Charlotte was hilarious tonight.”

Dale looked up, and they were moving.

The motorcade sped back to the White House. Charlotte and Peter got out of the limo at the front of the motorcade and walked into the
residence. Press aides came back and told the reporters in the van that they had a “full lid,” meaning that the president was in for the night, and they were free to go. Dale was supposed to walk back into the briefing room and wait for the press secretary to retrieve her and put her and the wire reporters into an unmarked van for the secret ride to Andrews Air Force Base.

She sat in one of the theater chairs and took her shoes off. “G’night,” she said to one of the other reporters who had taken the ride back with them.

“Wanna get a drink?” he asked Dale.

“No, I’ve got to file a script for my package for the morning show,” she lied.

“Oh, shit, that sucks. I’ll have a drink for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Dale said.

She was alone in the briefing room. The other reporters traveling to Afghanistan had gone outside for a cigarette.

One of the agents stuck his head in and called her name. She jumped up from the seat and hurried toward him. “Wait here,” he said. Dale stood in the cool night air alone and wondered if she should grab the others.

“The president asked us to put you in the car with her, Miss Smith,” the agent said.

“Are all the reporters traveling with her?” she asked.

“No, ma’am. They’ll be in the van back there.” He pointed at a white van a few feet behind the SUV. The agent walked over to the black SUV and opened the passenger door. “You can sit on this side. The president will be down in a couple of minutes.”

Dale struggled into the SUV in her evening gown. She was carrying a change of clothes, but the press staff had forbidden them from changing out of their formal attire. Dale sat in the car and waited. Her mind was racing. She wanted desperately to e-mail Peter, but she was suddenly paranoid that someone was watching her every move. She had a feeling that this was it, the moment that Charlotte would confront her for having an affair with her husband. She felt slightly nauseated but not as terrified as she thought she’d feel.

What can she do to me?
Dale wondered.

She wished she’d talked to her parents earlier in the day. She didn’t want to lie to them about the trip, so she had avoided her mother’s call.
Better that they find out I went to Afghanistan after I’m back home safely,
she’d decided. Dale’s mind was spinning from one anxious thought to the next. She tried to take deep breaths.

Suddenly, an announcement from the car’s radio system jolted her back to the moment. “Wayfarer departing residence. Wayfarer arriving Diplomatic Room.”

The agent started the car’s engine.

“Here we go,” he said to her.

Charlotte

Thanks for waiting for me to change. I wanted to thank you for coming tonight, Peter. I know how much you loathe press dinners, and I had no idea that Ralph had called you. I would have let you off the hook if I’d known,” Charlotte said as they stood in the Diplomatic Room, where presidents usually greeted visiting dignitaries, not estranged husbands.

“It was my pleasure. By the way, you were hilarious tonight,” Peter said.

“I had good material.”

“You delivered it like a pro,” he said.

“Thanks. Listen, I didn’t tell the kids about the trip. Penelope worries so much, I usually call her when I’m on my way back, but please tell them this is the last time I’ll sneak off without telling them where I’m going.”

“Don’t worry about the kids. I’ll go see them tomorrow.”

“They’ll love that,” Charlotte said.

“Take care of yourself over there, Charlotte. Don’t let Roger drag you into any caves or anything,” Peter warned.

“Of course not. He’s on a short leash these days anyway. Stephanie almost didn’t let him come.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s going to be there,” Peter said.

Charlotte smiled and took a breath. “Dale Smith is coming with us for the first time,” she said. She wasn’t even sure why she said it.