White House.
The door opened and the First Lady entered, smiling warmly as she closed the door quietly by leaning back against it. "Hello, Danny," she said almost demurely.
Powers rose. "Hello, Becky. It's been awhile."
"Too long." She crossed the room to him and took his hands. "Well, don't just stand there. Give me a kiss." They embraced briefly like fond cousins and Powers kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I remember when you used to really kiss me," she said teasingly.
"So do I, but you're a married woman now."
Becky laughed. Her eyes were slightly red as if she had been crying. And through the perfume Powers smelled cigarette smoke. That was peculiar, he thought, since Becky was de facto head of the national movement for a tobacco free America. The newspapers regularly reported no one was allowed to smoke in the White House.
The First Lady pulled around the matching leather chair in front of her desk so she was facing Powers then sat. "You're very handsome in your blue suit. You always were the best looking man I ever knew.”
“I blame it on my genes."
"I was sorry to hear about your wife. Gloria, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"And your son. What a tragedy. I only met them that one time but they were lovely. You made a wonderful family."
"Thank you. I miss them both."
"How are you? Mom said you'd moved back home after the fire and seemed out of sorts. You retired, didn't you?"
"Yes. I had 23 years in. After Gloria and Brian were killed I couldn't remain in St. Louis any longer and my heart wasn't in police work. So I went home. I'm living in the house my parents bought after they sold the garage. It's on Second Street."
"Mayberry."
"Excuse me?"
"That's what I call Shalom. Mayberry, R.F.D."
Powers smiled warmly. "It's not exactly Mayberry, but almost. Nothing much ever changes. Except for the mill closing, of course. I should be giving you condolences. I haven't seen you since your father passed away. I know how close you two were."
"Thanks. At least he lived long enough to see me in the White House. Imagine that. Little ol' Becky Gordon from Shalom, Missouri, First Lady." She grinned as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"According to the signs outside of town, Shalom is home to the 'World's First Lady.'”
Shalom, population 19,000, was located on the south bank of the Gasconade River between the Springfield and Salem Plateaus in rural southern Missouri. Since Richard Tufts' election to President and the elevation of the local former homecoming queen to First Lady two immense signs had been erected on the outskirts, proclaiming the community's pride in its native daughter.
Becky rose and moved behind her desk where she opened a drawer. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes then lit up. "A secret, okay?"
"Sure." Powers held a poker face.
"I know. I'm a hypocrite. I've quit a hundred times. I did real good there for a while but these last few months..."
"I can understand that. It took me three times to finally stop for good. You two have been under a lot of pressure lately."
Becky laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes heavenward. "You don't know the half of it." She smoked for a time, not looking directly at him, one arm crossed under her breasts supporting the elbow of the other. She put the cigarette out. "This is hard," she said finally as if she had rejected a dozen approaches in the last minute. "I have to tell you things I've never told anyone. Things that won't make me seem very nice I'm afraid."
"We're both adults."
"So I keep hearing." She gave him a strange look. "When I told you this morning that you couldn't tell anyone you had talked to me or that you were coming here, I said it was important. Did you do as I asked?"
"Yes."
"You paid cash for the ticket?"
"Yes.”
“I'll get money for you later so you don't use an ATM."
"Forget the money. I'm glad to see you. And be of help if that's what this is about."
She looked tentative. "It is. And you'll need to use more money so I'm not taking
Mary Ann Winkowski, Maureen Foley