For June, it was movie night with her buddy Douglas Lee, and even as the presidential motorcade was wending its way back to the White House, she and Doug were crashed on the couch in her sitting room, snacking on popcorn that the kitchen staff had liberally doused with mayonnaise and asiago cheese as the final credits rolled on a silly romantic comedy on June’s massive flat-panel TV.

Doug grinned. “That was a fun little flick.”

“Yeah. I was surprised it was so good,” June replied. “I mean, the previews made it look cute, but it actually had some meat, didn’t it?”

Doug yawned and stretched. “It sure did. I really appreciate you letting me up here to watch it. Now I don’t have to wait for it to come out on DVD.”

“Isn’t it still in the theatres?” June took a sip from her chardonnay.

“It is, but I’d have to go to some other city to watch it. If I tried to go see a chick flick like that in Manhattan, I’d be bombarded by clients. Or women who want to be my clients.”

June laughed.

Doug shrugged. “The problem is, I’m trying to slow business down.”

“What?”

“I’m thinking about getting out of the hair and make-up biz, or at least, just do it for special occasions or something. May I?” Doug picked up the wine bottle and his glass.

“Help yourself.” June nibbled on a popcorn kernel. “But why?”

“I’m bored.” Doug finished pouring his wine and handed the bottle to June. “I mean, it’s still fun to do a really great cut or get the perfect style or whatever. It’s just that last week, I was going over the finances with my accountant and I realized he was more interesting than ninety-percent of the women I do. And my accountant is not that interesting a guy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have brought you down if I’d known.”

Doug waved her off. “No. That what’s-her-name…”

“Sharon.” June poured out the rest of the bottle into her glass without thinking about it.

“Sharon. She was great. And your other friend, Karen? I’d love to work on her. She was hysterical. It’s all the spoiled rich dames with more money than taste. And the models.” Doug rolled his eyes. “I still love doing the shows. You can really do some creative stuff. But if I have to listen to another vapid little twit blathering on about nothing.” He shuddered.

June put the popcorn bowl aside. “I guess they can be a bit much. During a show, I’m not really paying attention. So, what are you going to do instead?”

“I don’t know yet,” Doug grinned. “The hard part is going to be getting my client list down. It seems as though as soon as I tell someone I’m dropping her, she throws ridiculous amounts of money at me to keep her on. And the more I insist I don’t want it, the more she throws. You get a couple offers for a hundred thousand dollars a hair cut, and that’s pretty hard to turn down.”

“Yowza. You must be sitting pretty.”

“Pretty enough that I can pretty much do what I want from here on in.”

June’s hand accidentally landed on Doug’s. He flinched. June pulled her hand away as she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Doug shrugged. “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I gotta get over this touching thing. It’s time. It may be why I want to get away from New York. But I’m gonna do it.”

June’s heart thudded as he slowly took her hand in his.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked, not at all sure if she was.

“Yeah. I think I am.” Doug smiled at her. “I’ve racked up a couple breakthroughs lately and my therapist said I should try extending myself a little.”

“Oh. That’s great.” Feeling guilty, June looked down at the bowl. “We’ve still got a full bowl of popcorn.”

“Yeah.” Doug laughed. “At least, it wouldn’t take us both a full week to eat that much.”

June grinned back. “We did put a decent dent in this. The problem is, I’m getting full.”

“Me, too.” Doug took a small handful and began nibbling at it. “Say, June, how would you feel if I moved down here to Washington?”

“What?”

“I’d keep my shop in Manhattan and come up for the shows. But the business can pretty much run itself. And maybe I can do some good here. Maybe put an end to helmet hair.”

June laughed. “That won’t happen.” She looked him over. “You’re not thinking of moving down because of me, are you?”

“Yes and no.” Doug grimaced. “I want to get out of New York because I need to and I’m thinking about here because you’re here. At least, I’d have one friend.”

“You’ve got friends in L.A.”

Doug shook his head. “If I can’t handle models and rich bitches, how far do you think I’d get with the Hollywood crowd?”

“Point taken.” June shrugged. “But do you really want to be a Washington dilletante?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Doug sighed. “I’ve been doing hair since I was eighteen and helping my mom out at the shows since I was five.”

“You got a business degree in there.”

“Yeah. To run my shop and all the other things that were coming along because of that.” Doug shook his head. “It’s time I broadened myself, explored other passions. Who knows? Maybe I want to go back to hair. Maybe I’ll just be a dilletante early retiree. Don’t know yet. But the only way I’ll be able to find out is if I get away from New York for a while. So, do you mind if I hang out down here?”

“No. I’d love it.” June smiled.

IM Session

Gloryhg: Hi.

Swheatly531: Hi.

Gloryhg: Thought I’d check in. Thanks for giving me your personal address.

Swheatly531: You gave me yours. What’s WLF?

Gloryhg: Worth Living For. To die for is too negative. I had a good time tonight.

Swheatly531: For working, it wasn’t bad.

Gloryhg: I may have overstepped a boundary.

Swheatly531: When? Oh, the kiss.

Gloryhg: I’m told I do that sometimes. Overstep, I mean.

Swheatly531: Oh.

Gloryhg: You okay with it?

Gloryhg: You there?

Swheatly531: Yeah. Just thinking it over.

Gloryhg: <<sigh>> Great. Am I looking at a harassment suit?

Swheatly531: Maybe. Probably not. I hope you’re not thinking I’m ducking comment because you’re the boss.

Gloryhg: Well, that you might does worry me. I mean, one of the reasons I hired you in the first place was because I was confident you’d tell me what you thought regardless of what I might think.

Swheatly531: I just don’t know what I think right now. The boss part is a little awkward. But it’s more the whole dating thing, in general. It’s not a good time for that, you know.

Gloryhg: I know.

Swheatly531: BTW, Gloryhg???

Gloryhg: An old nickname from my college days. The Coop again. Loved poking fun at my ambitions. I got this address years and years ago and mostly forgot about it until the other one went public last summer.

Swheatly531: Well, gotta go. Want to finish some reading before getting to bed. See you tomorrow.

Gloryhg: See you tomorrow.

For Sharon, the upcoming do at the embassy was turning into more trouble than it was worth, in her opinion. Late Tuesday afternoon, June called her upstairs to the studio for a final fitting of the new dress, which Sharon only endured because she was able to keep reading emails on her Blackberry. Then there was the briefing with the President on Wednesday, not to mention coordinating with the State Department on several trips coming up in the next few months. Not to mention all the other things going on in the world that she had to stay on top of.

So Sharon felt no little irritation when June called her to the media prep room at five p.m. Wednesday to get ready for the embassy party.

“The party doesn’t start ’til seven, and we don’t want to be there before seven-thirty,” Sharon complained. “I don’t need two hours to get dressed.”

“Douglas Lee is going to do your hair and make up,” June explained. “All the other dates get done up. You should, too.”

“I can get done up in my office,” Sharon grumbled. “I don’t need fancy hair and make up.”

“Yes, you do. Now, come on. Even Paris Hilton can’t get Douglas Lee to do her hair.” June gently led Sharon from the office.

Lee, who was stick thin with a dark ring around his shaved head, was sympathetic to Sharon’s complaints and only stopped her from reading e-mail when he absolutely had to. Sharon, when she saw her hair curled and piled on top of her head and the make up job, had to concede that Lee had done a terrific job. She could only hope that Mark wouldn’t notice.

But, of course, Mark did. Fortunately, when he came to pick her up at her office, he saw her first from the hallway. If she had been lovely before in business wear, she was devastating all dressed up to go out. Mark took a deep calming breath before rapping at the office door. Even better, she seemed preoccupied.

“Looks like we might be in for a bumpy evening,” she said, standing then picking up a dark burgundy cloak that matched her mauve lace dress. “It just came over from State that Qui Cho and buddies from the Taiwan mission picked up invites for the party tonight.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Well, let’s hope Dan’s there.”

“He should be,” Sharon glared at the flat red leather purse June had given her to carry. It was too small for much besides her ever-present Blackberry, an ID case and a lipstick. “I’ve got some notes so I can brief you in the car. Have you got your iPhone and do you want me buzzing you?”

“Of course. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sharon smiled weakly. “I serve at the pleasure of the President.”

Mark smiled and offered his arm, although inwardly, he winced.

As the presidential limo arrived at the party, he got out first, spotted where the press cameras were and put himself between them and Sharon as he helped her out. The photographers shouted out, “Mr. President, Mr. President,” loudly and over and over again, but Mark ignored them as he walked Sharon into the embassy.

Beyond that, it was a pretty normal party, except that after going through the receiving line, Sharon and Mark separated pretty quickly. They had planned it that way, to allow Mark to work the room and Sharon to observe and send instant messages to him as she spotted various people who might want to talk to him. She also chatted with various dignitaries, stopping a couple times as Mark sent her a message, requesting more information than he could get from his iPhone while talking to someone.

But the third buzz puzzled her. First off, it came from Gloryhg. Then secondly, there was the message, itself: “Buffet’s got some seriously good sweet kimchee at the end. And the bulgogi is WLF!”

As she looked up, she realized that Mark was looking at her from the other end of the room. He winked and nodded at the buffet. Sharon wasn’t sure what WLF meant, but the bulgogi was very good, as was the sweet kimchee.

It was past nine when Mark nodded again and they said their good-byes. As they left the embassy, the photogs and others were waiting along the path from the door to the limo. Mark paused long enough to answer a few questions.

“Who’s your date tonight?” someone hollered.

“My world affairs advisor, Sharon Wheatly,” Mark answered, grinning.

“Miss Wheatly,” someone else hollered from the crowd. “Who are you wearing tonight?”

“What?” Sharon backed away as she felt her Blackberry buzz. “Excuse me for a second.”

Sure enough, there was a message from Gen Flowers. Sharon glanced around and Gen was near the car, smiling. The message answered the reporter’s question.

“Oh, my dress,” Sharon replied. “It’s an original from Ms. Jerguessen’s private collection.”

“Please keep in mind,” Mark interjected, “that Ms. Wheatly isn’t just my date. She’s here as part of the team, and has put in a full night of work.”

“Mr. President, can you tell us about your objectives with the South Koreans?” another reporter bellowed above the other hollers.

Mark went on to answer questions amid the flashes from the cameras, while Sharon smiled softly and stepped back. Unfortunately, someone else wanted to know who had done her make up and hair and Sharon couldn’t answer.

“He’s a friend of the president’s sister,” she said. “I don’t recall his name. I was finalizing the research for tonight at the time.”

“Ms. Wheatly, why mauve?” a reporter bellowed.

“I’m not answering questions about my dress.” Sharon answered and stepped back toward the limo. “This evening was about building our foreign relations, and that’s where my focus is, thank you very much.”

“And I think that will do it for tonight,” added Mark, stepping up and taking Sharon’s arm. “Thanks, everyone.”

And with that, he led Sharon to the limo and helped her in. Once the door was shut, Mark leaned back and laughed.

“Well,” he said. “Turns out you’re quite the media pro, after all.”

Sharon made a face. “Just because I can handle it doesn’t mean I want to.”

“Oh, come on. You had fun nailing them on the make-up questions.”

“No.” Sharon sighed. “Maybe a little. It’s just kinda ridiculous that I’m here as your aide and all they want to know is what lip gloss I’m using.”

“Well, you are my date.”

“As if that makes any difference. I was here to work as much as you were.”

“Well, you pulled it off.” Mark grinned and nudged her. “Looks like you had fun doing it, too.”

Sharon winced again. “Not really.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“No.”

Mark looked at her, puzzled. “No? That doesn’t make sense. I’ve been with women who really hate the attention and they get all stiff and you didn’t. In fact, you’re more like somebody who likes the attention.”

Sharon grimaced. “I don’t. I mean…” She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Mark softened. “How?”

“It’s…” Sharon shrugged as she struggled to find the right words. “Okay. This is just between the two of us, right?”

“Sure.”

“It’s not that I don’t like the attention. I’ve been getting it most of my life, and it could be a lot worse. It’s just….” Sharon swallowed. “I just feel so shallow. I hate that about myself. It’s like I’m lying or something. I don’t want to be obsessed with my looks or stuff like that, but that’s why people look at me. That’s not what I’m about. I’m about my brains and who I am as a person. But, yeah, it’s kinda cool that people think I’m good-looking.”

Mark laughed. “That doesn’t make you shallow.”

“Unless all the girls you grew up with were that shallow and all into who photographed them and they didn’t count as people unless they ended up in this tabloid or that.” Sharon shuddered. “I thought it was stupid then and I still think it’s stupid. And I hate it when I get caught up in it.”

“Ah. I hear you. There’s no question you can get pretty caught up in it all.” Mark chuckled. “But I think the fact that you hate getting caught up is a pretty good sign that you’re not going to.”

Sharon sighed. “I’d rather not deal with it in the first place. Anyway, you wanted to compare notes?”

Mark nodded, smiling but wishing they were talking about anything but work. Sharon went over some of the information she’d gathered from various folks and Mark listened dutifully. When they got to Sharon’s townhouse, Mark walked her in and shut the front door.

“It’s a little late, but I can pull some dinner together,” she said.

“No, I’m pretty well stuffed from the party.” Mark paused. “And I’ve got to get back. Riff’s already annoyed that I came in with you.”

“Then why…”

“I just wanted to say thank you and good night, like a good date.”

“Oh.”

“I know we were working, but, well…”

Mark bent and kissed her mouth. Sharon lost her breath and longed both to wrap her arms around him and not let go and she longed to shove him away. And it was still over too soon.

“Good night,” Mark said and opened the door.

“Good night,” Sharon whispered. She closed the door behind him still trying to savor the feel of his lips on hers.

Mark bounded down the stoop, hoping that this working date thing might be working for him.

Tuesday, Mark entered the meeting room for the Advisory Board meeting and knew immediately that something was up. It wasn’t obvious. The group stood and chanted, as usual. But as Mark sat down the rest of the group didn’t. Instead, Augie blew a note on a pitch pipe and the group sang a chorus of When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.

Mark applauded slowly at the end of the tune.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Today is St. Patrick’s Day,” Coop answered. “The Irish are a people with a great love of song and storytelling.”

Sharon grimaced. “Coop, you are aware that was not a real Irish tune.”

“It was written by a couple Jewish guys,” Tanks said.

“It’s not like any of you are Irish,” Coop said.

“And you are?” Ed-man asked, even though he should have known better.

“Full one-quarter,” Coop replied, grinning. “My paternal grandfather was a son of the sod. Given the way Grandma talked about him, it may even have been consensual.”

“Be that as it may,” Mark interrupted. “Do any of you delinquents have a report to present?”

The meeting fell to order, but Coop was quite taken with the success of the venture and continued lobbying for a second performance.

Coop also had another announcement for the end of the meeting.

“Our esteemed boss will be joining us for lunch,” he said.

The group applauded severally, and Mark acknowledged the tribute.

“Where are we going?” Whitey asked.

“You mean who did you con into letting us in?” Ed-man added.

“Believe it or not, the National Press Club.”

The others groaned loudly.

Coop waved them down. “There will be no interviews and we have a semi-private room. And Augie had nothing to do with it besides making the suggestion. They’re just being decent. Now, if some of those other clubs get wind of it, maybe they’ll decide to stop being so snooty and let us in, as well.”

The group decided to ride in the Presidential limo for the fun of it. It was Sharon’s first time in the car and she tried not to gulp when she realized she’d be riding in it again the next night for her “date” to the South Korean embassy.

The lunch, itself, was fun and relaxing. The food was pretty good, and while Mark initially got a few stares, by and large, the group was ignored. Until the end of the lunch. Mark hurried back to the White House, and with him went Ed-man, Coop and Whitey. Sharon, Tanks and Augie decided to take the Metro back, since Tanks had to find a deli so she could make sandwiches for one of her daughters’ school event the next day and Augie knew where one was and Sharon wanted to know where it was, as well.

But Augie got side-tracked by a former colleague in the bar. Sharon and Karen offered to wait for him, and while they were waited near the door, Karen nudged Sharon.

“You’re right,” Karen said with a wicked grin. “People do look at you a lot.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “I told you.”

“At least some of the guys are cute.”

“Unfortunately, they’re not the ones who try to pick me up.”

At the other end of the bar, a reporter in a tan corduroy jacket, dark plaid shirt and navy blue tie was chatting with his friend with one eye firmly on Sharon.

“So, who’s going to try?” Karen teased. “That geek in the back?”

“Welcome to my nightmare.”

As if in response, the reporter got up and headed toward the door of the bar. However, he was reaching inside his jacket pocket and actually left from the other door.

Behind her, in the foyer, Sharon could hear him talking to someone in German. Exceptionally fluent German. Karen glanced back into the foyer.

“He’s on the phone,” she said.

“Talking to somebody about getting them some tortillas,” Sharon said.

“Tortillas?”

Sharon shrugged. “Mexican food is getting more popular in Europe, but it’s still pretty hard to find the good stuff.”

Augie chose that moment to come back. “Let’s get out of here.”

The women turned as the reporter in the foyer snapped his phone shut. Augie, however, got pulled back into the bar. The reporter grinned as he saw the women.

“Ladies,” he said in a natural American accent. “Let me guess, Dr. Karen Tanaka and Ms. Sharon Wheatly?”

Karen grinned. “You got it in one. Where’d you learn to speak German like that?”

“Dad was in the Air Force and stationed there, then took a civilian job there when I was a kid.” The reporter shrugged. “I basically grew up in Ramstein.”

“And you are?” Karen asked.

“Max Epstein, at your service.” He bowed, but with one eye on Sharon.

He addressed her in German, Sharon replied somewhat frostily and then Augie came up and glared at Epstein.

“Max, I see you’ve met my colleagues.”

“It appears I have, Gus. Good to see you again.” Max smiled and left.

“So what did you guys say?” Karen asked as they left the building.

“He was hitting on me,” Sharon grumbled.

“I can imagine,” Augie sighed.

Sharon frowned. “Have to give him points. He made an obscure reference to some German poetry. I was lucky I knew the poem.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too excited.” Augie glared back at the club for a second. “Max is a darned good reporter, but he’s got a bad reputation with women. And in a couple cases, I know how bad.”

Karen giggled. “So we stand warned.”

“I already was,” Sharon said. “He’s the one that does that Capitol Cues column, right?”

“Yeah,” said Augie.

Sharon nodded. “Then he’s the one. He hit on my brother’s girlfriend a year or so back and seriously ticked both her and my brother off.”

“Good,” said Augie with decided finality.

Sharon and Karen looked at each other, but the truth was, there really wasn’t anything more to be said on the matter.

Max, for his part, had returned to his office and was already dialing his phone and doing a Google. It hadn’t taken much mulling over. He wasn’t sure exactly where his research on Sharon Wheatly would lead, but at the very least, she’d make one very good story.

She was supposed to be accompanying the President to the South Korean Embassy cocktail party that next night. Max grinned. An e-mail to his buddy on the International desk and the invite to the party was as good as in his hands.

In New York city, Michael Wheatly sat in the tiny music room in his apartment, feeling a little lost and not quite sure what to do about it. In the two months since he and Inez had been living together, there had been considerable rockiness. The fights had been intense – and loud – but not so serious as to break them up. If anything, Inez said she’d expected them, part of the whole learning to live together process.

Still, Michael felt uncomfortable. It was true that his ex-wife had been more likely to avoid confrontations during the four years they were married. But the fights toward the end, those had been loud and ugly. Michael played his and Inez’ latest fight back through his mind, trying to find something different.

He played a few notes on the mini-grand piano in front of him and debated writing them down on the sheet music in front of him. It was about that time that he caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. Inez must have come home. He’d been concentrating pretty intensely on his latest composition and Inez knew better than to knock when the music room door was closed. Michael felt a pang of guilt, looked at the music and decided he’d played out this latest bit of inspiration.

Inez was in the living room, smoking and looking out the apartment window without seeing anything.

“Are you home early or did I lose track of time again?” Michael asked softly.

Inez turned and snubbed out her cigarette. “Oh. I don’t know. What time is it?”

Michael looked around the living room but there were no clocks visible. There was a clock on the DVD player, but that was closed in the cabinet below the TV. The kitchen boasted clocks on the microwave, the oven and the stereo unit under one of the shelves, but that was in the kitchen.

“It’s dark,” Michael observed. “Six-ish, maybe?”

“Sounds about right.” Inez pulled her mobile phone from her pants pocket. “Six-thirty-eight, actually. You want dinner?”

“I suppose. Are you all right?”

Inez shrugged listlessly. “So-so. Maria French came by the studio today. She wants to show my work at her gallery.”

“That’s terrific.” Michael paused. “Are you worried about having enough prints developed or something?”

“No. I’ve got plenty of pictures.” Inez looked over at him and smiled sadly. “I could take some new shots for the kids at play series, but I’ve got enough for Maria’s exhibit if I don’t get to it.”

“Then what’s bothering you? You don’t smoke inside here, usually.”

“I’ve gotta quit this lousy habit.” Inez dropped the pack of cigarettes onto the window sill.

“And…?” Michael waited.

Inez looked at him. “Mama called this afternoon. She wants me to come to dinner next Sunday.”

“If we’re free, why not?”

“She wants me. You were not included in the invite.” Inez began pacing. “My ex is going to be there.”

“So?”

“Mama doesn’t quite get it that Manuel left me. She wants us back together again. Even a bastard like Manuel is better than me being alone or living in sin with you.”

“I take Mama doesn’t quite get it that you’re the one who doesn’t want to get married just yet.”

Inez turned on him. “Now don’t start that with me, will you? I’m in no mood.”

“No kidding.” Michael flopped onto the couch.

Inez rolled her eyes. “And you’re still bugged about the fighting.”

“Yeah, I am.” Michael glared at her. “Sorry. I know better. I just- I don’t know. This just isn’t what I expected. I mean I didn’t expect it to be perfect and happily ever after.”

Inez rolled her eyes. “So what? It’s not all about you. If we’re going to make a go of this, you’d better get used to that idea and fast. I’ve got a real problem here. If you’re not willing to listen, then I can go elsewhere.”

“No.” Michael got up and went to her. “I’m sorry. I should be listening better. But it’s not like we can do anything about your family.”

“Like I don’t know that? It still hurts. It’s still making me crazy.”

“Then don’t let it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Inez groaned and went back to glaring out the window.

Michael came up behind. “Okay. It’s not easy. But what are you going to do? You’re not going to change them.”

“I know. I just wish they weren’t so down on you.” Inez coughed lightly. “Manuel called me today, also. Said he wants to get back together. I guess his little floozy lost her job.”

“I’m sorry, Inez.”

“You’re right. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Michael smiled softly. “Except not get back together with him.”

“Don’t even,” Inez growled, then softened. “It’s not going to happen. I just don’t want to have to deal with it, is all.”

“Then don’t. The next time Manuel calls, hang up on him. If your mother starts in, hang up. There’s a reason those buttons are on the phone.”

Inez leaned into him. “I know. We’ll see. This is my mother we’re talking about, remember.”

Michael sighed. “Point taken. It’ll be all right, Inez, mi amor. The most important thing is that we’re here together. The rest of the world can go to hell.”

“It can.” Inez smiled. “So what did you do all day?”

Michael grinned. “Sparrow Without Wings. You want to hear it?”

“Of course, amado.” Inez shook her head and chuckled.

It was always about Michael. But sometimes, that was a good thing.

Sharon found being draped on a tedious business, at best. And hard on the arms, which had to be held out from her side for a long time. June was sympathetic and didn’t fuss too much as Sharon shifted. The two were chatting pleasantly when there was a knock on the door and Mark suddenly entered.

“June, have you heard from Matt?” he asked, then stopped. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company.”

“I was helping Sharon paint her office,” June explained. “We’re waiting for the paint to dry so I can paint a faux chair rail. What’s up with Matt?”

“Just haven’t heard from him,” Mark said softly. “We can talk about it later.”

Suddenly serious, June looked up at him. “What happened?”

Mark glanced at Sharon. “Got a bounce back. His web address mail box is full.” He smiled weakly at Sharon. “Probably not paying attention. We’ll talk later.”

“For sure,” June replied as she went back to pinning in earnest.

Sharon silently sighed her relief as Mark left the studio. June hadn’t seemed to notice Sharon’s fluttering heartbeat. In fact, June seemed distracted and sad.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, finally.

“Yeah.” June stopped and sat back on her heels. “No. I’m worried.” She looked up at Sharon and went back to pinning. “Matt is our nephew. Our oldest brother’s kid. We, uh, don’t get on that well with Harold and Shawna.”

“I’ve heard there’s some coolness.”

“That would about describe it. They have three kids. Mark and I, well, we’ve tried to be there for them. It’s hard because we don’t want to undermine their parents.”

“But you don’t like their parents.”

“Their parents are pretty obnoxious.” June shook her head. “They’re into appearances and as long as you look good, nothing else matters. The two older girls, Tracy and DeeDee. They bought into it. Matt. He’s sixteen. He’s a lot like Mark. Real thoughtful and everything. Only Matt’s a lot more introverted than Mark.”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of kid who’d let his inbox get too full.”

June sighed. “He’s not. It’s Shawna. She’s… Controlling I guess is the way to put it. She wants Matt to hang with her idea of the right kind of kids. So she doesn’t let Matt connect with anybody she doesn’t approve of.”

“Including you and his uncle?”

“Especially us.” June jabbed a pin into the fabric with a particularly violent thrust. “It’s pretty amazing that she pulls it off, too. What with all the different ways kids have of communicating these days. But she’s got Matt totally under her thumb, not to mention control of his laptop and his cell phone. Has totally blocked all the addresses and numbers from folks she doesn’t like. And his school won’t let the kids use social networking sites or webmail. I suggested the public library, but apparently, they need a parent’s signature to let him on.”

“Can’t he borrow someone else’s laptop or phone?”

“There’s a little problem with that. Did you get an e-mail last summer with Mark’s private cell phone number and e-mail?”

“That was a hoax.”

“No, it wasn’t. One of Matt’s so-called friends figured out who he was e-mailing and calling.”

“Oh, no.”

“Matt’s gotten so paranoid, he’ll barely e-mail my dad or grandma. Which is probably the biggest problem.”

“Poor thing.” Sharon thought. “I wonder if there’s a way to set up a false personality, maybe with the right kind of avatar or something.”

“That you’d have to get past Mark and I don’t think you will. He’s dead set against undermining Matt’s parents.”

“But his mother is-”

“I know.” June picked up her scissors, gazing at Sharon thoughtfully, but as though she wasn’t seeing her. “I think Mark’s worried that if we give Shawna any real ammo, she’ll take it out on Matt.”

“That would make sense.” Sharon thought. “You know. I’ll have to think it through and do some checking, but I think I can arrange a work-around. Maybe if your brother gets worried enough, he won’t be as concerned about undermining.”

“I can only hope.”

June was done just before dinner time. Sharon declined to stay for the meal, not wanting to see Mark again.

The next morning, she was surprised to see the whole faux chair rail painted in. It was done in a complicated criss-cross pattern in orange and yellow with a dark gray background. Sharon wondered how long it took June to do it, and how much of June’s work had to do with her worry about her nephew. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Sharon could do about it at that moment, so she moved her new furniture in and hung the art work.

Author note:  As the comment on the post previous to this one noted – I haven’t been posting as often as I have planned.  I apologize.  Alas, I have been rather sick and trying to focus on building two other blogs, so that’s why posts on this one have been rather erratic.  I am endeavoring to do better.  Please be patient.  And a big thank you for even noticing.  It’s nice to know that somebody is reading this.

June swallowed. “Oh that. Yeah, I did. Listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, but I’ve got this little project going, trying to maybe prevent some of the rumor-mongering regarding my brother and eligible females.”

“You mean the dating pool?”

“Exactly.”

Sharon tried to get up. “Oh, no. Not interested. No way, no how.”

June flopped down next to her. “Sharon. Seriously. We need you. Dan Friedman wants you to pull embassy duty. It’s perfect. You won’t need all the extra briefing and you’ll know how to handle yourself better than anybody. Plus, the whole point of the dating pool is that you’re just friends.”

“I’m not sure I want to be friends,” Sharon complained. “For crying out loud, I work for the guy. He’s my boss. How would that look?”

“Exactly. You’re there for a reason. It’s not about romance, it’s about work.” June sat back triumphantly.

Sharon groaned softly.

June touched her arm. “Seriously, Sharon. You’re safer out in the open this way.”

Sharon felt a cold chill. Mark had said the same thing once.

“I don’t get it,” she said finally.

June sighed. “Let’s just say that there’s less room for rumors to get started when you’re openly associating with my brother.”

“But don’t photographers and news people show up at embassy events?”

“They do, but nobody cares. Look what happened with Carrie Martindale. The whole reason that went crazy is that she denied she knew him. If it’s obvious you have a good reason for being with him, no one is going to give a damn.”

Sharon winced.

June held her arm. “Look, I get it about not wanting to be looked at and your privacy and all. It’s just one of those paradox things that being out in public with Mark is the best way to be ignored. Trust me, it’s the secret romance that they’re all looking for. And we do need you, Sharon. Mark’s whole thing is repairing our foreign relations. We need someone who can help him with that, not someone who might say something stupid out of ignorance.”

Sharon sighed. “There’s the trump card. Damn.”

“It’ll be public knowledge that I’m the one arranging Mark’s dates. That’ll make it even harder for any rumors to gain ground.”

“I suppose. I guess I’m in.”

June grinned. “Terrific. I’ll set you up for the Korean embassy bash on Wednesday.”

“So soon?” Sharon groaned.

“Hey, it’s repairing our foreign relations. Everyone’s been trying to get Mark to their embassy for the past three months. The South Koreans just came up in the rotation. Now, we’re talking cocktail length. From what Tanks says, all you’ve got is that blue number.”

Sharon flushed. “I’m afraid so. I do spend most of my time working, you know.”

June got up and sat down in front of the drafting table. “Blue is not a bad color for you, but I’m thinking mauve for some reason.”

“Why not?” Sharon said. “Something old-fashioned with puffed sleeves?”

June grimaced. “Yes and no. Tanks is about trends. That’s not a knock on her, by the way. That’s just who she is, and I love that about her. But you.” June looked her over again and Sharon could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “You are more about classic styling. But daring.” June clipped a sketch pad to the top of the drawing board and sharpened a pencil. “What do you love most about your body?”

“Me?” Sharon thought. “My eyes, I guess.”

“And hate?”

“Oh, lord, hips, thighs, you name it.”

June looked her over again. “Nah. Your hips aren’t bad at all. Not according to your measurements. Your shoulders are a tad narrow. I noticed you don’t tend to carry a shoulder bag.”

“Can’t keep anything up on my shoulders.”

“Thought so.” June started sketching. “That’s good. We can go with the off-shoulder look. Hm. Sash around the hips?”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

June grinned and beckoned Sharon over. “Well, look at this. What do you think?”

The dress on the sketch pad was straight, but with a sash that encircled the shoulders and another that encircled the hips, and long straight sleeves.

“It’s beautiful,” Sharon gasped.

“I’ve got it!” June jumped up and rummaged through one of the armoires. “Mauve silk lace. I knew I had a sample in here. That must have been what got me thinking mauve.” She presented the roll of fabric to Sharon. “You like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

June held the fabric up to Sharon’s face. “It’s perfect for your coloring. I think I’ve got a fitting leotard in here. Would you mind if I draped this on you? The paint should be dry by the time we’re done.”

“Draped?”

“It’s a way of making a pattern. I basically just pin and cut it right on you. It’s fast and it will fit like nothing you’ve ever owned before.”

“June, what are you talking about?”

“Indulging myself.” June sighed. “Look, Sharon, I don’t know if this will make sense to you or not, but I really love making clothes for other people. It’s why I do what I do. And one of my absolute favorite things to do is to make specific designs for specific people. It’s like that suit for Tanks. No way would that work on anybody else. And the glory of it was, I was able to get to know Tanks and to take what I knew about her and make that part of the design. And this dress is part of what I know about you. It is the most fun thing on the planet for me.”

“Okay,” Sharon said slowly. “I get that. It’s like when Sarah or Susan or my brother get going. It’s who they are.”

“It’s part of who I am.” June smiled softly. “I started in high school. My BFF. She was a little on the chunky side and hated that she couldn’t find clothes that fit and were cute. So I made stuff for her and it was so much fun. That’s why I went into clothing design. The only problem is that designing in a vacuum kinda sucks. I have to have somebody in mind when I’m designing or the result bites.”

“So will this dress end up in production?” Sharon grinned slyly.

“No! No way. This is yours and yours only.” June paused. “Something similar might end up in production.” She looked Sharon over again. “I could do a whole line around you. But nothing personal. I think Tanks is a little more profitable an inspiration. Clothes are about trends and she does that thing so well.”

Sharon laughed. “She does. You know, Al Eddington calls her Advisor Lite.”

June giggled. “And she’s one of the smartest people I know. Did you hear her on the gender ramifications of using sex to sell hamburgers?”

“You know how people talk about me having my finger on the pulse of the world. Tanks could run circles around me. I swear, she can spot what’s coming faster than Coop can. And what Coop doesn’t know, ain’t worth knowing.”

June nodded. “And I’ve known Coop for years. Come on. Let’s get you into a leotard.”

Later that afternoon, Sharon got a call from the security office. A large package had arrived for her. Sharon went down to confirm that she knew the sender and to give her permission for the package to be searched. The Secret Service man promised to have it put in her office by the next morning, even though it was Saturday.

June, for her part, had been debating how to talk to Sharon about her own little scheme. Saturday morning, she decided it was time and called Sharon’s cell phone.

“I hate to ask you to come in on the weekend,” June began.

“I’m already here,” Sharon said. “I’m redecorating my office this weekend.”

“Oh? Great. I’ll be down in just a bit.”

June could hear Sharon’s voice as she approached the office.

“No, I’m looking at them right now,” Sharon was saying. “They’re fabulous…. Seriously, Sarah, they’re perfect. The Outre-Meuse poster and the one from the Sparrow series…. No, darling, I know you’re not going to, but you should. It’s amazing. You could make some serious money on it….”

June peeked in the open door. Sharon turned and June spotted the headset parked on her ear. The floor in front of the desk was littered with cardboard and bubble wrap. Framed art leaned against any available vertical surface. Sharon was holding a framed oil painting. June could see a lot of pink and a long black slash through the middle, but none of the details.

“You’ve totally caught her. It’s perfect, Sarah. You’ve outdone yourself, sweetie,” Sharon continued. “I’m not overdoing it. You’re great, Sarah, and you know it. Now get over yourself, already…. I mean it. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it…. Thanks. I love you, too…. Bye.”

Chuckling, Sharon switched off the headset then smiled as she saw June.

“Hi!” Sharon said.

“Hi.” June looked at the different art works and smiled. “Wow. This is one hell of a collection.”

“That was my sister Sarah,” Sharon explained, the pride oozing from her. “She’s an artist. I asked her to pick some art for my office and this is what she sent.”

June looked at the oil in Sharon’s hand. “This is incredible. Where did she get it?”

“That’s her own work,” said Sharon. “It’s one of a series she did when our other sister, Susan, had her accident. Susan is – was a dancer. It’s hard to say now.” Sharon sniffed suddenly. “It’s still hard. It was only last summer.”

June reached out and held Sharon’s shoulder. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”

Sharon shrugged. “Thanks. I… It’s… Hell. I’m the last person to say where Suse should be now. But anyway, Sarah, God bless her, found a way to help us all deal with it.” Sharon lifted the painting again. “She did a whole series – Sparrow Without Wings, one for each of us. We always called Susan the Sparrow because she was always flitting all over the place. She’s kind of like my brother that way. Can’t stay still.”

“There were four of you?”

Sharon laughed. “Yeah. My older brother, then me, Susan, and Sarah. And Michael has two girls, Toby and Jodi. They live with their mom.”

“Heavens!” June looked again at the painting. “So what are you going to do with this one?”

Sharon shrugged. “Good question. I know I want to paint. I was thinking green, but then this…” She looked at the oil again.

June looked around the narrow office. “Actually, I think you’re on the right track. If you go with greens on the wall, it will not only complement the pink, but I think it will make the painting really pop. Let’s see, do I have any paint chips?”

“I have some here.” Sharon handed June the collection of small cards hooked together by a metal ring.

The two debated colors for several minutes, although Sharon ultimately went with June’s suggestion to use two shades of green, with a faux chair rail in gold and orange to divide the darker green on the bottom of the wall from the lighter green on top.

“Tell you what,” June said. “Why don’t you go get the paint while I get changed and get the walls prepped?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sharon said.

“I’m totally serious.” June grinned. “One of the worst parts of being the CEO, you never get to get your hands dirty. And I love painting. Seriously. I’ll call a car for you.”

“Uh…”

June had already grabbed Sharon’s desk phone and was dialing. “Don’t worry about it. Weekend stuff comes out of personal funds and we can prove it, if necessary. And I already helped Tanks put her office together.”

Thanks to the car, Sharon got back from the paint store in record time, happy to find that her furniture order had arrived and been inspected by the Secret Service. The new credenza, chair and shelving waited outside the office. June was inside, putting the last bits of masking tape over what would be the faux chair rail.

It was mid-afternoon by the time the two finished with the walls, but the chair rail would have to wait until the walls had dried.

“Let’s go on up to my studio and kick back for a while,” June said.

“Okay,” Sharon replied, not sure what June was suggesting.

June led her into an elevator and it was pretty clear as they got off that they were now in the private residence. Sharon gulped.

“Yeah, it’s still freaking me out,” June said, heading for a nearby stairway. “And I’m living here. The Lincoln bedroom is that way. Want to know where my brother’s room is?” “No!” Sharon yelped, then regretted it.

“He’s around here, someplace.” June shook her head. “You know how he keeps going on about not keeping people at work all hours? Total hypocrite. Even money, he’s in his private office right now, working away.”

“Couldn’t he be, like, watching a basketball game or something?” Sharon asked. “Probably, but he’s still working.” June chuckled. “He hasn’t got anything else to do. Come on.”

June’s studio was a large open room with lots of windows along the long wall. There were several antique armoires in between the various windows, a drafting table at one end, curtains along the far short wall and a still life set up in one corner with an easel containing the canvas in front of it. In front of the curtains was a square riser. Three different types of sewing machines were set up along another wall, along with a pressing station and several dressmaker’s dummies. Near the door was a desk with a laptop and next to that an overstuffed couch and a couple file cabinets.

“My sanctum sanctorum,” June said, with a wave of her hand. “You know how brothers are supposed to be despised?” She shook her head. “Kinda hard to despise a brother who can put something like this together.”

“He did this?”

“Not entirely. I had most of the input. But it was his idea to make sure I had it.”

Sharon shrugged, trying to stay cool. “He’s the right kind of brother, I guess.”

“Mostly.” June waved at the couch. “Have a seat.”

“You know, it suddenly dawns on me that you came down to my office this morning because you wanted to talk to me.” Sharon flopped down.

The next day, close to five p.m., Karen stopped by Sharon’s office on the way to her own.

“Wheaties, you want to-” She stopped. “Where are you going?”

Sharon finished putting on her coat. “Home. My brother and his girlfriend are coming over for dinner. In fact, I’ve got to hustle. He could already be there.”

“You have a brother in Washington?” Karen asked, following Sharon out of the office.

“He lives in New York, but he’s bringing my other guitar. I didn’t want to ship it or put it in checked baggage when I came out last January.”

“Okay. This is cool. You not only play a musical instrument, but you’re picky enough about it that you have more than one and you don’t want to check it.”

Sharon shook her head, smiling. “I’m not that good. This guitar is just special. My dad bought it for me for my tenth birthday. We were living in Italy, then, so he went to Spain and got it. I have another that travels with me.”

“Next time we’re in the PFZ, we’ll have to hear you play.”

“I’m not that good, Karen.” Sharon felt herself flushing. “I mostly play for myself. You know, stress reduction, like your crocheting.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Did you have to tell June that I do it? She loved the lace and is trying to talk me into doing a few yards for her. Says she’s got a great new design.”

“That was an awfully cute suit she made you. Can you believe she cranked it out in less than one week?”

“Her dressmaker did the sewing, but, boy, that’ll teach me to open my mouth in the dressing room when she’s around.” Karen rolled her eyes.

They were near the exit.

“Look, I gotta fly,” said Sharon. “I told him six, but with my brother you never know. He has no sense of time whatsoever. He shows up late. He shows up early. One of us would have shot him by now if it weren’t for his girlfriend.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” Karen went back to her office, smiling softly to herself. She hadn’t forgotten about Sharon’s guitar playing and was debating how to tell the others.

Augie had an electric piano in his office, which he played when he was thinking about something. Coop was always whistling something. Karen, herself, played the violin and piano. She wondered about the others. A little Advisory Panel band would make the dread Marian Jefferson happy. Stress reduction and team building. Better yet, the boss was out of the White House for a few days on a trip to Chicago. Karen barely pondered a moment more before sending Coop an e-mail.

Coop was a little too enthusiastic and Sharon groaned loudly when she saw his e-mail that night after Michael and Inez had left. It had been a pleasant visit, and just long enough. Sharon adored her older brother, but he had that antsy kind of energy that usually left her rather drained after a couple hours with him. Sharon, who also loved Inez like her other sisters, often asked her how she dealt with the antsiness. Inez usually just smiled and shrugged. That night had been no different.

As Sharon mulled over Coop’s e-mail, she decided that Coop and her brother had a lot in common. Nonetheless, the next morning, she brought her travel guitar with her to work and later to an unofficial lunch meeting in Augie’s office. Coop had come in just for the meeting and turned out to be a rather nice tenor. Ed-man did not come in, as he was not a singer, which surprised no one. Whitey did his singing as part of a Navajo group and he was also a drummer, which helped. Karen held a tune rather nicely, but it was hard to sing and play violin at the same time. Still, the lunch-time jam session had been fun. At least until Coop passed out the sheet music for a prank on the following Tuesday. Tanks loved the idea and convinced the others it was worth doing.

Rose Jerguessen was only moderately annoyed as she aimed her remote at the television and hit the off button. Mark had connected with someone early on in February – she could always tell. But it must have flamed out early and fast. Still, when Walker had found that photo of Mark and that Martindale bitch, it had seemed promising. Then when Martindale denied ever meeting Mark, that had been good. Rose thought she’d caught one, finally.

But, no. Mark looked indecently triumphant as he made that ridiculous fuss over having lunch with Martindale. Rose felt slapped in the face. It wasn’t as if she did not have his best interests at heart. She was his mother, for Heaven’s sakes. She deserved a little respect for that, if no other reason. But once again, Mark was not only snubbing her, but flaunting it, as well.

Rose sighed. If he wasn’t going to accept her protection and care, that was his choice. But she wasn’t going to let him ruin his life without her best effort, and if that meant making sure he kept his hands away from all but the right women, she’d do it.

IM Session -

Obstractin: Sis Gld ur online

Swheatly531: What up?

Obstractin: Mchl jst left sd 2 tell u he’ll brng ur geet tmrrw

Swheatly531: Sarah, will you please learn to use vowels?

Obstractin: Nt when Im thmbin it

Swheatly531: What???

Obstractin: Thumbing it Im on crackbrry

Swheatly531: Ah. I guess I’m just used to using all the letters on mine. Can’t chance a misunderstanding.

Obstractin: ur art in mail eta Frdy

Swheatly531: thanks

Not that the Martindale affair was that big a deal for Sharon directly. Outside of the U.S., the sexual antics of a sitting U.S. president, real or potential, were more a source of bemusement than anything, especially in those countries where it was well-known their leaders were not only cheating on their spouses but using government money to pay for their high-class call girls. That a young woman had lied about never meeting President Jerguessen barely caused any notice, which meant Sharon didn’t have to think about the issue much at all, beyond commiserating with Tanks and Augie and press secretary Jean Bouyer, who were dealing with all the fuss domestically.

For Martindale had already told reporters on Friday, before the President had made his statement about not commenting, that she had never met the man. She had always worked in the House of Representatives and had had limited contact with senators. Which she said again, Sunday morning, on one of the political talk shows, although Augie later said she should have known that something was up when she’d been asked on the show. Why have her there at all if she really didn’t know the president?

Because as soon as she affirmed she had never met President Jerguessen, she was asked to identify the people in the photo on the studio screen – a photo that clearly showed her and Mark Jerguessen shaking hands at a party of some sort. Flabbergasted, Martindale stammered that she had no clue where or when the photo had been taken and then made her second fatal error by suggesting that the show had somehow tampered with the shot to make it look as though she and the president had met.

So naturally, on Monday, everyone was talking about how if Martindale had lied about knowing the president and the two had obviously met, then how well did she really know him? Sharon found herself trying not to wonder the same thing, although there was a part of her that remembered that Mark had said that as far as he knew the two had never met. So unless someone had been doing some serious playing around with PhotoShop, the two obviously had.

It got around the White House very quickly that the boss was not happy. He kept his same schedule, sent around a memo reminding employees that they were not to comment either way on any rumored romances, but otherwise, kept to himself as much as possible. Jean said at the morning press briefing that they were working on the source of the photo, and it did not appear that anyone could identify when or where it had been taken. Which while Jean did not say so and flat out denied it when she was pressed, got many assuming she was implying that the photo was a fake.

What did help was that the next day, she was able to announce to the press that the photo had been identified.

“It was taken at an education lobby party about 15 months ago, just before the president announced his candidacy,” Jean said. “The president told me it was the usual for such affairs and he remembers talking with several people whose names he never got and would probably be surprised to find that he’d met them, as well. Nor is he surprised that Ms. Martindale did not remember the event, either. He was just a senator at that point and as she has pointed out, she worked with members of the House. The president would also like to point out that this sort of thing is exactly why he does not comment on potential relationships.”

Which fed the fire for another few days, although by the time Carrie Martindale showed up to the White House for a very public lunch with the President, the story was all but dead.

All but dead, June noted with some mild disgust as she perused a couple Washington society blogs. She was fairly sure her brother was not seeing anyone at the moment. Mark was beyond discreet, but June could usually tell. The funny thing was, it had looked like he was back in early February. June decided it had either fallen through or something else had triggered his “happy” look, as she called it. Either way, something had to be done about the gossip-mongering and she thought she knew what. The problem would be convincing Mark.

That Sunday, as Mark made their brunch, June laid out her idea. As she expected, Mark was less than enthused.

“What makes you think people won’t be placing bets on who wins my hand?” he grumbled as he chopped onions to go in what would become a corned-beef hash.

“Then the joke’s on them, isn’t it?” June replied. “I mean, honestly, Mark, half the reason the damn rumors get so much ground is that you don’t date anyone publicly. If you’ve got a whole group you’re dating, then it’s pretty obvious, these are just friendly relationships. What’s even better, is that I’ll be the one over-seeing who you go out with for what event, so there’ll be a lot less room for speculation.”

Mark grimaced. “Do you really want to take that on?”

“Honestly?”

“Oh, crud.” Mark shook his head with a rueful grin. “You’re just dying to, aren’t you?”

June giggled in spite of herself. “Damn skippy. I mean, I don’t want to mess with your love life. But it kinda would be fun to set you up. You could even set me up occasionally, if you want.”

“Hm.” Mark focused on finely dicing a potato. “That could even things up a little.”

“Could. And I don’t mind you floating the odd name or two, just between us. It’s not like I don’t know most of your friends.”

“True.” Mark thought as he turned the heat up on the cast iron skillet, then slid some white solid fat into it.

June grimaced. “Are you using lard again?”

“It’s the unadulterated stuff, without the poly-unsaturates and lard has less of the bad fat than butter. Besides, it’s the best thing to get this hash nice and crisp the way you like it. How about Mary Karpati?”

“She’s perfect.” June nodded. “If I can get her, Tish MacDonald?”

“Your BFF. So that’s what triggered this little idea.” Mark grinned shamelessly.

“What?”

“Hasn’t she been begging you to set me up with her for how long?”

June laughed. “More like how long ago. We were in high school when that happened. She’s gotten over you in a big way, although you’re okay as guys and politicians go. Think we can add Carrie Martindale to the list?”

Mark winced. “Conflict of interest.”

“You’re right. Karen Tanaka?”

“Has a boyfriend.”

“Sharon Wheatly?”

“Doubt you’ll get her to go for it.” Mark held his breath, hoping that June didn’t notice the flutter in his chest. “Besides, doesn’t look good dating a subordinate.”

June sighed. “Mark, the whole point is that you’re not really dating, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Let’s see. Who else?”

Mark left her to her musing.

Two days later, Daniel Friedman got June on the phone.

“I, uh, heard about your dating pool plan,” Daniel told her once the pleasantries were dispensed with.

“Yeah. You got someone for me?”

“I do. Only I’m thinking as a special interest date, for embassy soirees, etc. Sharon Wheatly.”

“Too perfect. But Mark said he’s concerned about what it would look like dating a subordinate.”

“She’d be there almost as his assistant and personal translator.”

“I suppose, but to tell you the truth, I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

“She’d be perfect and we won’t have to spend a lot of time briefing her. Plus, we won’t have to worry about her saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“Well, I’ll talk to her, but don’t get too excited, Daniel. She really doesn’t like the spotlight.”

“Let me know how it goes. Maybe I’ll talk to her, too.”

“Just do me a favor and wait for me to give you the heads up.”

June hung up, not sure what to do. The problem was, Sharon would be the perfect date for embassy and other events involving foreign dignitaries. But what she’d said about not liking being looked at, June understood and was reluctant to push Sharon. Not entirely reluctant. Mark clearly liked her, although June was pretty sure he was more interested in her as a friend.

June suddenly smiled. Friendship was all well and good. But there was something about Mark and Sharon that just seemed to feel right. Maybe what the two of them needed was a nice gentle shove in the other’s direction.