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.
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.