The shouts in the bar fell to a hush when President Foster started up again.
“DURING that same first phone call, Ms Diaz had enough lucidity, amazingly given what she’d gone through, to persuade me that we needed to throw her husband off guard, in case there was some back-up plan. She had thought long and hard about this during her trek down the mountain before she encountered the wolf. That is why we faked my asthma attack and created the uncertainty about my whereabouts. Ms Diaz,” he said turning toward her again and placing his hand to his heart, “I thank you… America thanks you.”
“HE’S bowing to her. He’s fuckin’ bowing!” It was Andy, still in a state of shock.
“Christ, Andy!” said Paul. “The woman saves the President by fingering her own husband. Doesn’t that deserve a fuckin’ bow?”
WHEN the congressional applause died down again, Foster explained that in the circumstances, he considered it was in America’s national interest to install a new Vice-President immediately, that in view of the circumstances the nation could not afford even a moment’s delay for the usual confirmation hearings. “And I can think of no better person than this fine woman. Right now, in this joint session of Congress, I formally nominate Isabel Rosa Diaz to the position of Vice-President of these United States of America. Ms Diaz, will you resign as Speaker and consent to my nomination?”
Everyone watching—in Congress, around the nation, even in Daisy’s Bar—could see that Isabel was as stunned as they were. Clearly, this wasn’t part of any script she’d agreed with Foster. A Democratic President nominating a Republican Vice-President was extraordinary.
Spencer’s pulse went haywire. Foster doing something as gracious as this? Volunteering it, no less? Not having it shoved down his throat?
Isabel gripped Davey’s shoulder and, leaning on him, stepped slowly to the President, everyone hanging for her words. When she was beside him, she gave a weak smile and said, “Mr President. I can think of no greater honour… no greater tribute to Mitchell Taylor… to this country… than serving under your Presidency. If the Congress wishes it, I will accept your nomination.”
Davey’s head was twisted up to watch for her decision, and once she’d given it, he squirmed out from under her arm to jump up and down. She edged down to give him a light hug. During the embrace, the boy cast a long look over her shoulder at his father, uncertain how to feel.
“Under Section Two of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment,” said the President, whose lawyering skills had come in handy, “I ask that both Houses of Congress here jointly assembled confirm that nomination immediately.”
Congress once again broke into applause and those who’d already sat down were rising back to their feet and cheering.
“Thank you, Mr President,” said Senator Mallord, with the gavel in hand. “Unusual though this may be, unique I suppose, I will take it that the two Houses have just voted; that Ms Isabel Rosa Diaz’s nomination has been confirmed by acclamation. Do I have any dissent from my ruling?” He looked around, allowing for the dissent he knew would not dare show its face. “Chief Justice? Please step forward to administer the oath of office.”
Once the formalities were over—they took only a few minutes—the President asked his new Vice-President to join him at the Clerk’s desk. They smiled and stood side by side during the applause and, on impulse, Foster grabbed her unsplinted arm, thrusting it high above their heads in victory. “The Vice-President!” he roared.
Isabel winced with the excruciating pain.
“The Vice-President!” Congress responded.
THE First Lady, Marilyn Foster, was alone watching her husband on TV from the Residence in the White House, their young children already snug in bed. She lifted the fine porcelain cup and sipped her tea calmly as Bobby waved his own and Isabel’s arm in the air. It was what she’d insisted on… what Bobby had no choice over, assuming he still wanted a wife and family to come home to. But it was only the first part of it.
“At the start of the campaign you promised me you wouldn’t fool around any more,” she’d reminded him while they were still on board Air Force One, but after the operation to remove the implanted Clip’n’Drip. “I warned you… Bobby, I told you… I’m not Hillary. And I won’t be, either. This is one lady who won’t hang around with the whole country snickering about who you’ve been fucking on the side. So, if you want me and the kids standing by you, the only way is if…”
AS President Foster lowered his arm and released Isabel’s, the smile fell from his face, revealing once again the gravity that had dominated the session. The First Lady knew what was going through his mind that second: “Is Marilyn bluffing? Do I really have to go through with this?”