Balance of Power

    There was a moment's silence, and then Chad looked at Kerry directly. "I've thought about our dinner a thousand times. So, yes, what you say is true. Because now I know what happened, and wish I'd never come.

    "But you didn't know Kyle's secret. I did. You simply did what presidents do—play to win."

    For an instant, Kerry thought of his and Lara's secret, their wish to believe that they somehow could avoid the humiliation, and worse, which had happened to so many others. No doubt the man across from him had once believed the same.

    "It's far too high a price," Kerry said, "for winning."

    Chad's smile was faint and bitter. "And yet we come here, knowing the rules: that our enemies don't simply want to beat us, but destroy us. That anyone close to us is fair game for a media which has no limits. We know that, and still we enter politics." Chad shook his head in wonderment and, it seemed to Kerry, self-disgust. "Some even want to be President. So what does that say about us, Mr. President?"

    Kerry shrugged. "A lot of things, I expect. None of which justifies a culture which sees us not as fallible humans, doing our best in a complex world, but as targets of opportunity, accountable for every private mistake we ever made. Or which saw Kyle not as a lovely young woman, but as a pawn to use against you."

    "Maggots." Chad's voice was quiet with contempt. "All that breastbeating in the media. We'll see how much this town has learned from Kyle's death. If anything." He paused, seeming to redirect his thoughts through a sheer act of will, and then summoned a smile, which, while brief, appeared genuine. "Anyhow, I wish you and Lara all the happiness you deserve. Or, at least, can steal."

    Kerry considered Chad across the table. "We have our hopes," he said at length. "Which brings me to what I wanted to ask.

    "This comes with a lot of caveats. I know my timing's lousy. I know that being my friend makes you no friends among those who already think you're soft on liberals. But Lara and I hope that you and Allie will come to our wedding."

    Chad looked honestly amused. "Attend a President's wedding? Is that what passes for courage these days?"

    "Perhaps not in itself. But being in our wedding may." Though Kerry smiled, his eyes were serious. "Before Kyle's death, I'd have asked you without thinking. And there's no reason, on my part, to feel any differently."

    Chad looked away, his thoughts unfathomable. Then, reaching across the table, he rested one hand on the sleeve of Kerry's suit coat. "We've been friends for thirteen years, twelve before you had this job. For most of that time you were stuck in an unhappy marriage—you never said that, I just knew. But now you've found this terrific woman. No matter what's happened, I'm happy for you. I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world."

    For that moment, Kerry felt the shackles of the Presidency fall away, and he and Chad were young senators again, trusted friends amidst the tangle of ego and ambition which was the Senate. He could barely bring himself to speak.

    Blessedly, he did not have to. As they had planned, Lara appeared at the entry to the dining room, looking from Chad to her fiancé.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked.

    At once Chad smiled, and stood. "You are," he answered, "just in time."

    Lara crossed the room, taking his hand. "For me, too," she told him. "I just finished a meeting with Connie Coulter and Francesca Thibault. Connie had some numbers on which of the networks promises the biggest ratings for a prewedding interview; Francesca is picking an undisclosed location for us to audition wedding gowns in secrecy. I feel utterly ridiculous."

    "You aren't," Chad assured her. "Just everyone else."

    "Including Chad," Kerry interrupted with a smile. "He's agreed to take a leading role in this extravaganza."

    As Kerry watched, Lara embraced Chad Palmer and then, on tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek. "You don't know what this means to Kerry. And to me."

    Smiling, Chad gazed down at her. "Me, too," he answered.

* * *

    Convoyed through sun-baked streets by the Secret Service and police on motorcycles, Kerry's limousine approached the White House, returning from a mid-morning visit to See Forever, a pioneer charter school for at-risk teens. On a secure telephone, he talked with Marcia Harding.

    "We're looking at a bail motion," Harding told him. "Bowden's got a public defender. We'll bring additional charges, of course, and he'll get a lecture from the Court. But usually the judge will kick him loose."

    "What if you oppose bail?"

    "We could, but that would be unusual. Another problem's Bowden's lawyer. He knows Joan is Lara Costello's sister—if we come down on his client, he's likely to complain of prejudicial treatment, and splash this all over the papers. Bottom line we probably lose, and Joan's tomorrow's headline."

    "What if Bowden does this again?"

    "Then it's jail, I'm pretty sure."

    Kerry felt his frustration boil over. "Assuming it's not too late. This guy could kidnap Marie, or do far worse to Joan."