ACT FOUR
INT. FIRST LADY'S OFFICE—FRIDAY AFTERNOON
"I hope you don't mind, Lou, but I thought it would be a good idea to move this meeting to my office. After all, if you're all discussing my taking a more active role in policy issues, I really should be present."
"No, ma'am," the White House Communications Director replied. The First Lady did notice, however, that Lou's smile seemed a little forced.
Maybe there was something in the water, Helen thought. For some reason, Annabeth had started humming that annoying Celine Dion song as soon as Lou arrived. As for Donna, she'd been uncharacteristically nervous ever since lunch. She'd left twice before Lou arrived, each time muttering about expecting an important phone call from Josh.
"I suppose we should get started," Helen said. "Exactly what is the problem, Lou?"
Lou cleared her throat. "Mrs. Santos," she said, "I want you to understand that no one in my office objects to your taking on an important issue like the HPV vaccine. It's just that we need to be kept in the loop."
"Lou doesn't want it to seem as though the East Wing and the West Wing are at odds," Annabeth explained. Her eyes twinkled as she added, "Otherwise, we'll slam right into that iceberg."
"What?" Helen asked.
"Nothing, ma'am," Lou said, with a pointed look in Annabeth's direction. "Your press secretary has an odd sense of humor, that's all."
"Well, I wish somebody would let me in on the joke."
"You see, Lou compared herself to the captain of the Titanic, and..." Annabeth's voice trailed off as Donna opened the door.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Mrs. Santos," she said. The tense body language Helen had noted earlier was gone. Her Chief of Staff was her normal, smiling self.
"Is everything okay?" Helen asked.
"It will be," Donna assured her. Taking a seat on the couch next to Lou, she asked, "Have you explained your concerns to the First Lady?"
Lou nodded. "It's important that our messages be coordinated," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair
off her forehead. "I admit that you guys beat us on the HPV issue, and you did a great job planning the event. But imagine how much stronger we'd both have been if we'd put your resources and ours together."
"I'm certainly in favor of a stronger message," Donna replied. "We just don't want our issues put on the back-burner when the Communications Department has other matters to deal with. Look, Lou, I understand your concerns. I worked in the White House for seven years. I've seen a few battles between the First Lady's office and the West Wing, and I don't want that happening during this administration."
"So what should we do?" Helen asked.
"I think we need someone to serve as a liaison between Lou's department and us," Donna suggested. "Annabeth seems like the perfect person to do that. She's worked in the Communications Office over there, plus she knows exactly what our message is. If Lou has any problems with our plans in the future, Annabeth can relay them to us. We'll work out any compromises from there."
"That seems like a reasonable solution to me," Helen replied. "Lou?"
"Fine," Lou agreed. "As long as she promises never to mention the Titanic again."
CUT TO:
"Four airports in one day." Sam shook his head in amazement. "Even you must be tired of them by now."
"I will admit that I want a hot shower and room service," Ainsley said.
Sam stepped off the curb and hailed a taxi, Ainsley close behind him. "Of course you'd mention room service." He grinned as he held the taxi door open for her.
She stepped into the cab, smiling back up at him. "Admit it, Sam. My appetite is one of my more appealing quirks."
Sam gave the driver the name of their hotel, then turned back to Ainsley. "It's hard to decide. You have so many quirks to choose from." He rubbed the back of his neck, which felt stiff after a long day of sitting in cramped airplane and walking through four airport concourses with three pieces of carry-on luggage.
"Did I thank you for carrying my luggage?"
"I was repaid in pretzels and Cinnabons. What more can a man ask for?"
Ainsley gave him what, from anyone else, would have been considered a suggestive look. But that was ridiculous, Sam thought. He and Ainsley were just old friends.
CUT TO:
INT. JOSH'S OFFICE
"I screwed up today, didn't I?" Josh asked as Donna walked into the room.
He'd been lying on the couch, ostensibly reading. Donna read the letters "USGS" on the cover before Josh tossed the book to the floor, where it landed face down. She took a seat on the edge of the sofa and cupped his cheek with her hand. "You're doing that thing where you brood for hours, aren't you?"
"I'm not brooding," he said defensively. "I'm pondering."
"And what are you pondering?" she asked softly.
"Whether he'll ever trust me the way President Bartlet trusted Leo."
"Josh." She leaned in and kissed him gently. "It's not the same situation. Leo and President Bartlet had decades of friendship before they ever got to the White House."
"And I've had almost two years with President Santos on the campaign trail, and he still doubts me."
"Do you think Jed Bartlet never disagreed with Leo? That they never fought over any issues? Just because we didn't see it..." She shrugged. "I guess all that proves is that they didn't believe in arguing in front of the children."
Josh sat up, running a hand through his hair in his characteristic gesture of frustration. "That's what it feels like. We were the children—you and me, CJ, Sam. Toby. And I'm not ready. I never thought I'd have to do this job without Leo here to guide me. The whole issue of Toby—he would have told me how to explain it months ago and make the President understand. Now, I've messed it up."
"Leo knew you'd be in this office," Donna pointed out. "He spent all those years preparing you for it. If he'd thought for one minute that you weren't ready, he would have told you during the campaign. As much as he loved you, he would never have let you come so far before you were ready." She patted his leg. "And if you don't believe me, you can always ask Toby's opinion. Now, come on," she said as she stood up. "We've got a dinner to go to, and it's impolite to keep the leader of the free world waiting."
INT. FIRST FAMILY'S RESIDENCE
It could have been worse, Helen Santos thought. At least she and Donna were talking. They'd said everything they could think of regarding the FDA announcement; they'd discussed the plans for the Couric interview; they'd recounted the story of their meeting with Lou. Their significant others, however, had done little more than grunt in reply.
Matt was clearly angry with Josh for some reason. Every time he glanced in Josh's direction, her husband grimaced as though recalling something unpleasant.
Donna, obviously, had some idea about what was going on between the two men. Helen noticed the looks passing between the couple, and she would have sworn that Donna had put her hand on Josh's leg under the table. A moment later, she thought she saw Josh reach down as though he were giving Donna's hand a quick squeeze.
Helen, determined to be the perfect hostess, tried to keep the conversation going. "I'm really glad we
decided to use the health center for the announcement," she said. She took a sip of iced tea. "I think it helped focus attention on the women whose lives are affected by cervical cancer."
Donna glanced at the President, obviously determined to make another attempt to bring him into the conversation.
"You would have been proud of her, sir," Donna said. "Mrs. Santos was completely in control of that stage."
"I'm sure I would have been," he said, then went back to eating his dessert. Helen considered kicking him under the table. If she hadn't been afraid that he'd yell and bring the Secret Service down on their heads, she might have tried it.
"It was Donna and Annabeth who deserve the credit," Helen said. "They spent dozens of hours arranging this thing. Not to mention all the time they put into helping me practice my delivery."
Neither Josh nor Matt said a word.
She swore to herself if at least one of the men didn't start talking soon, she'd resort to desperate measures. She wondered if there were any board games in the residence.
She was almost relieved when Matt got up to take a phone call.
"All right," she said once her husband left the room. "Will one of you please tell me what's going on here?"
Josh and Donna stared at one another guiltily.
"I warn you," Helen said, "I'm the mother of two small children. I have pictures. Albums and albums full of pictures. I'm not above making my guests go through every one of them. This can last for hours and hours. You may not make it home before dawn. Some people might call it blackmail; I prefer to think of it as a last-ditch effort to save a dying dinner party."
"It's nothing, ma'am," Josh said. "The President and I disagreed on something today."
"No kidding," Helen muttered.
Josh stared at his plate again. "What did you say these were again?" he asked.
"Pecan tarts." She was going to ask for details about the quarrel when her husband returned to the room.
For the first time that evening, Matt Santos spoke directly to Josh.
"Looks like you were right," he said.
TO BE CONTINUED