“Greg and I are working on a series of interviews of women on the Hill. We want to figure out who's doing who, and when. We already have five women lined up. I think it'll be a good story.” Greg Morris was her co-anchor, a young black reporter from New York, who had worked with her for the past two years, and they were fond of each other, and loved working together.

“Don't you think you should do the story on your own? Why do you need Greg to do it with you?”

“It keeps things interesting,” she said coolly, “the male perspective.” She had her own ideas about the show, which often differed from her husband's, and sometimes she didn't like telling him too much about what she was doing. She didn't want him to interfere with her stories. Sometimes, it was a challenge being married to the head of the network.

“Did the First Lady talk to you last night about your being on her Commission on Violence Against Women?” Jack asked casually, as Maddy shook her head. She had heard vague rumors about the commission the First Lady was forming, but she hadn't mentioned it to Maddy.

“No, she didn't.”

“She will,” Jack said smoothly. “I told her I thought you'd love to be on it.”

“I would, if I have time. It depends how much of a commitment it involves.”

“I told her you'd do it,” Jack said bluntly. “It's good for your image.”

Maddy was silent for a moment, as she stared out the window. They were being driven to work by Jack's driver, he had been with Jack for years, and they both trusted him completely. “I'd like a chance to make that decision for myself,” she said quietly. “Why did you tell her I'd do it?” It made her feel like a kid when he did that. He was only eleven years older than she, but sometimes he treated her as though she were a child, and he the father.

“I told you. It will be good for you. Consider it an executive decision by the head of the network.” Like so many others. She hated it when he did that, and he knew it. It truly annoyed her. “Besides, you just said you'd like to.”

“If I have time. Let me decide that.” But they were at the network by then, and Charles was opening the car door for them. There was no time to pursue the conversation further. And Jack didn't look as though he intended to anyway. He had obviously made his mind up. He gave her a quick kiss as they said good-bye. He disappeared into his private elevator, and after passing through security and the metal detector, Maddy took the elevator up to the newsroom.

She had a glassed-in office there, a secretary and research assistant, and Greg Morris had a slightly smaller office very near her. He waved as he saw her walking swiftly into her office, and he came in with a mug of coffee in his hand a minute later.

“Good morning … or is it?” He looked her over carefully, and thought he detected something as she glanced at him. Though it was hard to see it unless you knew her well, inside she was seething. Maddy didn't like to get angry. In her past life, anger had meant danger, and she never forgot that.

“My husband just made an ‘executive decision.’” She glanced at Greg with unveiled annoyance. He was like a brother to her.

“Uh-oh. Am I getting fired?” He was teasing, his ratings were nearly as high as hers, but you were never entirely sure where you stood with Jack. He was capable of making sudden, seemingly irrational, nonnegotiable decisions. But as far as Greg knew, Jack liked him.

“Nothing that dramatic, thank you.” Maddy was quick to put his mind to rest. “He told the First Lady I'd be on her new Commission on Violence Against Women, without even asking me about it.”

“I thought you liked that kind of thing,” Greg said, sprawling in the chair across her desk from her, as she sat down primly in her seat.

“That's beside the point, Greg. I like to be asked. I'm a grown-up.”

“He probably figured you'd want to do it. You know how dumb men are. They forget to go through all the steps between A and Z, and just make assumptions.”

“He knows how much I hate that.” But they both also knew that Jack made a lot of decisions for her. It was the way things had always been between them. He said he knew what was best for her.

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but we just got word of another ‘executive decision’ he must have made yesterday. It just filtered down from Mount Olympus before you got here.” Greg looked less than pleased as he said it. He was a good-looking African-American man with a casual style, and long, graceful limbs. As a kid, he had wanted to be a dancer, but had wound up in news instead, and loved it.

“What are you talking about?” Maddy looked worried.

“He took a whole segment out of the show. Our political commentary on the seven-thirty.”

“He did what? Why? People love that. And we like to do it.”

“He wants more hard news on the seven-thirty They said it was a ratings-based decision. They want us to try it this way.”

“Why didn't he talk to us about it?”

“When does he ever ask us, Maddy? Come on, kiddo, you know him a lot better than I do. Jack Hunter makes his own decisions, without consultation from the on-air talent. That's hardly a news flash.”

“Shit.” She looked angry as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “That's nice. So no editorials at all now? That's just plain stupid.”

“I thought so too, but Father Knows Best. They said they might put it back in on the five o'clock if people complain about it. But not for the moment.”

“Great. Christ, you'd think he would have warned me.”

“The way he usually does, right, Pocahontas? Give me a break. Let's face it, we just work here.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She steamed silently about it for a minute and then got down to work with Greg, figuring out who they were going to interview first, among the list of Congresswomen they had already selected. It was nearly eleven before they finished, and Maddy went out to do some errands and grab a sandwich. She was back at her desk at one, working on the Congressional interviews again. She stayed at her desk all afternoon, and at four she walked into hair and makeup and met Greg there, and they chatted about the stories that had broken that afternoon. So far, there was nothing important.

“Have you ripped Jack's head off yet about our editorials?” He grinned at her.

“No, but I will later, when I see him.” She never saw him in the course of the day, although they usually left work together, unless he had somewhere to go after work that didn't include her, and then she went home alone, and waited for him.

The five o'clock news went well, and she and Greg hung out and talked, as they always did, while waiting to go back on at seven-thirty At eight o'clock they were finished, and Jack appeared as she came off the set. She said goodnight to Greg, took off her mike, picked up her handbag, and left with Jack a minute later. They had promised to drop by at a cocktail party in Georgetown.

“What the hell happened to our editorials?” she asked him as they sped toward Georgetown.

“The ratings showed that people were tired of them.”

“Bullshit, Jack, they love them.”

“That's not what we heard,” he said firmly, unmoved by her comment.

“Why didn't you say something to me about it this morning?” She still looked annoyed as she talked about it.

“It had to go through channels.”

“You never even asked me. It would have been nice to know. I think you really made the wrong decision on that one.”

“Let's see what the ratings tell us.” They were at the party in Georgetown by then, and lost each other in the crowd for a while. She didn't see Jack again until he came to find her two hours later, and asked if she was ready to leave. They both were, it had been a long day and they'd been up late the night before, at the White House.

They didn't talk much on the way home, and he reminded her that he was going to Camp David for lunch with the President the next morning. “I'll meet you at the plane at two-thirty,” he said, looking distracted. They went to Virginia every weekend. Jack had bought a farm there the year before he met Maddy, and it was a place he loved, and she had gotten used to. It had a rambling, comfortable house, and miles of land around it. He kept stables, and some Thoroughbreds. But in spite of the pleasant scenery, Maddy was always bored there.

“Do you want to just stay in town this weekend?” she asked hopefully, as she followed him into the house after Charles dropped them off.

“We can't. I invited Senator McCutchins and his wife for the weekend.” He hadn't told her that either.

“Was that a secret too?” Maddy asked, looking irritated. She hated it when he didn't ask her about things like that, or at least warn her.

“I'm sorry, Maddy, I've been busy. I have a lot on my mind this week. There's some complicated stuff going on at the office.” She suspected he was distracted by the meeting at Camp David. But he still could have told her about the McCutchinses coming for the weekend. He smiled at her gently as he said it. “That was thoughtless of me. I'm sorry, baby.” It was hard to stay angry at him when he said it like that. He had an endearing way about him, and just as she started getting angry at him, she always found she couldn't.

“It's okay. I just would have liked to know.” She didn't bother telling him that she couldn't stand Paul McCutchins. Jack knew it. He was fat, overbearing, and arrogant, and his wife always looked terrified of him. She was too nervous to say more than two words whenever Maddy saw her, and she looked as though she were scared of her own shadow. Even their kids looked nervous. “Are they bringing their kids?” They had three pale, whiny children, whose company Maddy never enjoyed, although she generally liked children. Just not the McCutchinses'.