Interface

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "This can't be happening. This bitch can't possibly be our president. It won't last. Well, it is happening. I am the President. And I will continue to be for the next eight years. You'd better get used to it. Thank you for coming in. Now go out there and do your jobs."

There were boxes all over the place. Cozzano's boxes had been moved in this morning. Eleanor's boxes had been moved in at the Naval Observatory. Now Cozzano's boxes were being taken away and Eleanor's boxes were being hustled down and brought into the White House.

She had one of the movers keep his eye out for one item in particular: a very long, ski

It wasn't until about nine o'clock that she was able to keep her date with Mary Catherine. They met on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial, accompanied by the motley assortment of football players and graying Vietnam vets who had been following them around all day.

The area was checked out and cleared. Eleanor and Mary Catherine climbed up the steps of the Memorial, turned around, and looked out across the Tidal Basin toward the White House, a mile and a half away, brilliant under the lights.

Eleanor and Mary Catherine sat together on the top step, huddled together against a chilly wind coming off the Potomac . Mary Catherine put her head on Eleanor's shoulder and cried for a while. Eleanor held her patiently, stroking her hair in the way of mothers, and waiting for her to get it all out.

Then she waved her arm toward the Mall. "Look. It's beautiful," she said.

The air-traffic moratorium was still in place over D.C. National Airport, just across the river and it was quiet for the first time in decades. Consequently the Tidal Basin was the way it was supposed to be: placid, undisturbed by the shrieking and thundering of 767s veering in for their slam-dunk landings. The sky was cobalt blue and Venus was out, looking exactly like a diamond over the curved towers of the tall buildings in Rosslyn. The ring of half-staffed American flags around the Washington Monument flickered their silhouettes, lower than usual, against the white limestone.

"It is nice," Mary Catherine said, feeling better all of a sudden. "But I'm freezing."

"Me too," Eleanor confessed. Then she nodded across the Mall toward the White House. "Would you like to come over to my place and help me unpack?"