Free Capitol Threat by William Bernhardt

the small rear herb garden surrounded by stately hedges, but the rest thought the enclosure was too small to accommodate everyone who would want to attend. In addition to that problem, a Ford SUV illegally parked on a dirt road at the far end of the property was visible at that angle. Hammond favored the central garden with the flowering plants, since it was beautiful and would create a positive impression. Roush’s people worried that being photographed surrounded by brightly colored flowers would seem too “gay,” whatever that meant. Perhaps it was an indicator of Roush’s eagerness for the job; Hammond’s crew won. The podium, the nominee, the supporters, and the press were artfully arranged at the south end of the garden among the tulips, pansies, and hanging lilies, just in front of a round-top wooden door covered with green climbing ivy—like something out of
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
    “Once we’re married, I want a garden like this,” Christina said, tugging gently at Ben’s sleeve. She had left her work on the Wilderness bill administrative committee midday to attend the conference.
    “Christina, please don’t start…”
    “I’m not starting anything. I’m just telling you that whether we end up in your boardinghouse or someplace nice, I expect to have a garden. A good one.”
    “Then you’d better see if Ray Eastwick can fly out to Tulsa. Because I don’t know from gardening.”
    Christina squeezed his arm and smiled. “You don’t know from women, either. But you’re going to learn.”
    A few discreet coughs from the President’s representative—a junior staffer from the fund-raising department, about as low-level a rep as the President could possibly send without admitting he no longer supported the candidate—told Ben it was time to begin the conference. At Hammond’s request, and against his better judgment, Ben had agreed to introduce the nominee after a few humorous introductory remarks from the Minority Leader. He couldn’t help but dwell on the irony of it—a Republican nominee reduced to being introduced by two Democrats.
    Ben waited for the laughter at Hammond’s jokes to subside before he began speaking. He had never been very good at getting people’s attention. He had read that some politicians seemed to grow larger than life when they stepped behind a podium. Ben was pretty sure he shrank. Here in Alice’s garden, he might as well sip from the bottle labeled DRINK ME .
    “You may be asking why I—the most junior of the junior senators—am delivering this introduction,” Ben began. “The answer is simple. This is a time in our nation’s history when we must reach across party lines and remember that we are one nation. The nomination of someone who is actually qualified for the job—eminently so, in this case—is a cause for rejoicing, not mud-wrestling in partisan politics. So I am here, like many of my Democratic brethren, to show that we not only believe that this nomination is appropriate—it is important.”
    Enough speechifying. He wasn’t very good at it, anyway. “Judge Roush has a few preliminary remarks, and then he’ll entertain any questions—any reasonable and appropriate questions—you may care to ask.”
    Ben stepped back and Roush squared himself behind the podium. Ben noted that he was carrying only one sheet of paper, which suggested that he either intended to devote most of the time to questions or did not as yet understand what would be required of him. These people weren’t going to let him by with a paragraph of platitudes.
    “I suppose it may seem a little unusual,” Roush began, “to hold another press conference so soon after the last. But to my great surprise, there seems to be a significant interest in…well, me.”
    A few chuckles. Good, Ben thought. Put them off guard with a little humor. Harder to be tough on someone they like.
    “At least the media seems to have a consuming interest. The rank-and-file