Free The President's Daughter by Ellen Emerson White Page B

incautious.
    There was a spray of snow as someone stopped next to her and, focusing on dark curly hair and a tanned face, Meg decided that she believed in God.
    â€œYou okay?” the guy asked, his voice flippantly concerned.
    â€œYeah, thank you. Just hit some ice.” Embarrassed, Meg used her poles to push herself up.
    â€œLet me give you a hand.” He moved a thick glove underneath her elbow.
    â€œThank you.” She stepped back into her right ski, which had released when she crashed, and then knocked the snow off her jacket and jammed her Red Sox cap back on. Luckily, she had tied the cap to the loop on the inside of her jacket collar, so that while it flew off constantly when she was skiing fast, it would just flap behind her, instead of getting lost.
    â€œMy name’s Dave.” He brushed some snow off her back, and she blushed, the touch somehow intrusive. “What’s yours?”
    â€œMeg,” she said.
    He studied her for a second, his eyes going down. “How old are you?”
    Unexpected, magical romance would have been too much to hope for. She sighed. “Almost sixteen.” Well, more like fifteen and a half—but, that was a mere detail.
    â€œWould have guessed older.” His eyes moved again.
    Great. She turned to avoid the scrutiny, reddening more. “How old are you?”
    â€œBe nineteen in a couple of months. I go to Dartmouth.” His voice was superior.
    â€œGood school,” she said.
    â€œYeah.” He bent to adjust a buckle on his boot, balancing on one
pole, and she wondered if she should seize the moment and make a quick escape. He straightened up. “You hear we’ve got a celebrity up here this weekend?”
    â€œOh?” Meg tried not to groan aloud.
    He nodded. “Yeah. Presidential candidate. You ever hear of Senator Powers?”
    Meg let herself look faintly puzzled. “She’s the woman, right?”
    â€œYeah.” This time, his nod was patronizing, and he spoke in the authoritative voice of a college freshman taking Political Science 101. “Of course, she’ll never win.”
    Oh, really? “Why not?” she asked.
    â€œWe need a man in the position,” he said. “Particularly these days.”
    What a jerk. “We do?” she asked pleasantly.
    â€œAbsolutely,” he said, not even noticing that she’d stiffened. “Certainly, Powers is probably qualified, and she gives a good speech, but she wouldn’t have the authority, especially in dealing with world leaders. If she’s lucky, Kruger or someone’ll ask her to be his running mate—that’d be a better place for her.”
    It would be fun to watch and see how much further he could get his foot into his mouth. She smiled very, very pleasantly. “Why?”
    â€œNo responsibility,” he said.
    Within seconds, she was going to have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.
    Or, perhaps, not perform it on him.
    â€œI mean,” Dave shifted his weight to the other pole, “she’d probably be good at functions—she’s poised, and God, no one can say she isn’t good-looking. But, you have to have a man at the top.”
    It was too late for the Heimlich; they had now moved into emergency tracheotomy territory.
    â€œBut,” he smiled at her, “I’m sorry to go on like that, I couldn’t expect you to be interested.”
    â€œWhy not?” Meg asked in the voice of a champion Ice Queen.
    â€œWell, you’re—” He paused, searching for the word. “I mean—”

    â€œLook,” she cut him off. “Before you say anything else, maybe you should know something.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” he asked, sounding amused by what he seemed to consider her presumptuousness.
    â€œSenator Powers is my mother,” she said.
    He stared at her. “Y-your mother?”
    She nodded. “My mother.” She pushed off and down the