Free Madam President by Nicolle Wallace Page B

leaking information to Congress and the media about the former vice president’s instability and questionable competence. Dale had felt torn about whether to take the inquiries to Craig or the White House counsel or even the president. The rumors about Craig unfairly painting Melanie as the leaker had posed a giant moral dilemma for Dale, as Melanie was the one who’d made sure that Dale had a top-notch lawyer to defend her from charges from Congress that she’d played a role in covering up the vice president’s condition. Melanie was also the one who had warned her about how ugly the West Wing would become once an investigation was under way. Ultimately, Dale had decided not to confront Craig with the allegations. She could not fathom that he was capable of what the reporters suggested. He was her closest friend in Washington and her steadfast ally. Craig had also waged an aggressive campaign to help Dale secure the press secretary job. Surely he was entitled to the benefit of doubt from her. Dale was interrupted from her thoughts again by the sound of the production assistant tapping on her window.
    He had hopped out of the car to help the crew set up to shoot her walking into the West Wing.
    “Are you guys ready?” she asked him.
    “Yes, ma’am. Whenever you are.”

CHAPTER NINE
    Charlotte
    C harlotte reached over and turned off her alarm before it went off.
    “Are you getting up?” Peter asked.
    “I’m going to get some reading done. I’ll go into the study so you can go back to sleep,” she whispered.
    “It’s the middle of the night,” he protested.
    She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s almost five, and I’m about to walk into an ambush. CBS is going to be embedded with me all day. I’m not going to get any real work done. You’ll call Penny?”
    “As soon as the sun comes up on the West Coast.”
    “Before that, please.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Charlotte scratched Cammie’s ears, gathered her pile of papers from the nightstand, and walked down the hall to her study.
    The White House staff secretary had placed a copy of her briefing book for the day in the center of her desk. The White House office of the staff secretary—a little-known and utterly indispensible group of West Wing employees—was responsible for assembling the briefing book and setting it on her desk at whatever hour it was completed the night before. The book contained detailed minute-by-minute schedules, briefing papers, final versions of speeches, and any sensitive background materialfor every meeting and event on her schedule. Even seemingly spontaneous drop-by meetings on her schedule were carefully researched, vetted, and scripted to avoid any potential for embarrassment.
    The actual newspapers wouldn’t be brought up until about 5:45 A . M ., but there was a set of news clips still warm from the copy machine that had been placed next to the briefing book on her desk. A junior staffer in the White House press office came in at two A . M . and printed off the major stories from the Web sites of all the major newspapers. The “clips” were then photocopied for the senior White House staff and also placed on their desks.
    The White House butlers had placed a pot of coffee, a pitcher of warm milk, and a cup and saucer on a tray on the side of her desk. In a few minutes, one of the butlers would come in and ask her if she wanted anything to eat. She’d say “Not yet,” as she always did, and they’d come back every thirty minutes to see if she’d changed her mind, until she finally agreed to a smoothie, her one concession to Maureen’s evangelism for clean living. Charlotte made a mental note to tell Maureen about Brooke and Mark’s fondness for juice cleanses. It seemed everyone her age was resorting to extreme measures to beat back the forces of nature. Charlotte found it amusing. Self-improvement was her generation’s obsession. She just wanted to be able to sleep past five A . M . again. Maureen