Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, California
Chase-Winston Residence
Penelope Margaret Chase Winston (D-CA)
The meeting with the First Lady nearly a month ago hadn't been totally uneventful. The widow had gotten more of a feeling for the current occupants of the residence, for better or worse. His wife was nice enough, not anything like Berg, who she already had a fixated opinion of, derived from talk in Hollywood circles. She did not expect for the First Lady to ever contact her for much again, though. She would cut a path on her own most likely. This wasn't a traditional presidency, so a traditional wife was out of the question to begin with. Penelope thought about how the joke about the situation room spiraled out of control, out of either pity laced compliance or inability to cut through sarcasm.
She could only hope that the Second Lady wasn't taking advantage given the skillset she had aquired in this town.
The kids were in their bedrooms, both asleep as it was very late and the both of them were exhausted. Earlier, they had gone out on a fun outing for the first time since before the suicide. Universal Studios. While they had been many times before, it was different now. They were younger then, and they had a father to hold them back, tell them no, embarrass them. Now they didn't, and the remaining parent couldn't bear to do any of that right now. So they had gone all out, had fun, spent too much money and been in Secret Service sight too little. It was almost definitely good for them, though these days she had trouble deciphering what was going on in their heads. Diana was... Not distant. But it had changed her obviously. Politically she wasn't in line with her father, that much had been discussed in private, but such differences were irrelevant when his actions meant his removal from office and his death. She had barely had time to say goodbye to her friends, Congress had moved so fast. The Erics replaced them seemingly overnight. It was traumatic to be sure, and she made sure that her daughter knew that there was always help available. Brian, being younger and less resilient, was even more upset. He had gone mute for a month straight. The Secret Service said he had somehow gotten ahold of a letter addressed to his late father that was damaging to say the least, and the evaluations and therapists pegged that as the source of the problem. He was "fine" now, he was talking again and acting normally in public and with new friends. But she heard him in his room at night sometimes, and she knew that he wasn't over it.
Penelope herself sat on a white couch in the middle of a vast living room, staring down at a copy of "To Kill a Mockingbird" but not reading it. She had picked it up 10 minutes ago from her library, and she had intended to start then, but her train of thought was derailed. She had never gotten through the entirety of the book, not in school, not in the White House, not ever. She had started many times, but never had the time to just sit down and power through it. She enjoyed what she did read, to an extent. But she knew how it ended, and she knew that it wasn't the happiest of conclusions. Just as she was starting to open it again, a ring on her cell cut through the soft jazz that floated throughout the abode. She answered it, noting that the caller ID indicated her personal secretary.
"Mrs. Winston, you seem to have received a rather private message, it checks out as well. Would you like me to forward it?"
Penelope had a fleeting thought that she strangled just as she had before.
"Yes."
A moment later, she recieved it and listened to it in its entirety. Once it was finished, she listened again before setting her phone down on the glass table in front of her, hands trembling.
"Its been so long." she thought to herself. "How could I have forgotten?"
The truth was that she hadn't, but she wasn't going to let herself know that at the moment. There was a part of her that felt like even humoring this man would be an unforgivable sin. Surely this was just some sort of... She didn't know.
She really didn't know, but she wanted to find out.
It was very late, the message had been left much earlier in the day, but knowing him as she did, she figured he wouldn't be asleep for another couple of hours. Without allowing herself time to think about it, she dialed the number he had left and listened to it ring.
