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out.”
    “Go.”
    By the time Claire made the turn, Maxine was inside the restroom. Cinnegar kept the first lady outside until Maxine assured him that the restroom was secure. Claire sighed with relief.
     
    When they arrived at the Theodore Roosevelt Meeting Room Hawkins ushered the first lady inside. The spacious room was furnished with original pieces that President Roosevelt had brought with him to the White House from Sagamore Hill, his family home. A line of men and women stood between the wall and a red velvet rope supported by brass stanchions. The line ended near the hotel’s most famous antique, a grandfather’s clock that had stood in a sitting room in the White House and graced the cover of the hotel’s brochure. The photographer was waiting in front of the clock, which rang nine times moments after the first lady entered.
    Most of the men and women on the line were powerful attorneys, wealthy financiers, corporate executives and their spouses, but many of them looked like anxious children waiting to climb on Santa’s knee. Claire was amused. She’d experienced this phenomenon many times during her White House years—rich and powerful men and women reduced to gawking tourists at a celebrity sighting.
    Several other people were milling around the room sipping champagne or eating the hors d’oeuvres that had been set out for the upscale crowd. One of the men had just stuffed a piece of caviar-smeared toast into his mouth. When he saw the first lady he wiped his hands on a napkin and swallowed quickly before walking over to her.
    “Dale!” she said when she saw the lawyer.
    “Just thought I’d give you a heads up,” Perry said. “The fifth guy in line is Herman Kava, an industrialist from Ohio and a client. Treat him nice.”
    “Treat him nice” was code for a big contribution alert. Claire smiled.
    “Thank you, Dale.”
    “Glad to be of service. Hey, Chuck.”
    Hawkins nodded before leading the first lady to her position in front of the clock.
     
    Roughly forty minutes later, Claire thanked the last person in the line. As soon as an aide led the contributor out of the room she sagged with relief.
    “How are you feeling?” Hawkins asked.
    “Exhausted. Let me sit down.”
    “Are you okay?” Dale Perry asked when Claire collapsed onto a chair.
    “Oh, Dale, I thought you’d left.”
    “I did, but I wanted to tell you the good news. Kava will be writing a check and he says Chris will be very pleased.”
    “Good,” she answered as she rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
    Hawkins was about to say something when his cell phone rang. He looked conflicted, but Perry waved him away.
    “Take the call. I’ll look after Claire.”
    Hawkins pressed the phone to his ear then he cursed. “There’s no reception in here. I have to go outside.”
    “Its okay, Chuck,” Claire assured him. “Dale will get me upstairs.”
    Hawkins hurried out and Claire struggled to her feet.
    “What’s upstairs?” asked Ray Cinnegar.
    “I had Chuck book a suite for me in case I got sick or exhausted.”
    Cinnegar scowled. “This is the first I’ve heard about a suite.”
    “I’m sorry. I did it at the last moment and I forgot to tell you.”
    “You’re supposed to clear this type of thing with us so we can check it out in advance.”
    “I know, Ray. I’m sorry.”
    “I don’t think I can let you go up. We don’t know who’s in the adjoining suite, we haven’t checked the room for explosives…”
    “Chuck also booked the adjoining suite and no one expected me to stay at the hotel. Check out the suite but do it quickly. I’m really not feeling well.”
    “You’re certain you don’t want to go back to the White House?” Cinnegar asked.
    “I’m positive. I need to rest now.”
    “Where is it?” Cinnegar asked. She told Cinnegar and he gave instructions to one of his men.
    “Let me help you,” Dale Perry said as he offered her his arm. Claire headed for the door and