Author's Note: Suzanne McNamara worked at the NCIS building as a craft services employee five years while attending law school. It was during the last year of graduate school Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs became romantically interested with the 30 year old. Her graduation was a turning point in her life. She was offered a position with NCIS in both LA and New Orleans. Jethro proposed marriage, which she accepted. Suzanne, assigned to the legal department with NCIS until the end of the year, wanted a career of her own, a sense of identity other than just Mrs. Jethro Gibbs. The Secretary of the Navy recommended the new graduate for a place in the White House, and she received a job offer with the President of the United States before their October wedding date as an Aide before her marriage to Special Agent Gibbs and accepted.

The following describes how Suzanne adjusts to her new role as Presidential Aide and working at the White House.

Suzanne Gibbs, nee McNamara, led her academic and personal life with the slogan, 'always on the run.' Since her early 20's, she never understood the word idle, as in rest. The mantra was not different once she graduated from Georgetown Law and worked her first job—Office of the President. The passion for excellent work remained.

I can't believe I'm working at the White House!

Suzanne returned on January 2. The general paperwork and tour was weeks earlier when she accepted the job. She received a new phone, a new tablet computer from the NSA. The office protocol of the position began. She walked into the door, taking it all in! She was dressed for the part—black pant suit, flat Mary Jane slip on shoes. Too stuffy, she first commented but Suzanne realized: her job responsibility was to both look and perform the tasks associated with the President of the United States. It was so much activity! People passed along the corridors; some were friendly, others were focused on their personal agenda. The first few minutes were dedicated to feeling the energy.

Matching, casual sneakers might be okay to wear around the office, perhaps in the car. A female staffer whisked by, impeccably dressed while wearing the proper attire but very stylish sneakers.

'Always on the Run.' That seemed to be the motto of the White House.

While making her way to the West Wing and the Office of Scheduling and Advancement, she remembered the wisdom from Sol and Susan McNamara: In bringing up children, spend on them half as much money and twice as much time.

Suzanne was the youngest and spent more time with the two. Parents learned from Simon and JR: each child with an individual personality. Suzanne was the "why" child, the inquisitive, very intelligent but stubborn child. That innate curiosity, perseverance served her well with her new career. The McNamara core remained with her; it was ingrained in both personal and professional endeavors:

· Life isn't a popularity contest.

· Say please and thank you.

· Always say 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' when you're addressing your elders.

· No choices: either take it or leave it.

· When you teach your children, you teach your children's children.

"Why are you so quiet now? You weren't during the interview…" The President commented as Suzanne walked alongside Linda.

"Good Morning, Linda. Miss McNamara." He grinned.

"Good Morning, Mr. President." They both replied.

A typical day with the President of the United States was event scheduling with at least 3 to 6 months in advance. After all, her job description coincided with the Department of Scheduling and Advance and some responsibilities with the Chief of Staff. She was referred to as the "Body Woman," the President's companion. It was a title Claudia wanted, expected but did not earn. Already, it was tension in the air. The two met in the aisle while Linda showed Suzanne the floor layout.

"Hi, I'm Suzanne." She smiled, extended her hand for a handshake, which was not returned. The other walked to her desk.

"Okay…"

"That's Claudia, one of the Presidential Aides." Linda clarified, whispered in her ear. "She's evil."

That was a first for Suzanne—rudeness at the workplace.

"Claudia!" The same stern voice Suzanne heard, followed by a mellowed tone. Claudia returned to the aisle.

"This is Suzanne, the President's new assistant. Please make her feel welcomed."

"Hello." Reluctantly, Claudia shook her hand.

"Hi." Suzanne's mood was not too enthusiastic.

"Okay, you can retract your claws, Claudia." Linda muttered.

One immediate request, once she arrived, was to work with others within the Scheduling Office.

"I really don't need an office." She continuously muttered. "I travel with the President and work with my colleagues in scheduling and advance."

Linda Person was the Director and enjoyed the unsullied attitude.

"It will be a pleasure to work alongside you, dear." She shook her head in agreement, flashed a smile of concurrence.

"Oh, joy!" A sarcastic Claudia muttered aloud.

With her wish respected, Suzanne claimed the desk closest to the corridor near the Oval Office. She had little to place on her desk. After all, she learned from previous experiences to travel lightly. She educated herself to keep all work-related items in a black backpack-lightly and firmly packed, weighing less than 40 lbs.

She fled from Guatemalan guerrillas with a backpack of belongings, depending on common sense, the word of others. Suzanne rarely shared the details of that last leg of her Peace Corps assignment, except it fueled her wish to study law. From the past, she valued how events changed at a moment's notice and learned how to adjust. The only mementos she kept visible in her work space were two items. First was a small portrait of her and Jethro during their honeymoon. The other was a cork board with various quotes and notes.

The first order of business was to merely see the President's likes and dislikes. He respected good manners but established personal relationships with each employee. He called Linda "P" and Claudia "C;" not original monikers. It was not so rigid where every moment seemed tense-filled. All commented positively on his dedication to the office and his sense of humor behind the camera.

Her daddy's voice crept into her thoughts about the first impression. Her colleague's nasty attitude bothered her.

"Be damned if someone takes away your power…" –a nugget of wisdom from Solomon McNamara, Jr. Suzanne remembered.

The memory warranted a comment woman-to-woman, privately and to the point. She was deliberately loud enough for Linda to overhear but soft when speaking to Claudia. She walked to her desk. The move was not to intimidate but to empower. The lean frame she used to an advantage.

"I just want to let you know, Claudia…" Suzanne leaned closer, stared into Claudia's eye. She removed her eyeglasses and placed them into her pocket. The smile disappeared from her face.

"You donot want to cross me. I am not the one. Got it?"

"Got it!" Claudia responded, smirked. "You have some backbone."

The two smiled. Suzanne backed to an appropriate conversational distance, returning to the workspace.

"Do not let the clothes or my smile fool you. I will knock you out."

Linda chuckled.

"Suzanne, may I please have coffee?"

"If you'll excuse me…" Suzanne left the desk and walked towards the President's library.

"There's a new queen…" Linda was hysterically laughing at the new employee's attitude, humming along while typing documents. Claudia, speechless, turned toward the computer monitor.

"We're going to spend more time with one another than we do with our own spouses."

The latter was true. The President's comment remained in her mind after work. Their working relationship could make interesting historical footnotes. Exciting times, she thought. From graduate student to White House employee! Her upcoming adventures alone would garner interested parties from a lawyer-based, even Presidential history perspective.

The world is my oyster, isn't it, Daddy?

For Suzanne, newly married, she wanted to enjoy her husband's company. At the end of the workday, Suzanne was proud. No bloodshed, she thought. She learned several names, and she stood up for herself when dealing with an antagonist. Excited about her first day at her first career-job, Suzanne shared the news with Jethro.

"I told her I'm not the one." Suzanne chewed her salad thoroughly.

"It's about setting a tone." Jethro agreed, chuckled. "I'm proud of you, Susie."

"He mentioned the time we'll spend together—The President and I."

Jethro nodded. "It looks like I'll travel a bit."

"Well, it comes with the territory." Jethro reached for Suzanne's hand, squeezed as a sign of assurance. "But I know you're coming home—our home."

"I need to think of a work name for you."

The origin of Suzanne's nickname was merely coincidental. The name came to the President on his way to a secret shopping expedition in Alexandria, along the GW Parkway in a stylish SUV. Dressed in a gray with blue pinstriped suit, matching jacket and corresponding color Oxford button shirt, Suzanne donned on her prescription Ray Ban sunshades. The President wore casual clothing—chinos, collared shirt and v-neck sweater. Suzanne suggested the transitional glasses, ones that became sunglasses in the light and a Nationals baseball cap—to throw off the public. There were few pictures of the President in glasses and fewer in a baseball cap, slightly covering his famous furred brow.

The two walked together in the parking lot and into the store. The group blended into the crowd. So far, so good, Suzanne thought. A familiar song played once they walked inside, and he asked if anyone called her 'Susie Q' as a nickname.

"Susie Q?"

"My husband calls me Susie." She answered. The two walked around the store, blending in well. Suzanne picked up stapler groceries—milk, bread, dog food, coffee.

"I guess Susie is out of the question…too intimate." The two chuckled. "I can hear your husband…'he calls you what?!'" There was a pause in the conversation. He glanced at her left hand, noticing the thin gold wedding band with the engagement ring.

"Tell me about your husband, McNamara."

Suzanne gave little information, except his name and his place-NCIS. She smiled when she spoke of Jethro. She shared with the President a picture of her and Gibbs during their honeymoon in Hawaii.

"When did you get married?" The President asked. "You were engaged when we had the interview."

"October 15th." Suzanne responded, smiled. "It's been two months. I'm getting used to my new last name-Gibbs."

"When you've done over 20 years, come and talk to me." He said with a smile. The President was happily married, not pretending for political gain. He and the First Lady had a realistic marriage. "I'd do it all again."

The President's bio, available via the official website, spoke highly of Catherine, or "Kay" as he called her, and their four children—twins Robert and Matthew daughters Emily, and Jessica. He took pictures on his Blackberry, glanced at them from time to time.

"They grow up so fast." He sighed. "Kay and I just began our family…now, look at them!" The boys were 13; Emily was 10 and Jessica was 6, just starting Kindergarten. He showed various poses—official and casual. He boasted about his family, an indicator to Suzanne that he was not self-absorbed. Rather, the President of the United States was a happily married family man. There were family pet names for the kids—the boys were called Robbie and Matt. "Em" was the shortened form for his oldest daughter. Jessie, he chuckled was the "Rough Rider," or Double R. In an intimate portrait, Double R was catching and throwing footballs with her brothers. Suzanne chuckled.

"I was like that with my brothers." She commented, smiled.

"So, I have another Suzanne McNamara on my hands?"

"Mr. President…?" Suzanne gently reminded to focus on the task at hand—enjoying a day in public without hearing his official title.

"I like 'Q' for a nickname. You know, James Bond had his boss named Q."

The second initial stuck; Q. It was a perfect handle for security detail, referring to the aide as "Query." The Commander-in-Chief had a very distinctive speaking voice. Their conversation was soft.

"Q was a man." Suzanne replied, checking off items from a paper list while pushing the shopping cart. "M was the female predecessor, the head of MI-6."

"Any reason you're wearing shades in the store?"

"Migraines." Suzanne shared. "Sometimes the bright lights trigger migraine headaches."

She picked up various items, asking the President if he wanted the item. He nodded either yes or no. It was learned he enjoyed the occasional sweets, particularly brownies.

"For now on, you are Q for Query. Any questions about the President will be directed to 'Q.'"

"I'll answer to it, Mr. President."

The two walked through a checkout, remaining undetected. Unbelievable: in the afternoon, the President of the United States and his aide safely shopped at a local store, unrecognized. It was a test for Suzanne, to decide whether she could make the President blend into public without detection.

"Mr. President: why did we come here?" Suzanne asked. It dawned on her once she placed the groceries into the car that it was all her own household needs, except for the brownies.

"Thought you needed the company." He opened the container, popped a brownie in his mouth. "Hey, thanks for the brownies! Kay won't let me have any!"

Suzanne grinned and realized she got "punked" by the President!

Suzanne learned during training that the President preferred to begin the day with calisthenics. When needed, Suzanne, sometimes, was also included in the personal schedule. His exercise regimen was mixed, sometimes a 3 on 3 basketball game and other days spent in the weight room. She did not take part in the 3 on 3 tournaments at first. Rather, she worked in the office. Exercise may begin or end the day, so she learned to keep workout clothes with her, as the routine changed often. Suzanne exercised at her own pace, being present for company.

Before the end of a work day, the President peeped in the office, inquiring the 3 mile run he wanted for the morning.

"The detail will go with you tomorrow morning, Sir, at 05:30." Suzanne continued typing, reading over notes on her computer.

"Oh, I know you can run 3 miles." The President encouraged.

"I know this is not part of my pay grade." She laughed.

"It most certainly is." The President replied. "Besides, I may think of something spectacular during our run, Q. I need you to help formulate an idea."

She arrived home after making a stop to the athletic store. Suzanne wore sneakers but the casual kind without shock absorbents for running.

"Hi, Honey." Suzanne tossed her work satchel on the floor, began with a step towards the bedroom.

"Hi. What's that?" Jethro asked, kissing her on the cheek. His question was the large shopping bag.

"Running clothes; you never know what to expect with the POTUS." Suzanne replied. She talked while getting situated.

"He wants to run 3 miles tomorrow…with me!"

Jethro chuckled. "When was the last time you did a run?"

"About six months ago." Suzanne replied.

"Think you'll keep up?" Jethro asked. "He's a pretty good runner."

"No, but I'll look the part." Suzanne came downstairs with her well worn running attire but the new sneakers.

"You're welcome to join me on a jog." Suzanne placed her arms around his waist, nuzzled his neck. "I'm going to break in these shoes."

"I'm cooking dinner." Jethro answered. "It'll be ready in 20 minutes."

"I'm just running two miles—one up and one back with Fred." She kissed him on the cheek, placed Fred on his lead. "I'll be ready to eat. I promise."

Suzanne and Fred returned about half-hour later. Like promised, she enjoyed the delicious burgers Jethro prepared.

"How's work?" Suzanne asked.

"Oh, keeping the world safe so you and the President can go for a jog tomorrow morning…" Jethro rarely mentioned work after hours.

"I'm more interested in my girl."

Suzanne smiled, complimenting Jethro on the dinner—just the way she liked. She liked baked potatoes with burgers instead of French fries, her burger medium rare with grilled onions.

"You would think the White House would feed you…" Jethro muttered, watching Suzanne eat every morsel.

"I've exercised with the President—works up an appetite." Suzanne offered to clear the dining table but Jethro stopped her.

"You're off dish duty. Take a shower and I'll meet you upstairs." Jethro kissed Suzanne. He jokingly sniffed her neck, a gentle nudge for Suzanne to shower and change. "Maybe we can…exercise."

Suzanne showered while Jethro whistled happily, cleaning the kitchen. She showered, changed into her night-clothes, began reading a book. Once he made it to the bedroom, Suzanne was asleep!

The detail arrived at Suzanne's home at 06:00. Donned in her sleek gray and black outfit and positive attitude, Suzanne hopped downstairs. She generally wore her hair open, free-flowing. She slicked it in a ponytail and carried extra belongings in a small bag.

"I'll be back after while, Jethro." Suzanne whispered, kissing his cheek.

"I'll be here."

On a cold January, Suzanne wore just a heavy hooded Georgetown emblazoned sweatshirt and loose-fitting black shorts.

"Alright then…let's do this!" The President was inside the car and chuckled.

"Do you run?"

"I haven't in a while." Suzanne admitted. "I ran cross-country my last two years in college, wasn't very good. I can eke out maybe a 30 minute 5K on a good day." She stretched and adjusted once they made it out of the car.

"What about you, Mr. President?"

"Every few days." He replied, chuckled. "My personal best is 5 miles on an 8 minute pace. We'll see how you keep up."

'8 minute pace...?' Suzanne thought. 'Oh, good Lord!'

"You'll improve." He began to lightly jog. "Let's go, Q!" She put on the ear buds, raised the volume to her I-Pod to the loudest level. Today was an old-school day, she mused. A fan of the second English invasion, she put a Culture Club remix. The instrumental to a ballad was the anticipatory set, allowing her to truly embrace the changing physical scenery of Washington. She reminisced about Solomon McNamara, her beloved father.

"Really, Q?" The President chuckled.

To hear his adventures one more time, she thought…The first half-mile was the hardest, as she had to readjust her pacing. The beginning was perfect, the synthesizer helping her foot pace. She ran slowly but steadily and felt the brisk wind against her face. It was reminiscent of training, remembering her father's competitive advice, words of comfort. She kept a pace, miraculously, and enjoyed the run. It was what her father emphasized the most: admire the wonders of our world.

"Come on, Slowpoke!"

She heard the President through the headphones. The security detail chuckled along the President, watching their new aide. They ran half of the distance scheduled. While the President maintained an 8 minute mile, Suzanne was about two minutes behind. As the song transitioned to the instrumental solos and into the second one, she found a second gear, inching slowly to meet with the boss.

Cry it's a miracle (miracle)

Cry it's a miracle (miracle)

"I thought you were an Army brat."

"I am. Running long distances are not new for me." The second song had a lighter melody. It was intertwined with the main song.

I know you miss me, I know you miss me, I know you miss me blind…

I know you miss me, I know you miss me, Iknow you miss me blind…

Step by step, Suzanne gained ground. The guitar and bass solo lick allowed her to keep in time with his step. The guitar cranked an electrifying solo as the bassist kept the simple melodic beat.

"Oh, you want to race?" He asked.

"Nah. I got my second wind."

Soon, the President and Suzanne stayed in the same stride for the third mile. As the solo guitar played, Suzanne slowly edged the President, humming the melody. Her head corresponded with the beat. Suzanne, breathing heavier than normal—a reminder to why she stopped smoking cigarettes, maybe an occasional one to relieve the stress—was thankful it was over! Suzanne lunged forward, taking deep breaths. She glanced at her boss.

Successfully, she passed the endurance part of the job.

Impressive…The President of the United States was impressed.

"She told me to not let you get away."

Kay's advice, to hire the 30-year-old woman, was the unsolicited, politically non-partisan but gender-bias support from the residence.

"Kay said you were the perfect candidate." The President shared. "I'm ready to see what you can do as a scheduler."

The President felt confident. He joked with the detail as they walked into the vehicle.

"Q is somewhat athletic, though her jump shot needs work. Overall, she is discrete, humorous, industrious and from what I've seen, a snazzy dresser." The detail chuckled.

"She'll fit right into the detail, Sir." responded the Secret Service agent.

Suzanne was ready for the first assignment, a relaxing weekend in Williamsburg and an impromptu visit to her alma mater, the College of William and Mary.

"9:30?" The President suggested. "That'll give you time to shower and coffee before we start our day."

The briefing before Williamsburg occurred that Thursday afternoon in the President's library. The two further detailed the itinerary, discussing options over coffee. The clock chimed 4:00 pm.

"The kids should be coming home from school." The President realized. "That means dinner's at 6:30." Suzanne nodded, continued jotting notes. He suggested, insisted that she stay for dinner.

"I think our spouses should meet one another." The President recommended. "It's baked chicken with macaroni and cheese—a real treat from the kitchen."

"I'll call Jethro." Suzanne chuckled. She retrieved her cellphone from a jacket pocket, scanned through the directory with the gentle touch of a fingertip. The phone dialed, line trilled.

"Hi, Sugar."

Suzanne excused herself into the hallway, cellphone in hand.

"Hi. You're up for dinner?"

"Depends on where." Jethro answered, multitasking—phone cradled in his ear, his hands typing on the keyboard.

"The White House—Private Residence."

"Sugar, I'm not dressed." Jethro wore his chinos, polo shirt and dark sports coat. "By the time I get home and dress…"

"There's a dress shirt in your gear…" Suzanne shared. Jethro glanced in his bag, noticing the neatly bound collared shirt and a few ties. "Dinner is at 6:30."

"I guess…I can get myself together." Jethro chuckled.

"Good, because I need a ride home." Suzanne said. Jethro remembered dropping off his wife off to work earlier; her Karmann Ghia was being serviced.

"Suzanne, I need those numbers from my desk." The President asked.

"I need to get back to work, Jethro." Suzanne walked into the Oval Office, retrieved the file. She began to the library.

"I love you, Susie."

"You too." She replied, handing the file to the President.

"Say it. I'm not hanging up until you do, Suzanne."

"I love you too, Sweetie."

"Can I have your undivided attention, please, Mrs. McNamara-Gibbs?" The President moaned. "We have to finish."

Jethro laughed and the line disconnected. The President chuckled. Suzanne shook her head in disbelief.

"Mr. President, Mrs. Owens: Special Agent Gibbs."

Jethro entered the room, also entranced by its grandeur and in disbelief. The navy collared shirt and olive tie complimented another.

"There he is." Suzanne rose from the couch and walked towards Jethro. She greeted him with a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hi, Honey." The two embraced.

"Really, Suz?" Jethro whispered in her ear.

"You cannot say no to the President of the United States, Jethro." She muttered in his ear, teeth clinched and eyes wide. She faced the First Couple, smiling.

"This is my husband, Jethro."

"It's good to meet you, Gunny." The President and Jethro shook hands, both with firm grips. "Your wife has…not said a lot about you."

"Susie and I are both private people." He smirked. "Thank you for inviting me."

"This is Catherine, my wife."

"Ma'am." Jethro said, shaking her hand, his grip significantly softer. "It's a pleasure."

"Please, call me Kay."

"Dinner will be another half-hour." The President announced. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm stealing Suzanne for another 15 minutes."

"How about those two?" Kay and Jethro watched their spouses, sitting in another room and further detailing plans for the trip.

"They're definitely a good team." Jethro replied.

"You have a wonderful wife, Agent Gibbs." Kay complimented. "She has a beautiful spirit. Most of all, she's trustworthy. That's what I really like about Suzanne."

"She is a special person." Gibbs nodded, smiled. Suzanne glanced briefly, winked and refocused her attention on the President. "What you see is what you get."

"That's why I wanted for us to meet. It's not all about keeping up appearances in a presidential marriage." Kay directed Gibbs to the couch. The two sat while a worker served coffee.

"Off record, people in the press, even people who work for the White House, may make innuendos about our spouses, try linking them romantically…but, I trust Suzanne with all my heart." Jethro nodded as Kay continued.

"Do you trust your husband?"

"If you're asking if I ever suspected anything, I have once or twice." Jethro's eyebrows narrowed.

"As a married couple, you have disagreements, you wonder about…outside influences, how much time they spend with each other…but it is wonder, not fact. We've been married 22 years, four children."

"Suzanne describes her relationship with the President as a big brother." Jethro added. "3 on 3 basketball tournaments, running, some friendly banter…"

"She's not the type of woman who takes an interest in your family and then screws a knife into your back." Kay sipped delicately from her coffee cup. "I felt a sense of honesty once I met her. I suggested to David to pick Suzanne as an aide. Radical idea—the First Lady suggesting a woman confidant for the President—isn't it?"

"For a male President, it is." Jethro agreed. "I was surprised when Susie came home, said she got a job with the White House."

"It's about trust, both on and off camera. No secrets."

"What are you two discussing?" The President interrupted, Suzanne walking seconds behind.

"Just life." Kay smiled and Jethro nodded.

"I was about to share with the First Lady my cooking skills." Suzanne immediately noticed the hesitation in Jethro's answers. It was true; his cooking skills improved since marriage. The conversation was much more significant; she sensed it but decided to address it later.

"Jethro made Jambalaya last night for dinner...minus the pork." Suzanne placed her hands softly on his shoulder, glanced in his eyes. "It was really good!"

"She doesn't eat pork." Jethro glanced at Suzanne once more. "In fact, she doesn't eat much."

"I worked around food for 10 years." She chuckled. "I'll cook but not in the mood for eating."

"The next time you two come for dinner, you must bring that. I'll make my beignets." Kay suggested.

The dinner bell rang, indicating it was time for dinner.

Suzanne and Jethro thanked the family for such a great meal and the hospitality. It was unbelievable—dinner with the First Family, though for Suzanne, it was a working environment. It was after 9 when the two drove away, heading home, about 30 minutes away. It was quiet for most of the ride, the two listening to a radio station.

She asked about the earlier conversation between Kay and Jethro, the one the President interrupted.

"We discussed trust in relationships." Jethro admitted as the two drove home. "How she trusts you, the President."

"Do you trust me, Jethro?"

"Of course, I trust you!" He responded. The two stopped at a long light, the main intersection only a few miles from their home. His hand reached for Suzanne's, fingers intertwined in his hand. She gently twirled his wedding band. Lovingly, Jethro gazed into Suzanne's eyes. "You are the love of my life right now."

"You're the only one for me, Jethro."

"Come here, Sugar." Jethro reached over and kissed her, eyes closed. His tongue licked her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth a little wider.

The horns honked, jolting the couple to the current; cars waited impatiently to drive. Jethro groaned while Suzanne giggled, tossing her head against the seat. Smiling, he resumed the drive to their home, still holding Suzanne's hand. The First Lady was right, as Jethro reflected on the talk: he trusted Suzanne; she trusted Jethro. Successful, enduring marriages were based on mutual trust. Both were ready for a life that seemed to resemble a marathon—always on the run.

Williamsburg was Suzanne's hometown, so it was relatively easy to arrange a schedule for the President. Her job had many titles—assistant, personal aide, scheduler, researcher, and friend. She fulfilled each title well, particularly the assistant and scheduler. A few phone calls to the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, the College of William and Mary and the exclusive Kingsmill Resort, the weekend was all arranged. The President wanted to tour the historical grounds and play a round of golf. His speech for the College on Saturday afternoon was set, along with the necessary security measures.

As for friend, confidante of the President, Suzanne remained distant. The position was relatively new, a lot to absorb in four weeks. While she found a common thread with Linda, even Claudia, she struggled with her official job title: 'body woman.'

"You and Jethro look so happy together." The President commented, glancing at the screen picture on her tablet. Quickly, Suzanne touched her front screen. The picture was a computer enhanced carving on a tree—Jethro loves Suzanne.

"Thanks."

It was approximately 6:30. They reached the resort, settled into the suites.

"You can stay with us at the resort." The President suggested. Suzanne assisted with unpacking toiletries. "Some of the detail will share a room so you can have one."

"My mom lives in Williamsburg; I can stay at the house, save the taxpayers some money." Suzanne nodded no, with a smile on her face.

"How are you going to meet us?"

"There's a '66 Corvair at the house." Suzanne answered. "Electric Blue, new motor, and completely restored." She showed a picture to the President.

"The Soul Special…named after my dad." Suzanne smiled with pride. "It was the last car we restored together. It's been sitting in the garage for over two years."

"Muscle car…" The President chuckled. "I never pictured you as a car enthusiast."

"There's a lot you do not know about me, Mr. President."

"Such as...?"

She immediately diverted the conversation from her personal to official business.

"I packed your family photos, ordered some brownies from the Carrot Tree." Suzanne pointed to the packages. "My mom ordered them, making sure no one tampered with the recipe, if you know what I mean."

"When it comes to speaking about yourself, you're very modest." Suzanne nodded. "The first intimate picture you show…is a car!?"

"I restore classic cars, no big deal." She grinned. "I drove a 25 year old jeep until July—my dad's old car. Got into a car accident and totaled it." She flipped through the tablet and showed the President her present car—"Trey," the Karmann Ghia. "This is the car I did by myself. Daddy supervised. It took me two years to do it."

"It's beautiful."

"I took shop classes at the community college when I was 15—learned some stuff about cars." Suzanne admired her handiwork. "Not afraid to get my nails dirty."

Her cellphone chimed, the message 'I'm here' appeared.

"That's my ride." She retrieved her bag, heard the single honk. It was her mother, Susan, with the Mercedes.

"I'll swing by 05:30, Mr. President." She placed her bag around the shoulder. "If you need anything, you have my number."

"I might need you if the beast breaks down." The President requested, smirked.

"Good night, Mr. President." Suzanne smiled and waved as she opened and closed the suite door.

Williamsburg was a successful trip, an ice-breaker for the two who would eventually spend more time with another than their spouses.

"Get ready for California in 10 days." The President advised his new aide. "You're going on the junket. You're ready."