Hi! I am stuck at home with a cold and need something to do. As usual with me, expect a ton of updates frequently and then I'll take a break and come back eventually.

Reid's wife has recently become president of the United States. The joy of victory is short-lived as threats emerge from all directions. Sequel to "Chess, Love and Politics."

Risk, Family, and the White House

Chapter One:

"Daddy, based on Schrodinger's observations on life, what shape do you think I am?" Rachel asked.

"A hexagon," Reid said sweetly as he spooned more eggs on to her plate. "Because six is your favorite number."

"I don't believe we can be isolated to a single shape," Alex said as he cut his sausage. "I also think Schrodinger's Cat is beginning to lack relevance in the field of quantum mechanics."

Rachel started to say something but Miranda interrupted her.

"Kids, while you are both entitled to your opinions on Schrodinger's cat," she said. "The car is going to be here to pick you up in fifteen minutes. Can we discuss Schrodinger's cat another time?"

"Sure, mom," Alex said and smirked. "How about your latest security briefing on the movements of foreign troops?"

"Don't bother your mother with questions you know she can't answer," Reid said. "I will be meeting with the Boy Scouts of America today discuss achievement beyond the Eagle Scout."

"How boring," Alex said. "Don't you miss the days of hunting bad guys?"

Reid glanced at Miranda. "There is more to life than just chasing the next bad guy, son. It is important to choose what matters most."

Miranda smiled at Reid.

"Definitely," she said

Several minutes later the kids were gone and Miranda was laughing as she cleaned.

"I am the leader of the free world and still feel outnumbered intellectually by my kids."

Reid smiled. "You really thought that would change after you placed your hand on a Bible and solemnly swore to faithfully execute the Office of President?"

"Yes," she said. "I thought it would give me superpowers. Or at least an inflated sense of ego. Even that remains impossible."

"It has only been two weeks since we moved in dear," Reid said as he picked up his bag. "Give it time. Try to be home on time for dinner tonight. Remember J.J.'s family is dropping by."

"Right," she said. "See you later."

…

Fleming and Geena appeared after Miranda's security briefing.

Miranda sat back in her chair.

"If people only knew how close we were to the brink of war on a regular basis. I don't know how most presidents slept."

"I have no idea Ma'am," Geena said.

"So, is there anything I need to know about before we gather the rest of the staff to discuss strategies for getting some of my beloved environmental regulations passed?"

"Some of the staff still can't get their right bottom drawers open," Geena said. "Others are still complaining the lack of 'M,' 'R' and 'I' on their computers."

"Whiners," Fleming said.

"Juvenile," Miranda said. "It has been twenty years since that nonsense ended. Send the troops in."

She looked around the top of her desk. "What happened to my favorite pens?" she said. "I swear there are poltergeists in this place."

She opened the bottom right drawer and found an open file folder. Miranda nearly screamed.

She looked to Fleming who was still in the room watching her intently.

"Find Gina and tell her to call off the staff meeting. Make something up. I don't care."

Fleming quickly left without another word.

Miranda pressed her secret service panic button.

Agents immediately swarmed the room.

"My desk has been vandalized," she said. "And think I the same person or persons are responsible for the doing the same to the drawers in the West Wing."

She stepped away as agents approached her desk.

It was a mug shot of Reid from Mexico. She had seen on TV once or twice but never this closely. The dead look in his eyes. They were haunting.

As an agent carefully put the file in an evidence bag, a brown powdery substance fell out.

"It looks like I'm taking another shower today," Miranda joked.

She could guess what it was: Sand and dirt, possibly from south of the border.