Choppy Water

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A platoon of Secret Service agents led Stone Barrington and Holly Barker from a service elevator and down a hallway, where they paused at a set of double doors.

“Ready?” Stone asked Holly.

“No,” she replied firmly.

“Take a few deep breaths,” he advised.

She did so, then shook her shoulders.

“Ready now?” he asked, reflecting that he wouldn’t be ready, either, if he had just been elected president of the United States.

“Is it too soon for me to resign the office?” Holly asked.

“Way too soon,” Stone replied. He nodded at the agent with his hand on the doorknob, and the man pushed the door open.

The crowd in the ballroom let out a noise that Stone thought happened only at riots. Holly took hold of his arm, and he led her toward the platform at the front of the room. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped. “Okay, you’re on your own now.”

She nodded, let go of his arm, and climbed the stairs.

Stone took a moment to look around the room and discovered that he was the only man there wearing a tuxedo. Who had not gotten the memo — them or him?

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