The stainless steel cable was cold and rough against my wrist. If I struggled I'd probably tear my wrist open on it. Then he put a turn of rope between my skin and the cable and I smiled at him in gratitude.Stretching my other arm out, he repeated the process, drawing me up tight, just as we'd measured and planned. I was "bar tight" as a sailor would say about a line under heavy load. I could barely wriggle, but I had to be careful. My feet weren't buried deeply enough in the concrete to really anchor them yet. "I'm about to pull out," I warned him. "Better finish the concrete."His muscles bulged, those muscles I so loved to run my hands over. I'd probably never get to do that again, I realized with a shock, the reality of what was coming suddenly hitting me. The thought made me shiver as he tilted the wheelbarrow, a thick wave of concrete slopping into the tub.If I hadn't been anchored to the stays I might have been knocked off balance by the sudden weight. As it was it felt as if. There was no way I was abandoning her care to strangers, even if they were the best vetted strangers in history.In my mind, Stacy was in the subordinate box. I could still recall one of my agents at DHS catching me looking at the nearly perfect rack on a secretary and saying, “You never take a dump where you eat, Mr. Secretary. But ... If I was inclined to violate that rule, those generous cushions would be just the ticket to get me to set aside my virtue. At no time did I consider Stacy Covington as a potential ... anything. She was the woman who kept things together for me, and that was that.But... Jennifer asked and whatever Jennifer wants, Jennifer gets. That was my motto. She gave up far too much for my career for me to even consider not finding a way to deliver on her wish.So I asked. “Stacy I want to know if you can head up the folks traveling to North Carolina next week. Jennifer specifically asked for your company and things always run smoother when you are around.”Her eyes.
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