Welcome to romantic fiction serial White House Rhapsody. Love in the White House? Who would have thought. Join us as President Mark Jerguessen and his aide World Affairs Advisor Sharon Wheatly try to navigate a relationship. Click here to read a synopsis of the whole story that’s been blogged so far.
And next week, a new Operation Quickline story starts, Paths Not Taken.
The day only got worse. Sharon hid in her office because she just couldn’t face the solemn looks on all the faces of the West Wing staff. Late that afternoon, copies of several checks from Mark to Sharon went viral. The amounts were trivial, but it was still money changing hands, and as several reporters reminded Jean Bouyer, Mark had once described that as the only reason to poke into his love life.
Jean responded that many of the West Wing staff ran errands for the President. If there were checks involved, it was because Sharon didn’t use money transfer apps after having been hacked more than once.
Sharon couldn’t wait to go home and hide. But she arrived to find a crew of paparazzi camped out on the sidewalk across the street from the townhouse where she lived. The Secret Service guards helped her up the stairs of the stoop, and Carla, Sharon’s friend who actually owned the townhouse, opened the door quickly.
The only good part was that Mark was already there inside. After they made and ate dinner, inviting Carla to join them for the meal, Carla went upstairs and left the two cuddling in the living room.
“Sharon.” Mark trembled slightly as he held her. “If you want to run screaming, why don’t you? I can’t blame you at this point. It’s gotten far worse than I ever thought it could be.”
Sharon choked. She knew what it had cost him to say that. Still, she paused, thinking. It was tempting.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, thank you for giving me the option. I really appreciate that. But it won’t do any good to run. I’m no longer anonymous. That’s not going to change if I leave. I’ll always be the President’s prostitute. And you didn’t do that, so you can just stop feeling guilty.”
Mark laughed softly in relief. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”
“Besides.” Sharon frowned. “I can’t let your mother win. I go running, and she’ll always have one on us. The best way to get back at her is to be with you, making us both perfectly happy together. Which I am when I’m with you.”
Mark laughed loudly and for the first time that day, both felt the tension drain from them.
The next day, with a press conference set up at one that afternoon, the mood in the West Wing was somewhat optimistic. Until it started making the rounds that an unnamed, but reliable source claimed to have heard sexual activity in Sharon’s office more than once.
At one o’clock, Mark stepped up to the podium in the press room. Sharon stood in the press office behind, watching the video feed of the conference
“Please be seated,” he said quietly and waited while the crowd of reporters who could sat down. “I will not be taking any questions directly today. The chat feed will be open and Ms. Bouyer will be monitoring any questions, and may pass some on to me on my screen here. However, I am not inclined to say anything beyond my prepared remarks. To be blunt, I am not happy. For the past couple of weeks, a valued member of my staff has been subjected to a series of baseless, mean-spirited attacks on her integrity. It is bad enough that her work for me has been hamstrung by these ridiculous rumors. But I am proud to call Sharon Wheatly my friend, and do not take lightly that these attacks have hurt her. Sharon Wheatly is one of the most compassionate, intelligent, and honorable people I know. In addition, these attacks don’t even make sense. For example, the size of her office. Yes, there are a few more square feet in it, but it is so awkwardly laid out, with not even six feet between the door and the back wall, that you can barely move around. And I know several of you know that to be true, because you’ve been in there. As for the Secret Service giving Ms. Wheatly a ride to work, it is part of a security protocol that was enacted when a credible threat against her safety was made. Ms. Wheatly told me personally last week that she’d much rather be taking the Metro to work. I’m not going to say anything about the checks…” He paused suddenly and peered at the screen on his podium.
Sharon gasped at the photo that had come up on the feed in the press office. The check, written out to her, was for $3000. In the bottom corner was the memo, “ring.”
“That was not the check he wrote,” she whispered.
At the podium, Mark laughed. “For crying out loud. That image has clearly been tampered with. Ms. Wheatly’s name, the memo, and my signature are in my handwriting. But the written amounts are nowhere close to my writing, and look at the top amount box. Obviously, someone has squeezed in an extra zero and added a three.”
Inside the press office, Jean shuddered. “They’re asking about the memo notation. Do you know what that is?”
Sharon’s heart froze. “Yeah, I do.”
Carlynn, who was standing next to Sharon looked at her.
“We’ve got to announce,” Sharon whispered to Carlynn.
Carlynn nodded.
“Jean, I need your keyboard,” Sharon all but pushed the dimunitive press secretary out of the way and typed quickly.
Mark saw the words flash on his screen, “We need to tell them what the note is.” He stopped and looked back at the press office.
“TELL THEM,” flashed the words. “OR I WILL!”
Mark stepped back, wanting desperately to chuckle. Instead, he pulled his face into a scowl.
“I am not finished with this by a long shot,” he said. “However, I have to end this conference now. We will reconvene tomorrow at the same time. Thank you.”
Mark strode from the podium and into the press office.
“Mr. President, what’s going on?” Jean Bouyer squeaked, scrambling after him as he continued on.
“No comment. None.” Mark pointed at Sharon and toward the Oval. Sharon grabbed Carlynn’s arm and the two followed the president, Sharon scooting on her roller as fast as she could.
As they careened into the outer office, Mark turned to Kent, his administrative assistant.
“Kent, cancel the rest of my day, and get a new press conference set up for tomorrow at one.” Mark started for the door to the Oval Office.
“But, sir!” Kent scrambled to his feet. “Ms. Washington wants—”
“Tell her I said that I am not to be disturbed, and if I am, there had better be missiles involved.”
“Yes, sir!”
Mark looked back at Sharon and Carlynn and gestured for them to follow him into the office. Once the door was shut, he sighed and looked at Sharon and Carlynn.
“I thought we were going to let the rumors half-life,” he said, sliding onto the office couch.
“They’re not going to.” Sharon swallowed. “It just hit me when I saw that check. The rumors are not going to half-life and especially not now when she knows you’re angry about them.”
Mark shut his eyes and nodded. “What makes you so sure?”
“They keep coming up with new things to throw at us.”
“I know.” Mark looked at Carlynn. “Are you okay with us announcing?”
“It’s not my choice.” Carlynn shrugged. “It’s not optimal. On the other hand, Ms. Wheatly does have a point about them throwing more and more stuff at you. We can make it work.”
“We knew when we got into this that we might not be able to announce the way we wanted to,” Sharon pointed out.
“True.” Mark shook off the tension. “Okay, Ms. Dobbs. Thank you and get your strategy together. Maybe an expert or two on office romance.”
Carlynn smiled. “Already have a couple. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
“Thank you. You’re dismissed.”
Mark and Sharon waited while Carlynn left.
“Are you sure about this?” Mark asked her.
“No.” She smiled at him. “No way, no how.”
“Good. I’m not either.” He got up and started pacing.
Sharon watched, growing worried. “Why did you end the conference?”
“So we can tell our families ourselves.”
“Oh.” Sharon slid onto the couch. “I don’t think I’d want them to find out from the news.”
Mark rubbed his forehead. “Which means we’d better figure out who needs notifying and when.”
They looked at each other and suddenly laughed. Mark picked up a tablet and stylus from his desk, then sat down very close to Sharon.
As they worked, Sharon got a text from her brother, Michael, that he and the others would be at the townhouse soon. The others meant Inez Santiago, his life-partner, his two daughters, Toby and Jodi, plus Jodi’s best friend, Tiffany, Sharon’s sister Susan and her life-partner Max, as well as Sarah, the youngest sister.
“Why are they coming?” Mark asked.
“To help support me in my hour of need. Michael has already talked to his publicist about the whole problem and has ideas.”
“Good lord.”
“Welcome to my family.”
Mark smiled and squeezed her. “Can you tell him to be at the townhouse at six?”
“I can, but he has no sense of time, so they’ll be there when they get there, which will be soon, according to this.”
“Let’s get June and Matt over there, then. We’ll tell all of them together.”
The planning went on, then the two top priority phone calls were made. Sharon’s mother, Madeleine Fauvrillet was delighted with the news, and went to fetch Sharon’s father.
“Come talk,” Maman said through the phone’s speaker. “Sharon and Mark are getting married.” There was the sound of low voice asking something. “Of course that Mark. Who else?”
Mark and Sharon spoke briefly with her father, then moved on to call Mark’s father. Thomas Jerguessen was pleased, but a little worried.
“It’s your mother,” he told Mark.
“We know,” Mark sighed. “But Sharon knows what she’s up against.”
“After this week, I don’t doubt it. Welcome to the family, Sharon.”
Sharon texted Carla with the news of the impending party, hoping her friend wouldn’t mind. Carla texted back that Michael had already contacted her, then asked about dinner. Sharon and Mark agreed to make it.
Mark sat back and grinned. “You know, I’m finally getting excited about this.”
“I am, too.”
Mark sent Sharon off to go home while he collected ingredients from the upstairs kitchen. Sharon spent several minutes dodging co-workers, then several more waiting for her Secret Service car. By the time she got helped up the stoop at the townhouse, the crowd of paparazzi going even crazier, she was not surprised to see Mark already in the kitchen prepping vegetables for salad and ground beef for chili. She was also relieved that the two had beaten everyone else there, but it was a short reprieve. Susan and Max arrived first, with Susan complaining about all the cameras out front catching her being helped up the stoop with her braces and crutches.
“What’s he doing here?” Susan said as she saw Mark in the kitchen.
“Helping me get dinner ready,” Sharon said.
“Uh, hi, Mr. President,” Max said, nervously. He’d met Mark before at Sharon’s townhouse. But as a reporter for the major Washington paper, Max still felt a little uncomfortable around Mark socially.
“Just Mark is fine,” he said, grinning. “I’m off duty.”
Not that Susan and Max had done anything to formalize their relationship, but Max was as good as family to the rest of the Wheatlys. Sharon bit her lip. They’d all have to get used to Mark as just another family-member.
Sharon didn’t get much time to think much about it, though. June, Mark’s sister, and Matt, his nephew, arrived full of questions which neither Sharon nor Mark answered. Then there was almost complete chaos as Michael and his crew arrived.
“You’d think it was an awards show out there,” Michael complained, then stopped as he saw Mark. “Do they know he’s here?”
“No, and I don’t want them to,” Sharon snarled. “We have a special hidden way in and out of here and we’d like to keep it that way.”
“All right.” Michael sighed, then looked around, scratching his curly blond hair. He was a tall man and relatively buffed-out. “We should probably start talking about strategy.”
“Why don’t we get settled down to dinner first?” Sharon said.
“But…”
Mark laughed. “Sharon’s got the right idea. This should be done in a few minutes. Matt, Jodi, come help set the table.”
June suddenly grinned.
“I think I know what’s going on,” she whispered to Sharon as they worked on adding leaves to the dining room table.
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Sharon hissed, grinning back.
Carla insisted on Sharon sitting at the head of the table, and Mark sat next to her. As soon as the wine was poured and everyone began eating, Michael started in.
“We’ve got to get some strategy going,” he said. “This has gotten way too out of hand as it is.”
“Well, brace yourself,” Mark said with a happy glance at Sharon. “It’s about to get even more out of hand.”
“Hard to imagine that,” Sarah said with a chuckle.
Mark picked up Sharon’s hand. “Sharon and I are engaged to be married.”
“No!” groaned Toby, who had a serious baby crush on Mark.
“I knew it!” June yelped, grinning.
Mark looked at her. “What?”
“I caught you two necking last Christmas.” June smirked. “It looked pretty serious.”
The rest of the table, while shocked, laughed happily and seemed nervous at the same time. Except Michael, who first glared at Mark, then looked worriedly at Sharon.
“Are you sure?” he asked his sister. “After all those years about getting too close to being famous.”
“I’m absolutely sure.” Sharon looked fondly at Mark. “I can’t help it. I love him and want to be with him.”
“And I love Sharon.” Mark smiled at her, then the rest of the group. “It wasn’t anything we planned or even wanted, but it happened.”
“Okay.” Michael still looked nonplussed. “How are we going to spin this one?”
“I’ve already got somebody very good working on that part,” Mark said with a laugh. “And the spin thing? That’s kinda what I do, you know.”
Matt grinned. “So, Aunt Sharon. That’s for real now.”
“Yeah, Matt.” Sharon beamed at him.
“And I can call you Uncle Mark!” Jodi gasped, giggling.
“Yeah,” said Mark. “Officially as of tomorrow. You, too, Tiffany and Toby.”
There was plenty more conversation and musing. Michael wasn’t entirely settled with the idea, but couldn’t really argue, either. Everyone was sworn to secrecy, and would be at the White House the next afternoon to avoid the initial rush of press attention. Michael called his parents, and began putting together a statement on behalf of the rest of the family, which caused quite a loud argument.
Finally, everyone except Carla and Mark left. Carla went to her room. Mark spent the night at the townhouse, glad that he would finally be waking up next to Sharon for the rest of their lives.
Max Epstein, Washington columnist, dropped into the White House Press Office right around noon that next day. He pushed Susan in her wheelchair to the narrow doorway.
“That’s my cubicle over there,” he said, pointing to the crowded group of desk-bearing stalls. “And that way’s the press room, where they do the press conferences.”
“Nice,” Susan said, trying not to sound too bored.
“Hey, Max,” Dwayne Pulido, a heavy-set man with graying black hair, wandered up. “Getting in early for the big presser?”
“Nah. Just showing my squeeze here where I work,” Max said jovially.
“Squeeze?” Pulido looked at Max.
“That’s me,” said Susan. She smiled with the kind of sweetness that made it very clear how annoyed she was when Pulido finally deigned to look down at her. “I object to full-grown women being called girls.”
“Oh.” Pulido smiled uneasily, then focused back on Max. “So what do you think we’re looking at today? The smart money says ol’ Jugsy got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”
“Doesn’t sound that smart to me,” Max said as Susan sniggered.
“Nah. He’s a nice guy, so they’ll cut him some slack. Besides, Wheatly is such a babe. No one will blame him.”
“Fascinating,” Susan said. “I was under the impression that Neanderthals were extinct.”
Max laughed out loud, then pulled Susan away, heading to the hallway with the private elevator to the upstairs residence.
“Thank God you didn’t show off your all areas pass,” Susan grumbled, touching the laminated card that hung from a red, white and blue lanyard around her neck.
“I am not that stupid.” Max chortled. “It would have been cool, though.”
Susan and Max had been the first of the family members to arrive, via a back way and in Secret Service cars with blacked-out windows. Mark and Sharon greeted them, but were too busy gathering the staff together to let them know what was coming in the press conference to spend any time chatting.
As the other members of Sharon’s family arrived and were given their passes, they made their way upstairs to the residence, where a video feed from the press room had been set up.
Right around twelve-thirty, Mark made a phone call from the Oval Office to tell his mother that he was going to announce his engagement to Sharon at the conference.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Rose said, the frost creeping into her voice. “I know what she’s really like.”
“No, you don’t, Mother. You know nothing about her. And you can pretend that you’re just trying to protect me, but we both know that’s not what you’re doing. So stop with the mud-slinging, or I will be slinging back. And it’s going to stick to you. I’ve got the court records to back me.”
Mark heard the slight catch on the other end of the line and smiled grimly.
“My own flesh and blood,” she said, finally, her voice filled with feigned hurt. “I have done nothing but care for you.”
“And it’s been such an interesting way of doing it. Goodbye, Mother.” Mark hung up and took a deep breath.
Sharon was waiting for him in the press office. He smiled as he thought of her. Yes. The chance was worth it.
Again, right at one o’clock, Mark strode into the press room and up the stairs to the riser at the end of the room, then settled behind the podium. He still looked solemn, and curtly invited everyone to sit.
“Thank you,” he said when everyone was settled. “We’re going to pick this up pretty much right where we left off yesterday. Except that I will reiterate that Sharon Wheatly is not only kind, compassionate, and very giving, she is also incredibly intelligent and has no need to trade sex for favors. Nor has she done so. These rumors are not about holding my administration accountable for our actions. They are about being mean and unfairly hurting somebody who has done nothing to deserve it.” He paused and shifted. “Now. The memo on that falsified image. Yes, I wrote the original check. As I pointed out yesterday, the payee, memo, and signature are all in my handwriting. However, the check was only one-hundred dollars and was written to reimburse Ms. Wheatly, who had a ring sized at that approximate cost the day before the fire at the hotel. I reimbursed her because I had given her the ring and asked her to take it to a specialist in antique jewelry. And I gave her the ring because shortly after the New Year, Ms. Wheatly and I decided to become engaged to be married.”
Mark waited for the shock to subside, then smiled, gratified by the level of rumbling through the room. Clearly, no one had anticipated that one. He put up his hand.
“I know you’ve all got questions,” he said. “We’ll get to them and you’ll be able to ask them directly. But I want to emphasize one thing. Yes, we kept our relationship quiet for a lot of reasons, not the least being to respect and keep Ms. Wheatly’s privacy. But this is a fully consensual relationship between two committed adults. Now, having said that, would you like Ms. Wheatly to join us?”
The reporters roared their approval and scrambled to their feet, applauding, as Mark walked over to the stairs to the riser. Sharon came out of the press office on crutches and Mark smiled as he helped her up the three stairs. She flushed as he led her to the podium, but couldn’t help looking fondly at him.
Mark turned to the press corps. “Now, given that Ms. Wheatly is giving up her anonymity to be with me, the least I can do is make it clear that she does not have to answer any questions she doesn’t want to.”
Sharon held up her left hand. “And here’s the ring.”
A soft chuckle rippled through the room.
“Now. Questions,” said Mark.
“Will Ms. Wheatly keep her job?”
“Oh, Lord, I hope so,” Mark sighed.
“We talked about that.” Sharon looked at him, mock severely, even though she knew that Mark was implying that she had the option to leave her job. She turned back to the reporters. “Yes, I will be keeping my position as World Affairs Advisor.”
“Ms. Wheatly, the president just now pointed out, and we have talked about how much you prefer your privacy. And yet you’re marrying possibly the most public person in America.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sharon shrugged. “That whole president thing has been quite the disincentive. The problem is, as I got to know and befriend Mark Jerguessen the man, I came to love him. He’s a very special person, and incredibly intelligent and generous. It just happened.”
“How long has the relationship been going on?”
Sharon looked at Mark, who nodded. “Long enough.”
Mark bent to the mikes. “We’re not going to be sharing many of the details of the relationship itself. Sharon’s privacy.”
“Ms. Wheatly, can you verify that there was no coercion?”
“Oh, there was plenty of coercion,” Sharon said, grinning.
“What?” Mark gaped.
“Not from the president.” Sharon held up her hand. “I want to make that clear. The coercion was entirely from the rest of the West Wing staff. In fact, this morning one of them mentioned that she’d told some of you on background about the conspiracy to get me and the president together.” Sharon took another breath. “The coercion question is a legitimate concern. And the other night, the president gave me the option of leaving. However, there is no way he could coerce me into a relationship or anything else I don’t want to do. See, the thing is, I do not need my job. I love it. I want to keep it. But I can actually make more money in the private sector, and after working here, I’d be able to get plenty of offers of employment. Even if the president somehow scuttled that part, it wouldn’t matter, because I have enough money invested and saved to take early retirement. And besides, if this were a coerced relationship, why would we be standing here talking about getting married?”
“How do you answer the report of sexual activity in Ms. Wheatly’s office?”
Mark and Sharon looked at each other. They’d expected the question, and had struggled with how to respond to it.
“Technically, today’s announcement should make the issue moot,” Mark said, then held up his hand. “However, we get that there’s room for concern about respect for the work environment, and that office romances carry with them considerable room for abuse. Which is why this will be the closest we will come to talking about what goes on between us.”
“We have no idea what’s behind that part of the rumors,” Sharon said. “There was nothing for that unnamed source to hear except a little kissing.”
“So either the source misinterpreted what they heard,” Mark continued. “Or the report was a complete fabrication. We don’t know. Next question.”
“Mr. President, during the campaign, you made it clear multiple times that the last thing you wanted to do was get romantically involved. What changed?”
“Sharon Wheatly walked into my office.” Mark chuckled. “I had to hire her because she was clearly the best candidate for the job, but neither of us wanted to get involved romantically. In fact, we actively avoided it for as long as we could. But as we got to know each other and became friends, I couldn’t help it. I fell in love with her. She is an amazing woman, and I am just so lucky that she’s willing to put up with all the public nonsense to be with me.”
“And I’m incredibly lucky and honored to know and love Mark Jerguessen. He is possibly the most generous, loving man I’ve ever met.” Sharon blinked her eyes, then cleared her throat and looked at him. “I think we’ve been nauseating enough to make our point.”
“I fully agree.” Mark gave her a quick squeeze. “I think we will adjourn this conference and let the pundits have their fun.”
The reporters scrambled to their feet and applauded loudly. Mark helped Sharon off the riser, happy that the applause was more heartfelt than it often was. Sharon flushed again, realizing that while the standing and applause was the correct protocol for the president, it was also the correct protocol for the president’s wife, which meant her.
Jean Bouyer immediately reappeared in the press room and introduced Eddie Cooper, who tried to take credit for getting Mark and Sharon together.
“Geneve is going to have something to say about that,” Sharon said, as she and Mark watched from the press office.
Geneve de Cresy, the president of France, had befriended Mark and Sharon separately years before, and had not only been wanting to set them up, but during Mark’s visit to France the previous fall, had made a brazen attempt to do so.
Michael followed Coop in the press room, and made a pretty predictable and nice statement on behalf of Sharon’s family, welcoming the president to their clan. June took her turn, welcoming Sharon to her family.
Shortly after, Mark and Sharon went up to the private residence to celebrate with their family members. Solly, the White House chef, insisted on making dinner for everyone, gloating the entire time. Sharon took one call from Geneve, who also gloated.
Mark and Sharon were utterly relieved when everyone decided to leave. It was at long last, time to focus on each other and try to forget that anyone would care about them getting married.
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