Joe wasn't in the living room, nor the sitting room. She tried their bedroom and smiled as she saw the light spilling from the study; the small room adjoining their bedroom that had traditionally been the First Lady's dressing room.
She moved quietly across the bedroom, the carpet muffling all sound. She paused at the threshold, not wanting to startle him.
Joe was leaning back in the brown leather wing chair he'd brought from home. One leg propped across the other, ankle balanced on his other knee, binder open, pen poised, tie loose, sleeves rolled up. Just as she had imagined that night two weeks ago when she had devised the idea. That night when he'd been so frustrated that he'd snapped at her.
She leaned against the doorframe and smiled when she saw the navy blue mug with her own signature on the outside set atop his desk. Joe had insisted on bringing it from home to use in the White House. No matter how many times she told him he should use the presidential china while they had the opportunity he just smiled and kissed her and said that his drinks tasted so much better from the old navy and gold mug.
She once had wondered how he always seemed to have the same mug, at home in the kitchen, in his home office, even in hotels out on the campaign the mug kept popping up. She remembered asking him about it one night, they were out on the trail, they'd been rushing here and there, had barely seen each other for days and now they were finally in the same place, staying in the same hotel. It was like a mini vacation. They were so tired they'd just flopped down on the sofa and had lain into each other.
As she turned she'd caught sight of the mug on the small table. 'How is it that mug seems to be everywhere you are?' she asked him with a laugh. He ran his hand along her shoulder and smiled lazily.
'I've a confession to make', he grinned.
She peered at him. 'Oh, what's that?'
'I don't have one mug, or two. I've a whole box of them. I actually have two boxes and I've warned the staff that any stock not sold is to come to me', he told her.
She was incredulous for a moment and then realized that, if she'd given it any thought she should have been able to figure that out. It was such a Joe thing to do. Such a beautiful thing to do.
She'd smiled and laid back against him and he'd held her close and whispered to her. 'When I'm out on the road, away from you it just, I dunno, makes me feel connected to you. I know it's kinda silly, but I don't care', he said and she closed her eyes as he kissed her temple. She nestled even closer, her hand running along his side, coming to rest on his chest. 'It's not silly', she told him, 'it's beautiful and I can't tell you how much I love that you do it'.
She grinned now as the memory washed over her.
She knocked lightly on the wood.
He looked up. Immediately his face transformed from intense concentration to a broad smile.
'How's it going? Are you getting through it ok?' she asked, nodding towards the papers in his lap.
He stood and laid the bundle on his desk, raised his arms high above his head and stretched his back. 'Yeah, everything is going great', he answered, coming close to her now and slipping his hands around her waist. He dipped his head and kissed her.
'Thanks again for all of this', he said. 'It's perfect. I couldn't have asked for better', he told her.
She kissed him again 'You're welcome. I can't have the President working in substandard conditions, and my husband even less so', she teased.
He laughed and settled his hands against her back, fingers laced together. 'You're husband is a lucky guy', he said sincerely, looking into her eyes.
'He is!' she laughed. 'But I'm lucky too. Very lucky', she said, pressing her lips to his.
