The coffee was terrific, too, a special blend made up by Kaladi Brothers, an Anchorage roaster. They called it the Ex-President’s Blend. You couldn’t buy it in stores. Kate had tried. She raised her mug, just to smell this time. It was coffee like no other, and Kate, an unabashed addict, was deeply appreciative. When she lowered the mug again, a thick wedge of pie was suspended in front of her. She was grateful there was a fork. She feared for her manners had there not been.

“Oh god, that was good,” she said, using her finger to scoop up the last bit of juice. “What gives it that tangy taste on the back of the tongue? Rhubarb and what else? I’ve tried and tried at home to get that flavor, but I never quite succeed.”

Ruthe grinned. “Trade secret.”

Kate sighed, putting her heart into it. It had no effect, other than another snort of laughter from Dina and a refill of her mug from Ruthe. Kate sat back, trying to look as mournful as possible, which wasn’t easy with a bellyful of Dinner by Ruthe.

“So what was it you wanted to talk to us about, Kate?” Dina said, lighting a new cigarette from the butt of the old one, and earning a reproving look from Ruthe, which got Ruthe precisely nothing.

Ruthe tucked herself neatly into the other recliner, looking like an advertisement for Eddie Bauer on a good day, and fixed Kate with an expectant look.

“I need your help.”

“What with?”

“It seems Dan O’Brian is too green for the current administration, and he’s being encouraged to take early retirement.”

Dina and Ruthe exchanged glances. “Pay up,” Dina said.

Ruthe sighed and unwound herself to fetch a smart brown leather shoulder-strap purse, from which she extracted a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over. Resuming her seat, she said in answer to Kate’s raised eyebrow, “I bet they would hold their hand until the midterm elections. Dina said it’d be before.”

“You mean you expected this?”