The Conversation

~A landing and a piece of reluctant news~

Night sky stretched out in a blanket of stars above the French Caribbean island. Lights marking a small private runway blinked to life. Above the sand and water a Gulfstream G800 circled the small airfield. The air traffic controller in the tower came to life granting permission for the private jet to land. A line of black SUV's pulled out of one of the T-hangers that lined both sides of the airfields only taxiway.

Descending from the few clouds that floated in the sky the jet made it's approach touching down with a squeak of it's wheels on black asphalt. Moonlight glistened off the sleek fuselage as the jet rolled down the runway and onto the taxiway coming to a stop a hundred feet in front of the line of SUV's. A door in the side of the jet folded away from the fuselage revealing a set of stairs on the other side. Slowly the door extended down to the concrete below in a arching half circle. Two women dressed in button down blouses, upscale blazers, and pleated suit pants descended the stairs.

Stepping from the stairs each of the Secretary's aides took stations on opposite sides of the rope railing extending back up to the plane. From where the aides had a appeared a second before the former Secretary of State stepped into the warm tropical air beside her daughter.

Her breath was coming a little too quick. Stopping mid-step she paused to take a large inhale of the airconditioned air inside the massive beach house. She had delivered what she had thought would be bad news to him before. He wasn't the type to murder the messenger. He was more likely to take his frustration to his social media. But, this news felt different. He had come here for an escape, a breather. With the DOJ announcements and Desantis making noise in Florida and now Nikki Haley getting in the fight the last few weeks had been tough for him.

She crossed the room and placed her hand on the bronze handles of the glass doors leading to the large deck extending fifty feet out from the house. Opening the door she stepped into a breeze blowing in off the Atlantic. She looked to where the former President was standing. He was alone at the railing. His back was to her. A hundred yards beyond him the Ocean rippled against the shoreline in tiny crashes.

At seventy six he was still an imposing man. He had put on more weight in the last year, but she thought he carried it well. Starting forward again she navigated past the furniture that was laid out across the sanded wood planks of the deck. As her steps carried her closer to him she went over in her mind what she would say. Reaching the table just behind him she picked up a pitcher of ice water and refilled the glass that was sitting empty on the edge of the table. Placing the pitcher back where it had been she picked up the glass and found her voice.

“Sir." He turned around to face her.

"You're still here? I didn't think you'd be back tonight, Rachel." Looking down he took the glass from her and added. "Thank y0u." Before taking a large drink of the filtered water. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She knew he would be upset with her if she hesitated. He was a straight forward man and expected no less from his staff.

"We know who the VIP is at the neighboring property, Sir." He smiled his big Trump smile at her.

"Stop with the all the formality. It's Donald, I've told you that. Who is it? Invite them to dinner. They'll love it. Who doesn't want dinner with a former President?" She shifted again. This was it, she thought. Here goes the bad news.

"It's Secretary Clinton, sir." The news took him by surprise only for a brief instance before he recovered. She watched him on bated nerves. For the first time she could remember she was completely lost as to how he would react to something she had said.

"Inviter her to dinner."

"I'm sorry, what sir?"

"Inviter her to dinner. I never liked her, but I respected her. Dinner would be a good idea. It'll be perfect. I only wish Joe was here to join her. Then we could all sit down together. I can tell you Hillary and Joe would never invite me. But, I'm really a nice person. Not a lot of people know that, Rachel. You know that." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "The Fake News would go crazy if they knew."

"Are you sure this is what you want, Donald?” He moved his hand from her shoulder.

"Finally, called me Donald. And, yes let’s see if she has the courage to come. I don't think she does. But, let’s see, maybe she will." Then he turned back away from her to face the ocean once more.

~An arrival and a waiting game~

A line of Black SUV's made their way up the small road that stretched between the two largest properties on the island. The sun sat a couple feet above the ocean in the distant horizon of the afternoon sunset. Under an agreement reached between the former Secretary's and the former President's teams a sweep of the rooms the Secretary would be entering was conducted. After confirming all areas where the Secretary would be were free of listening devices and the closed circuit television cameras had been turned off the members of her security detail who had done the sweep returned to the SUV parked just behind the one in the lead and opened both doors on the passenger side of the vehicle.

Huma Abedin stepped out of the front seat and walked around the rear door extending her hand to former Secretary Clinton. Hillary took Huma's hand in hers and stepped from the SUV wearing a yellow version of the pant suits that had become a signature part of her trademark look. Speaking to Huma she said.

"This has got to be a mistake." Huma smiled, and said.

"We haven't gone in yet." Hillary let go of her hand and looked up at the two story beach house.

"I've spent my whole life refusing to be intimidated by men, especially this one. I'm not going to start now." With that she started walking toward the front entrance where the former President's house staff were already holding the doors open for her.

Former President Trump sat behind his desk aware that Hillary had arrived. He honestly didn't know how the dinner would go. He had stayed purposely where he was. Refusing to go over to the window to look out. He wouldn't risk her seeing him. Everything was a negotiation and he wanted the upper hand. He revisited the moments of the campaign they had shared and the criticism she had given in the years since. He thought of the quote the media had played in the weeks after their election. "He knows he's an illegitimate President." When Hillary had said the 2016 election was stolen the media had lauded her. They had vilified him when he had said the 2020 election was stolen. Standing up he straightened his suit. He stepped from behind the large desk and began to make his way down to the large dinning room on the first floor. He would ensure he took long enough that Hillary would be at the table at least a few minutes waiting for him before he arrived.

~First meeting and a fresh green salad~

White paint covered the surfaces of an oversized dinning room. Images of sailboats on the open ocean, wooden docks stretching out over water, and beach chairs sitting alone on empty beaches adorned three of the walls. The fourth wall consisted entirely of framed wooden windows from floor to ceiling over looking pale cream sand with patches of wispy grass grown tall on wind swept dunes. A path cut through the sand and grass led down to blue waves lapping the shore of the beach that stretched out in both directions around the entirety of the island.

Former Secretary Clinton sat with her chair pushed back from the white cloth of the elegantly adorned table. Her legs were crossed off to one side with her hands holding a white Valentino Garvani clutch in her lap. Her left foot tapped in a pair of black low healed pumps. Irritation was not the word for what she felt. Donald was always playing games. Why couldn't he just come down for what ever this was instead of making her wait. Really, she should of expected nothing less from him. The feeling she was going to regret this meeting echoed again in her mind. It probably wouldn't be five minutes after she left his beach house before he was on Truth Social posting Lock her up came for dinner.

Two bleached oak doors at the far end of the room opened. Rachel entered with former President Trump following behind her. Donald slid his phone into his suit pocket and turned his eyes to Hillary. He held her gaze as he walked across the room and she held his. When he arrived at the table she stood and extended her hand.

"Donald." He took her hand in his.

"Hillary." They both sat down looking at each other. Hillary moved her chair closer to the table and folded her hands together over a Bernardaud Louie XV dinner plate. Her elbows rested on either side of the plate. She looked for an instance at the white linen of the table cloth stretching between them and then took him in with her eyes. She found her gaze naturally drawn to his orange hair. She imagined in her mind the way she had done countless times before what that hair looked like in the morning before the hairdressers were brought in.

"I trust the staff has treated you well. They are very good. I would have to say the best on the island." Taking his eyes from her he looked out the windows to his right picking up his water glass at the same time. Taking a drink he followed the curve of the sand reeds as they swayed in the breeze. Across from him Hillary interrupted his thoughts when she spoke.

"What am I doing here, Donald?" He returned his eyes to hers.

"We were friends once. Before I ran. Honestly all the Democrats were, Republicans too. If I had asked you to dinner then you never would have asked that." She let out a breath of frustration.

"A lot has changed since then. You hadn't rolled out Lock Her Up yet." A small smile made it's way onto the corners of his lips.

"Three little words, so perfect. You really have to appreciate it. How many crowds do you think I had chanting that?"

"Too many, is that what your proud of." She leaned back and gave him her best dissatisfied stare.

"You weren't exactly nice. Not nice at all. Russia, Russia, Russia. You invented that. I had the whole government working against me. I still won. Landslide victory." She put her hands flat on the table and thought about standing up but changed her mind. He wasn't going to get the satisfaction.

"More people voted for me, Donald. Just under three million more people wanted me to be president. Personally I think they were right." He leaned forward.

"How many of those were illegals. They don't count. The real people not the ones who were dead voted for me." This time she did stand up.

"Donald, I didn't come here for this." He looked up at her. Then picked up his water glass again and took a long drink before saying.

“Please, Hillary sit down. We were friends once. I didn't like you after the election, but I respected you. You were much tougher than Biden. I still can't believe he won. He didn't win. They did so much in the election. You couldn't even detect all the fraud. It was really another landslide victory. They stole it." Reluctantly she sat back down.

"You know Donald, I didn't agree with everything that happened in our election. I've said publicly that it was stolen."

"When you said it the media loved you. They attacked me. They knew what happened. So much fraud. A real shame." She held up her hand.

"Please, let me finish. You can say the election was stolen. You can point to things you felt were corrupt. You can talk about changing electoral votes. I said all of that after the 2016 election. But, at some point you have to accept that it's impossible to prove. You have to realize you will never know and move on. That's politics. What you can't do is try to send a slate of alternative electors, crucify your own Vice President, and have your supporters riot at the Capital. Honestly Donald what were you thinking?" He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. He stopped himself from immediately going back at her. He deliberately took a minute to calm his breath and settle his nerves. When the tension had passed he leaned forward and said.

"Can you blame me for thinking it was stolen after everything you and others did. The Russia probe stole two years of my presidency. You knew it was a lie, you created it and you let it keep going. Perkins Coie those were your lawyers. That was shameful. The lies they told about me. The Charlottesville lie. The Fake News. Biden knew what I said. The perfect call with Ukraine. There really was nothing wrong with that call. What I did over there even if you believe I did everything they said I did. Which I know you do. It's nothing compared to what Biden and Hunter did. My entire Presidency was one attack after another. They blamed me for every Covid death. More people died under Biden in less time and they love him. Hapless Joe. I could have lived with it if you ran, if you were in office, but not Sleepy Joe. You have to see he's not there anymore. I don't know who's running the show in his administration, but it's not Crazy Joe." He stopped to take another drink of water. Hillary took the opportunity to interject.

"All of that may be true, but it still doesn't excuse what you did. What happened on January sixth. You may not have been involved in the planning, I'm not saying that you weren't but some of the rhetoric you used. You had to realize even if you weren't directly telling them what to do you had to know you were speaking to the most extreme of your supporters. I have to believe you knew something bad was going to happen that day." Her words were interrupted when a member of his staff entered the room with his chef. Walking briskly the pair made their way to the table. Two salad plates were placed on the table in front of them. A woman Hillary had not seen earlier entered the room carrying a tray of salad dressings in glass bottles. The former President's chef standing back from the other two staff members folded his hands in front of him and began.

"I have prepared a fresh green salad of.."

~The main course, diet coke, and wine~

The salad plates were cleared by more of his staff. Hillary picked up her glass of wine and thought of asking Donald if he had something stronger. He didn't drink but she had no doubt he had the most expensive bottles of whatever she could ask for on hand somewhere. In the decades she had known him she had learned that he had an insatiable need to say he had the best of everything. Putting the glass down after drinking half of the wine a different thought popped into her mind. A thought that she had often come back to in the times she did think of him. Looking up at him, she met his eyes, and asked.

"Why didn't you stop with twitter?"

"I'm going back. People are very excited. Elon and Mark are begging me to come back."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asked.

"The people want to hear from me. The fake news. The corrupt FBI, DOJ can't interfere. I can speak directly to my supporters. 87 million beautiful followers and I haven't posted yet. Imagine how many after I post. I'm planning something special. A big post. Bigger than anyone thinks."

"It's the reason you lost. All the mean tweets, the tantrums. That's why you lost suburban white women. You were your own worst enemy, Donald. You see that, right?" She paused briefly then went on. "I hate to admit it. I didn't like any of your policies. I stand in direct opposition of them, but the American People. Your policies were popular with them. The economy was going good. If you could have just acted more presidential." She stopped again studying him for a moment. "You still don't see it do you? You still can't find fault with yourself can you? It's all just Stop the Steal and Hunter's Laptop for you isn't it?" He leaned forward his hands resting palm down on the table.

"Hunter's Laptop" He drew out the words. Then he leaned back and began talking with his hands as he spoke. " They suppressed it. The FBI. They had an agent meeting with Twitter and Facebook every day. Very wrong. Never should have happened. Fifty former intelligence officials all lying in an ugly letter. Biden used it at the debate. Lied right in the debate. That's what I faced. So many wrong things. Devastating for America." She walked right over his response and kept going with her point.

"Look at Covid. You made a lot of mistakes, a lot of them, but you did a lot right too. You got a vaccine faster than had ever been done and no one cared because you wouldn't stop fighting with doctors who disagreed with you. The daily press conferences you just kept shooting yourself in the mouth. I mean, I know you didn't mean for people to take bleach, but asking doctors if they could find a way to inject it in people. Did you even think about it before you said it? Bleach kills almost anything including humans. If they could have made it safe they would have a long time ago. They would have done it during the Aids Crisis. It kills that too." She could see irritation growing in the lines of his face. "You were the biggest reason your polls stayed in the low forties. Every time they started to rise you came out like clockwork and gave them a reason to attack you." He was speaking almost before the last word left her mouth.

"We had really high poll numbers. The polls. You know the polls all undercounted my support. My numbers were much higher." Just then the doors opened and a member of his kitchen staff cleared their dinner plates while another refilled their glasses.

~Ice cream and goodbye~

Silence filled the room after the members of his staff disappeared back behind the doors leading to the kitchen. The former president reached forward and took a drink from his Diet Coke. Outside the glass windows a flock of seagulls squawked. In the distance the sound of the evening tide coming in against the shore was audible. He put his glass down and looked at Hillary. This woman who had represented so many things to him. A friend, a competitor, a nemesis. He thought back to when she'd just been a wife, then a politician, a senator, a secretary of state, and almost a president. He considered her for a long moment before he spoke.

"I'm going to win. Twenty twenty four. Take America Back. I have to do it. I'm the only one who could do it I think." Hillary shifted across from him.

"Do you really want to go through that again. Why not let Desantis or one of the other's have it. It isn't so bad being out of the spot light. You can pop up and say something whenever you want and then go back away again. Let's be honest, Donald. You, me, Joe we're all too old to do this anymore."

"The doctors. They all say, and I agree. My health is so good. So much better than Bidens."

"Do you think he will be the nominee?”

"The documents. They could get him. I don't know. But, I think they could. I was president I could declassify, He wasn't. I look forward to it. If he's gone. Mayor Pete. No one votes for Mayor Pete. Kamala. Her first campaign was a disaster. So much worse than mine." Then he stopped. Her eyes were looking into his and it dawned on him. He verbalized the thought almost before he had finished forming it. "You should run. The people would love it. Nobody want's to see Joe run again. We were like gladiators in the arena. America respects that. Warriors. I think, I don't know, but I think it's likely I would win. By a bigger margin this time." A satisfied smile spread across his lips. Hillary gave a laugh across from him.

"No- no. I'm not running, Donald and I hope you don't either." He started to talk, but she raised her hand and he let her stop him. "I've enjoyed this. I didn't think I would. I thought I was crazy for coming, but I'm glad I did." She pushed her chair back and stood. "I think I'm going to leave, now. Thank you for dinner." He stood from his own chair. She turned away as he did and started walking toward the large doors members of his staff were already holding open for her.

"Are you sure? You could stay for dessert." Hillary didn't turn to look back at him. She walked through the doorway where Huma was standing, waiting for her. The former President watched her as she disappeared out of sight. Then he sat back down in his chair. He hated being alone. At least at this moment. He missed the rallies, Melania, Baron, but the last couple weeks had made it clear how tough the road ahead was going to be. He needed this time to regroup. A voice from behind him said.

"Should I bring in the ice cream sir?”

Yes, Mitch. That would be fine." Mitch left the room closing the doors behind him. The former President sat in his chair and thought about not running for a minute then pushed the thought from his mind and waited for his cherry vanilla ice cream.

~The end~

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