CHAPTER 107
First Lady Lindsey Grant had never understood when people complained about the pressures of playing hostess. It came so naturally to her, perhaps it was one of those things that had been built into her genes. Her tea parties had been the hit of the Malibu Beach Progressive Preschool and her birthday parties had been every teenage girl’s dream. It wasn’t that they were extravagant, it was their perfection that wowed everyone. Each person’s welcome gift had been small, elegant, and exactly what the person wanted but didn’t know they wanted.
And part of the joke had been that her mother was a terrible hostess. By eight years old, Lindsey was planning her parents’ corporate banker parties. By twenty-eight she orchestrated her Boston blue-blood husband’s functions as he worked his
