The east coast was buried under four feet of snow, the White House festooned with Christmas décor, parked up with alien spaceboats — the latter crouched outside the President’s Patio, boarding lights scattering rainbows through flurries of particulate ice.

Pascal the elevated maroli welcomed guests at a side entrance, a red bow taped to his egg-shaped capsule, tentacles wiggling in delight — grav-lift pucks reflecting pine-wreath-green off a polished floor.

Planet Jivada’s furry Space Pope offered the opening prayer. A chamber orchestra played classical, liturgical, seasonal.

CH Banks executive Brandon Lopez asked President Carmen Benequista to dance, for the first time in their friendship.

They navigated the floor like thirteen-year-old cousins: shy, awkward, measuring the distance between them.

He studied his feet. She explored the anatomy of his back. They moved a little closer.

She said, “I should tell Robbie and Monica about the Saturn mission.”

“Do you want to fly out to the ranch?” Brandon watched his nephew-in-spirit glide past in lockstep with a young lady. “I’ll take you.”

“My grandkids are likely to flip out over meeting you.” Carmen tracked a black Armani suit and red silk tie in motion — sixteen-year-old Mason Fowlkes, poised beyond his years.

She formed an air dam with tongue and palate. “Ssst! Mason!”

“Have they been asking about me?”

“Oh, God yes.” Carmen threw her voice. “Who’s your girlfriend?”

Mason circled back, mischief in his eyes. “You are.”

His dance partner followed — petite, bright-eyed, bobbed hair, dress uniform. “Good evening, Madame President.”

Brandon said, “Lieutenant Marie Jourdain, French Air Force, Bricy Spaceport.”

Marie performed a curtsy. “I am concierge to Mr. Lopez’s forensics workshop at the base.”

Carmen took a step back. “Then you will be at risk come the middle of next week.”

“My landlady and I have already taken refuge aboard Anuraga.”

“Do I need to call your boss?”

“No, but thank you for asking. I am on indefinite leave.”

Carmen tapped Brandon on the hip. “I hate to meddle.”

He caught her hand. “You can if you want to.”

The young dancers skated away. Carmen leaned into the moment. Brandon touched her forehead with his lips.

He asked, “How do you feel about us getting off center?”

Champagne, mistletoe, good cheer notwithstanding ...

The kiss caught them both by surprise.

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