THE IMPERIALS #3

The Ambassador and I

The Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of the United States of America

Madeleine Howell

Cordially Invites You to a Welcome Reception

Friday, July 20

17:00 – 20:00

The Residence

RSVP Required

Gretchen Godbold read the invitation with glee accompanied by a tinge of resentment. She enjoyed parties, and recalled fondly the occasions when she had been the hostess. She immediately pulled out a piece of her personal stationary complete with Counselor for Public Affairs; Gretchen Godbold elegantly scripted across the letter head and began to compose her reply.

Madam Ambassador:

The Ambassador and I have received your gracious invitation. Please accept this as our RSVP in the affirmative.

The Ambassador and I. Gretchen loved the sound of the phrase. Born and raised in Vienna, Austria, Gretchen had worked at the American embassy as a translator and economic analyst until meeting Kurt Godbold. Kurt Godbold’s wife, Sylvia, was plain and demure. A prim and proper Presbyterian minister’s daughter when she was on her meds, and a frigid shrew when she wasn’t. She was nothing like Gretchen: carefree and adventurous, conducting all aspects of her life with reckless abandon. If it wasn’t love at first sight, it was certainly lust at first sight. Their relationship was intense and torrid. Kurt soon filed for divorce, and sent Sylvia back to the States. Once the divorce was final, Kurt and Gretchen were married. She accompanied him on a variety of tours throughout the world. They cavorted through the capitols of Europe, mingled with the elite of Asian society, and enjoyed the colonial charms of Africa. When Gretchen’s US citizenship was granted she immediately applied for a position in the Foreign Service. They served together until Kurt was named Ambassador to the Republic of Sundland. It was a small post in a small country, but an ambassadorship was an ambassadorship. Gretchen took a leave of absence and played the role she had always dreamed of, the ambassador’s wife. She quickly gravitated to the center of Sundland society and reveled in the attention.

Ambassador Godbold’s career was cut short when he was declared persona non grata by the government of Sundland. No official reason was given, but rumors abounded, most consistently one concerning the ambassador and the prime minister’s wife. Gretchen pretended to know nothing about the rumor, but she did know how she became the current Mrs. Godbold. Whatever the finale, she was still an ambassador’s wife. Kurt retired and she returned to active service with a posting in Nordeland.

In her position as Counselor for Public Affairs Gretchen was responsible for promotion of U.S. national interests by increasing understanding of American society and values. She was the face of America to Nordeland. That was no small undertaking considering she had never lived in the U.S.

Section Chief

The soft afternoon air was filled with the scent of flowers as white dinner jacketed waiters circulated through the rear garden of the Residence delivering glasses of Cristal to the guests. Jané Leonard stood on the veranda, cigarette dangling from her mouth, surveying the crowd. All and all she would rather be elsewhere. At least the party was outdoors and she could smoke. And the booze was free. A waiter approached, caught her glaring eye, and made a wide detour. She brusquely marched down the steps and across the lawn to the gazebo bar. Another smiling waiter offering champagne was elbowed out of the way as she stepped behind the bar. Disappearing underneath she momentarily reemerged with a big smile and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red. “Pour,” she said.

“Madam?” the startled bartender asked.

“Over ice.” She quickly drank the first glass, sat it back down on the bar and said, “Again.” The alcohol radiated through her system, the euphoric sensation mollifying her sullen disposition.

Wynette’s cackle could be heard from across the courtyard over the noise of the party. That woman annoyed Jané. Wynette may have been her best friend in Nordeland, but on most days Jané could barely tolerate her existence. Wynette was too loud. Her voice. Her dress. Just too loud. Red hair, glasses with red tortoise shell frames, dark blue eye shadow and a pink seersucker suit. And that accent.  All too loud.

“And how are you tonight, Jané?” Gretchen asked as she approached the bar to exchange her empty champagne glass for a full.

“As well as can be expected,” Jané replied. Gretchen’s guttural, Germanic accent grated on her nerves more than Wynette’s hickish twang. It was like carrying on a conversation with the Terminator’s little sister.

“Oh Jané, you are always so funny. It is a beautiful evening. Nice weather for a party. The entire summer has been fabulous don’t you think.”

Jané didn’t think so. She hated Nordeland. The winters were dark and cold and during the summer it was light eighteen hours a day. Her embassy provided apartment was on the top floor of a turn of the century building with balconies overlooking the picturesque central plaza. Full of fountains and open green spaces, it was a gathering place for neighborhood children. Four stories above street level and she could still hear them. She did not like kids. If she had wanted the sounds of children playing she would visit her grandchildren. “Kurt does certainly seem to be enjoying himself,” Jané commented sarcastically having noticed the former ambassador across the garden paying an inordinate amount of attention to Anneli, a gorgeous blonde member of the local Nordish staff. Kurt was always on the prowl.

The flirtation had caught Gretchen’s attention also. With a sense of urgency in her voice she responded, “I had better find my ambassador and pay our respects to Ambassador Howell.”

“You need to do that,” Jané agreed.

Gretchen strutted off like a model on the catwalk to retrieve Kurt.

The attention of the crowd was drawn to the DCM who was standing on the veranda tapping her champagne glass with a spoon. Jané sat her glass back down in front of the bartender. “Again. More ice.”

The group, minus Jané, who never left her station at the bar, gathered on the lawn beneath the veranda as Chris began her welcome speech. Jané hated these events.

Tall, broad shouldered, and not particularly feminine or attractive, Jané had never had an optimistic outlook on life. It was if she had, as a child, sat down and made a conscious decision to be discontented. The Foreign Service was a second career for her. A second chance for unhappiness. She had retired relatively young after teaching high school History for twenty years. She had never been happy as a teacher. Retirement did little to improve her disposition. It just provided her more time to make her husband’s life a living hell. Divorce soon followed. She cleaned him out in court but he still got the best of the settlement. He got away from her. 

Alone, unemployed, and bored, Jané thought a change of scenery would be nice. Paris. London. Rome. Someplace nice where she could indulge her passion for history. And an interesting job. Something distinguished. She was tired of being just a teacher. She wanted something sufficiently suitable to her exceptional qualifications. Her first assignment was working the visa line at an embassy in the Caribbean conducting hundreds of interviews each day. Two years of mind numbing tedium. That was followed by two years in Africa, sweating and swatting at insects the size of Volkswagens. Not exactly the world changing experiences she had imagined. A series of somewhat menial postings followed until she was offered the Nordeland position. Finally, an assignment in a first world country. And Section Head to boot. A chance to make her mark. For once she would be in charge. Be the one telling others what to do. She was sorely disappointed when she arrived in country and found that her section consisted of a staff of two, a junior American officer and a local Nordean assistant, and the American position was not being filled due to personnel shortages. Another slap in the face by life.

**********

Also by E.C. Jacobs

THE COAST
Evan Stanley is a disillusioned insurance fraud investigator. When a friend is savagely murdered while investigating a claim, he is drawn into a journey of intrigue and suspense from which he may not return.

Evan likes his work but hates his job. He is an experienced Special Investigator for National Insurance Company, but management doesn’t like his attitude. While investigating a routine personal injury claim on the sultry Mississippi gulf coast, he inadvertently uncovers a conspiracy of corruption and murder. Traversing the back roads and bayous of the Deep South, from Biloxi to New Orleans to Memphis, Evan follows the trail through a storm of events to an explosive conclusion.