She doesn't know that I'm here, doesn't know that I've come back. Certainly doesn't know that I'm listening. That happens sometimes, even to Margaret. I came in through the other door, not through the outer office, something that I occasionally do. And the door that leads to her desk was open, as it always is when I'm out of the office, and I could hear her voice, could hear the conversation that she was having with Donna.

I did not mean to eavesdrop.

However, I could tell that she and Donna were in the middle of a lively conversation. And after all, I was only supposed to be in the office for a couple of minutes, picking up a file for a meeting. It's happened before that I've caught snatches of a conversation that she's having with someone, and the subject usually goes in one ear and out the other with me.

Not this time.

"Margaret, it's beautiful!" Donna's voice is breathless and admiring, and when Margaret replies, it's in a tone of voice that I don't think I've ever heard from her in all the years she's been working for me.

"Yeah." It's…I don't know…wistful, almost. Indulgent. And I can picture the smile on her face when she said it, and all of a sudden I'm curious about just what "it" is.

"And he just gave it to you? No reason, no explanation?" Donna sounds amazed now, curious, and I can picture her face too, the narrowed eyes, the furrowed brow as she tries to get to the bottom of the mystery. I know just how she feels.

"He was here for a meeting with Leo," Margaret confirms. "And he did the usual thing about not knowing my name…."

Things begin to fall into place now. For starters, there was only one person here so far today who would have been talking to Margaret before meeting with me. Compounded by the fact that it was the same person who never remembers her name, that I've heard her complaining about that since he started working with us, I now know who it was that they were talking about.

But what the hell did Bruno give her that has her and Donna talking like that?

And what the hell was he doing giving Margaret presents anyway?

"…And we went back and forth like that for a little while until Leo came out. And then he gave me the box. Told me someone told him to give it to me."

"Let me get this straight. Bruno Gianelli. He who has made a big deal since June about not being able to remember your name, who has been nothing but antagonistic to you since then, arrived today and gave you a gold necklace with your name on it and didn't offer a word of explanation?"

"Yes."

"Margaret!"

"What?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Do you really think that…" Margaret's voice is doubtful, and Donna cuts her off.

"What I think is that if Bruno Gianelli is spending this type of money on you then he's not doing it because he doesn't like you."

"Toby would kill you if he heard that statement."

"Bruno has a thing for you, I think grammar should be the least of your concerns," Donna replies dryly.

"I just…I don't know Donna. I mean… he's Bruno. You know?"

"Margaret, you hardly know him. He could be very sweet."

By this stage, I'm feeling more than a little knocked about by this whole thing. Bruno and Margaret? Margaret and Bruno? Talk about two people that I never would have put together in a million years. And hearing Donna put Bruno and sweet in the same sentence is enough to make me wonder if this is some strange stress induced dream.

So you can imagine what Margaret's reply does to me.

"Yeah."

The word on it's own wouldn't tell you much. However, the way in which she says it… put it this way, the last time I heard someone talk like that, it was Mallory and she was sixteen, talking about her high school boyfriend.

Except this isn't my daughter.

This is my…

This is Margaret.

It's not like she's lived the life of a nun since she's worked for me. I've heard her mention men that she's seeing, I've even met some of them at official functions or whatnot. But Bruno Gianelli?

Ever since the first day they met, there's been an atmosphere between them. Margaret was pissed at me because I'd made my own appointment to see him, a serious breach of her rules of office conduct. She may have taken that out on him, and the fact that he went out of his way to push her buttons, never remembering her name, making a point of reminding her of that fact didn't endear him to her either. I've heard the nickname that's going the rounds of the West Wing for Connie Doug and Bruno, and I made some inquiries about it. And as near as I can make out, it's Margaret who's solely responsible for the "Three Little Pigs" sobriquet. I don't mind telling you, I had a good laugh over that one.

Here's the thing though. I like Bruno. It's not like I have a deep desire to split a beer with him at the end of the day or anything like that, but he's a good man. Somewhere. Deep down. He's got one hell of a political acumen, he's sharp as a tack, and there's no doubt in my mind that he was the best man to get in to run the re-election campaign.

But the best man for Margaret? I don't think so.

He's older than her. He's abrasive, he's arrogant, he's abrupt. He pisses people off for a living. He's a workaholic, he travels constantly for his work, he's never in one place very long. And I've heard stories about the way he treats women.

He's nowhere near good enough for her.

And yet, here she is, talking about him with that sigh in her voice.

I don't mean to do it, I want to hear more about what she's thinking, what Donna's going to tell her to do. But all the same, I hear the word "Margaret!" coming out of my mouth at a high volume. Hear the intake of breath from her and Donna, hear Donna muttering her goodbyes. By the time Margaret comes in, I've made it to the other side of my desk and I'm rooting through the files there, looking for something.

"Yes Sir?" she asks me, and I lift my head to look at her, and I can't help but notice the way that her eyes are dancing, the slight hint of red in her cheeks.

"I need the memo for the thing," I tell her, more sharply than I intended, but she doesn't turn a hair, just moves over to the right-hand side of my desk, calmly extracting a file from the pile there and handing it to me. "Thank you."

She nods and smiles briefly. "Anything else?"

"Nah." I wave a hand and she nods once again, going back to her desk, leaving me to stare down at mine. I'm looking at the files, I'm looking at the shiny wooden surface, but all I can see is her smiling face, and all I can think of is that I've never seen her look that way before.

Bruno Gianelli did that. He put that smile on her face, that sparkle in her eyes. And when I walk out of the office, past her desk this time, I take a quick glance at her, only to see her holding a red box in her hand, looking down at it with that smile still on her face. She doesn't see me though, doesn't know that I'm there. She only has eyes for that necklace.

I have to swallow hard against the lump in my throat as I walk down the hall, and I tell myself that I don't know why I'm acting like this. I'm halfway to my meeting when I remember that it's because he's not good enough for her.

My hand is on the door when I realise that that's not it. It's not because he's not good enough for her.

It's because he's not me.