Melania had come up with the idea out of sheer boredom. For years, she’d had to walk from the White House, all the way across Pennsylvania Avenue, to Blair House, just to pay homage to some foreign dignitary who was too cheap to simply rent a Presidential Suite at one of her husband’s hotels. Instead, she had to continuously traipse to the Presidential Guest House to see Donald’s visiting dignitaries.
It was a nice enough house. At 70,000 square feet, it was actually larger than her executive residence at the White House. Not that she was ever there. It had a lovely Rose Garden, and the Treaty Room easily sat dozens at a beautiful mahogany table. For some reason, there was a picture of some old Chinese Dowager hanging in the room. Maybe she’d given some other president the elegant china they always ate from? Did they have a Tiffany’s in Hong Kong?
She couldn’t imagine what the staff, which included a general manager, two butlers, a doorman, four housekeepers, two chefs, a launderer, a curator, and several maintenance workers, did while nobody was visiting. This happened very often because her sneaky husband had found out that if two or more foreign visitors of equal rank were coming to meet with him, neither was invited to stay at Blair House to avoid the perception of favoritism.
Her new idea was simple. She’d have Donald change the name from Blair House to Melania House. I mean, if he could do it to Kennedy, he certainly could do it to somebody nobody had ever heard of.
Yes, some people would go bat shit. She didn’t care anymore. That year, a survey of scholars and historians released a report of their assessments of American first ladies. She has been ranked the worst of all the first ladies who have ever served. Even worse, she had received the lowest ratings in each category in which the women were scored.
She could care less. Melania knew it was because she was a foreigner, or maybe because she was the first Roman Catholic ever to be First Lady. (She’d heard something about Jackie Kennedy but had never really checked.)
It wouldn’t be hard to get Donald to do it. It wasn’t hard to get him to do anything. He was so similar to her father. Same age, same physical appearance. Also, as soon as they had started dating, she’d gotten a copy of Trump: The Art of the Comeback. The book had been gold. It had detailed exactly what “The Donald” wanted and needed from a female relationship. It became her bible, and she’d followed its instructions perfectly, and unlike the two other women who’d tried to hold on to him, she knew exactly what he wanted.
So, Melania House it would be. It was not only a great idea, but she was sure she could get Amazon to give her another $40 million to make a documentary comparing her building to Donald’s new ballroom.
