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honorable thing by calling David immediately to tell him about her discovery. She had been doing her best to stay ahead of an avalanche of paperwork and subpoena requests, and by her own admission, it sometimes took her a while to get through it all. I have not talked to Carolyn about the billing records or the investigation because I never wanted to be accused of influencing her testimony. But I trust her completely and know that her oversight was an innocent and understandable mistake.

Senator D’Amato’s committee immediately proceeded to look for evidence-never found-of obstruction and perjury in the discovery of the billing records. The committee immediately requested additional funding for a two-or three-month extension to complete its hearings, which had already cost taxpayers nearly $900,000. A few months later, the RTC filed a supplemental report confirming that the billing records supported my account of my legal activities. I certainly had no reason to conceal them and regretted that they had not been found earlier.

And so it went. The hearings and the media coverage continued, and every time I sat down for an interview with another radio host or morning talk show personality to discuss It Takes a Village, I was asked about the billing records. The only bright moments that month were my appearances in bookstores, schools, children’s hospitals and other programs supporting children and families around the country. The crowds were huge and the audiences warm and supportive, further evidence of the disconnect between Washington and the rest of the nation.

This disconnect is one of the reasons I wanted to write It Takes a Village. When I thought about the growing pressures on children in America, it struck me how ineffectual the increasingly partisan rhetoric in Washington was in solving the problems that these children face.

Many of my beliefs about what is best for children and families don’t fall easily into any category of politics or ideology, and a lot of the people I met on my book tour said that they felt the same way. The people who stood in line for hours didn’t want to talk about the most recent episode of mudslinging in the nation’s capital. They wanted to talk about how hard it is to find quality, affordable child care; the challenges of raising children without the support of extended families; the pressures of raising children in a mass culture that too often celebrates risky behaviors and distorts values; the importance of good schools and affordable college tuitions; and a range of issues weighing on the minds of parents and other adults in today’s fast-changing world. I was heartened by these conversations, and hoped that my book would help promote a national conversation about what is best for America’s children.

It Takes a Village offered information about ideas and programs developed at the community level that were making a difference in the lives of children and families. Often, a model program in one community isn’t replicated elsewhere because there are few channels for communication. A concerned group of parents in Atlanta, for example, might benefit from learning about an innovative afterschool program for at-risk teens in Los Angeles. I wanted to give visibility to successful grassroots efforts that would resonate in communities around the country. I also hoped I could generate royalties for children’s charities since I was giving all the author’s proceeds away. In the end, I was able to contribute nearly one million dollars.

My book tour also offered moments that were personally comforting. In Ann Arbor, Michigan, on January 17, dozens of people showed up at the bookstore wearing “Hillary Fan Club” T-shirts. Ruth and Gene Love, a retired couple from Silver Spring, Maryland, had started the club in their kitchen in 1992. There were hundreds of members around the country and a few international chapters. The Loves, aptly named, became wonderful friends who invariably seemed to know when I needed a boost. They would send out their “fans” to greet me with smiles, T-shirts and homemade signs when I traveled.

In San Francisco, James Carville hosted a dinner for me at a restaurant he had just bought and invited some of my closest friends to come, mostly to cheer me up. My freespirited friend Susie Buell said she didn’t follow all of the dramas going on back in Washington, but she did have something to say to me: “Bless your heart.” That was all I needed to hear.

During my book tour, I spoke at my alma mater, Wellesley College, on January 19, 1996, and spent the night at the gracious home of its superb President, Diana Chapman Walsh. The President’s house sits on the shores of Lake Waban, and I got up early and went for a long walk along the trail that encircles the lake. I had just returned when David phoned to tell me that Kenneth Starr had issued a subpoena to call me before the grand jury to testify about the missing billing records. This time there would be no quiet deposition in the White House. I would have to testify before the full grand jury the following week. I was upset, yet I knew I couldn’t express my feelings to anyone other than Bill or my lawyers.

Melanne had insisted on traveling with me because she knew how difficult the book tour would be with the daily pressure of press questioning. This act of personal friendship cost her emotionally and financially, since she had to ride out the tough times with me and pay her own way, too. That day at Wellesley was especially hard because I could not tell Melanne what was happening. Ever acute, she picked up on my agitation and ran interference for me. I will never forget her kindness and loyalty.

I returned to the White House discouraged and embarrassed, worried that this latest turn of events might destroy whatever credibility I retained, and I worried about what it would mean for Bill’s Presidency. Bill was upset and concerned for me. He kept telling me how sorry