Campaign Trail
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“Thanks.”
Marianne winked. “Call me if you need to.”
Jameson nodded and moved to open her car door. Marianne started back toward the house. “Marianne?”
“Yeah?”
“That goes both ways, you know? Call me if you need to.”
“I know.”
Jameson climbed into the car and started the engine. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.
“Momma?”
“Yeah, Coop?”
“We’re going with Mommy?”
Jameson looked in the rearview mirror at her son. “Yes, Coop. You and me—we’re going with Mommy on her trip.”
“We get to stay in a hotel?”
Jameson laughed. Cooper was fascinated by hotels. “We do.”
“Cool!”
Jameson glanced back one more time at Cooper before pulling the car down the long driveway. Nope, don’t want to miss a minute if I can help it.
Chapter Three
Candace shook her head as she watched the news. Nothing was ever easy. She’d expected resistance to her candidacy. She hadn’t expected it would become this visceral this early in the game. She rubbed her brow thoughtfully. Politics was a game. She hated that reality, but it was reality.
“Candy?” Dana called over. Candace shook her head some more. “Candy, you know that Jed Ritchie…”
Candace turned to Dana and sighed. “Jed Ritchie is getting plenty of help from Lawson Klein. We both know it.”
“They are fringe at best,” Dana offered.
Candace grimaced. “Don’t underestimate them, Dana.”
“You don’t honestly think this bullshit they’re pedaling will stick?”
“Oh, it will stick,” Candace replied. “That’s not even a question. The question is how many corners it will fill up.”
“What do you want me to do?” Dana asked.
“There’s not much you can do right now.” Candace clicked off the television.
“What are you thinking?”
“I think we need to bring Doug into the equation now.”
“Doug Mills?”
Candace nodded. Doug Mills was a top strategist with the Democratic party. Candace had known him since he had started his career in the party. He was bright, energetic, and creative. More importantly, Doug Mills had been raised in the opposing party. His father had been a Republican congressman from Alabama for six terms. Doug had departed from his father’s political ideology after college. He had interned in GOP Congressman Ron Dalton’s office for three years before leaving the Republican party. Doug had made connections during that time. Some of those connections loathed him; others saw him as a folk hero of sorts. He had moderate fiscal views but progressive social ideologies. As the Republican party moved farther to the right, Mills had tried to speak to the center. When that had failed, he moved to the other side hoping he might be more successful in that endeavor.
“Mills is a risk,” Dana said.
“Everything is a risk.”
“Candy, I know that you like Doug, but you’ve got the far right giving you an enema already. You can’t lose the left this soon.”
Candace laughed. “An enema?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Candace conceded. “I don’t just like Doug; I respect him.”
“His fiscal views are more conservative than yours.”
“He’s not writing the platform.”
“No, but he has been outspoken the last few years on budget cuts. And, I might remind you that he’s been somewhat critical publicly of your spending plans as governor.”
Candace smiled. “Yes, he has.”
“Candy…”
“He’s good for the campaign. He’s also good for me.”
“This is your call, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I have concerns. I imagine Glenn and Michelle will express the same doubts.”
“Don’t imagine,” Candace chuckled. “They will.”
“You’ve already decided.”
“I decided to bring Doug on long ago. I had hoped to do it when we reached the general. I don’t think it can wait that long. We need him now. I need him now.”
“Do you think he will do it?”
“He’ll do it,” Candace said.
“And, what happens when he tries to push you in a different direction?”
“I suppose that will depend on his argument.”
“Candy…”
“Dana, this is not state politics, and it is not a senate race. Presidential campaigns—more importantly, presidential leadership requires considering a vast array of perspectives. You can’t win on your party alone, and you can’t govern successfully if you don’t consider the other side. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all country. You know that. Doug is fair-minded, even if I disagree with him on certain things. I’ve learned to anticipate a lot of obstacles. He will see things coming before any of us do. He has that ability, and he is adept at countering it.”
“When are you going to tell Glenn?”
“When is she going to tell Glenn what?” Glenn Freeman entered the room.
“Glenn,” Candace greeted her campaign manager.
“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that,” he said.
Candace grinned. “You don’t like the sound of your name?”
“Candace…”
Candace took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sit down.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned.
“A bit dramatic?” Candace said. “I want to bring Doug on board.”
“Mills? Now?”
“Yes.”
“Candace, that might be premature,” he replied.
“I don’t think so.”
Glenn regarded Candace silently for a moment. She held his gaze firmly, a clear indication that she was resolved to pursue her line of thinking. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll make the call,” he said.
“No,” Candace held up her hand. “I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Do you think that’s wise—you reaching out to him personally?” he asked.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”
Glenn scratched his head. “I understand your reasoning, but it might be advisable to keep him at a slight personal distance. He’s been critical of you over the last year.”
“Lots of people have been critical of me, some of them are related to me,” Candace quipped.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. You need to trust me on this one. Klein and Ritchie are on a crusade.”
“I agree, but they don’t carry the mantle of the majority in their party,” he pointed out.
“No, but the majority potentially benefit from the crusade. They’re unlikely to challenge much out of Ritchie’s rhetoric until they are forced to. And, face it—they will wait to see how it plays in the public sphere first. They want this election, Glenn. No way do they want another four years of a Democrat in office. Their agenda is stalled. At the very least, should I be successful, they will want to stall mine. I can’t have that either.”
“You’re worried about the down ballot races already?” he asked.
“You should be too,” she said.
“Candace, if…”
“There are no ifs,” Candace said. “Not in life. Politics is just like life, Glenn. There’s when, how, and who. Don’t deal in ifs. That’s the surest road to nowhere.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Glad you remember that. Maybe you could remind my children when you have the time.”
Dana started laughing. The door to the suite blew open.
“Mommy!”
Candace looked over at Cooper and smiled. He ran to her. “Where have you been?” she asked him.
“Momma took me to da pool!”
“She did?”
“Yep.”
“Did you play fish?” Candace asked.
“Nope.”
“Nope. We played shark.”
Candace laughed. “Of course, you did,” she said as she pulled him up to sit beside her. Cooper leaned into her happily. She kissed him on the head and looked back at Glenn. “I’ll make the call in the morning before we head out.”
“Dismissed?” he asked playfully.
“For now,” Candace winked. “I have to handle a shark.”
“I’m not a shark, Mommy,” Cooper giggled.
“No?”
“No! Momma’s da shark.”
“Is that so?” Candace asked.
“Yep. Sharks are only in da water, Mommy. We’re dry.”
Candace chuckled and pulled Cooper close. If only that were true, Cooper. If only that were true.
***
“What’ve you got?”
Lawson Klein swiveled in his chair. “On Reid?”
“On any of them,” Ritchie said.
“Still digging into the Stratton Foundation.”
“Better dig deeper,” Ritchie replied. “If you don’t find something soon…”
“If we don’t find something, we’ll create it,” Klein said.
Ritchie smiled. I like the way you think, Lawson.
***
“I’m surprised that you didn’t hop on a plane to Iowa,” Marianne commented. She handed her sister a cold bottle of beer and took a seat across from her at the table.
“I was tempted.”
“But?”
Michelle shrugged. “I kind of think I needed to stick close to home today.”
“Okay? You’re not home, though—you’re here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What’s up, Shell?”
Michelle sighed heavily. “She wants to try.”
“You might need to give me a little more than that. I will go out on a limb and assume we are talking about Mel and having a baby.”
Michelle nodded while her fingertips drew patterns in the condensation on her beer bottle.
“And, you don’t want to have a baby?”
“No.”
“Shell, that’s a big…”
Michelle chuckled nervously. “No,” she said. “I do want to have a baby. I just don’t think it’s a great idea for her to try.”
“Lost me.”
Michelle looked at her sister helplessly. “The fertility specialist we saw thinks there is a chance that Mel might be able to conceive—with help.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Marianne asked. Michelle looked at her hands. “Shell?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle replied. “It’s still an uphill climb,” she explained.
“You’re worried she’ll be disappointed.”
“That’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
Michelle took a deep breath and released it audibly.
“Shell?”
“You’ll think it’s nuts.”
“I’m used to you being nuts,” Marianne teased.
Michelle looked back at Marianne teary eyed.
“Shell,” Marianne reached across the table and took her sister’s hand.
“I sort of got used to the idea.”
Marianne smiled. “To the idea that you would be the one to carry your baby.”
Michelle nodded.
“Did you tell her that?”
Michelle shook her head.
“Why not?” Marianne asked.
“Because I don’t want to disappoint her.”
“I see.”
“What?”
“Shell, don’t you think that Mel should know how you feel?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“So, if I am following this; you are worried that if Mel can’t conceive, she’ll be disappointed.”
“Yeah…”
“And, at the same time, you are disappointed because you thought you’d be making plans now to try and conceive. Am I following this?”
“I…”
Marianne smiled. “You need to talk to Mel.”
“I’d love her to be the one,” Michelle said. “I just… I know how much this means to her and….”
“And, what about you?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle said. “I always kind of thought it would be her. When we got the news—well, I just…”
“I understand,” Marianne said. “At least, I think that I do. Don’t look at me like that,” Marianne laughed. “I’m lucky.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I never had to worry about any of this,” Marianne answered. “I loved Rick. When we decided that we wanted to have a family, we just started trying. It didn’t take us that long—either time. So, I understand as much as I can understand. But, Shell? You need to talk to Melanie. This is something that you are an equal part of no matter who carries your baby.”
“I know.”
“So, talk to her.”
Michelle smiled and took a sip from her beer. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You and Scott have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
Marianne smiled. She was grateful to have someone in her life again. After Rick’s death, Marianne had thought she might be alone the rest of her life. Scott had changed that line of thinking. She had fallen in love with him. Marianne also understood that she was a long way from being ready to share her life full-time with another person. Her focus remained on her children. She was hopeful that in time she and Scott might find their way to creating a family together. That was not something she had shared with anyone—not even Scott.
“We have,” Marianne said.
“And?”
“How did this become about me?”
“Why are you avoiding the subject?” Michelle countered.
“I’m not.”
“You so are.”
Marianne laughed. “Maybe I am.”
“You’re holding out so you can get married at the White House.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “If I were you, I’d concentrate on your proposed progeny and give up your bridesmaid delusions.”
“Delusions? You getting married to Scott is delusional?”
“Me getting married to anyone is delusional.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” Marianne said bluntly.
Michelle tipped her head and regarded her older sister silently. Something was on Marianne’s mind; she could tell. “What gives?”
“What?”
“You. Delusions. Did he ask you already?”
“Did who ask me what?” Marianne took a sip from her beer.
“Duh—Scott. Did he already propose?”
Marianne spewed the beer in her mouth across the table.
“Sexy. I can see why he’s so enthralled,” Michelle wiped some beer from her chest.
“The only thing Scott has proposed is me and the kids spending a few days with him at his house for a change.”
“Are you going to?”
“Stay at Scott’s?”
“Yeah.”
Marianne smiled. “In a couple of weeks—yes.”
“What if he does?”
“What if he does what?”
“Propose?”
Marianne shook her head. “He won’t.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“He won’t,” Marianne said. “He knows how I feel about everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that he knows that I love him and he understands that I am nowhere near prepared to get married again.”
Michelle sighed. “Why not?”
“Because, Shell I am just learning how to let someone in again. And, because when I do, I want to be sure I can give it everything, not just pieces.”
“You know, Rick would be okay with it.”
Marianne smiled. “I know,” she said. “I have to be okay with it.”
“Hey, have you talked to JD lately?”
/> “Yeah, I saw her yesterday; why?”
“I don’t know. She just seemed kind of quiet the last few times I was with her. Then she signed away the firm…”
“I think JD is just figuring out where she needs to be the most.”
“You mean for Mom and Coop.”
“No. Actually, I don’t. I mean for her.”
“She built that firm from the ground up.”
Marianne shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about JD.”
Michelle was concerned about Jameson. Jed Ritchie’s mudslinging campaign had gotten personal already. In some corners, Candace was depicted as a hero. In others, she was being vilified as a monster. Jameson was fiercely protective of Candace. Michelle hoped that as the press became more invasive, Jameson wouldn’t feel the need to defend her mother pointedly.
“Yeah, well… Mom has been balls to the wall lately with work, and you know the media is a bunch of ass munchers.”
“Is that a technical term?” Marianne raised her brow.
“Nope. It’s an accurate one, though.”
“Don’t worry about JD,” Marianne repeated. “She’s smarter and tougher than you think.”
“That sounded like an endorsement,” Michelle laughed. “Weird.”
“What’s that?”
“You and JD all chummy.”
Marianne nodded. She still carried a sense of guilt for the way she had treated Jameson when they had first met. But she had grown to love Jameson, and she valued the friendship they shared as much as she did any in the family. “She’s my best friend,” Marianne said.
Michelle smiled. “Like I said—weird.”
Marianne laughed. “Maybe so. Weird beats ass muncher.” Marianne raised her glass.
Michelle choked. “Classy,” she laughed.
Marianne took a swig from her beer. “To the end.”
***
“Want to talk about it?” Candace asked Jameson as she climbed into the bed.
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever is bothering you.”
“Nothing is bothering me.”
“Jameson, you are the worst liar I know.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Okay, so what is on your mind that you are reluctant to share with me?” Candace changed her question.
Jameson sighed.