Eighteen Acres

by Nicolle Wallace

  She examined his face for sarcasm but didn’t see anything but affection and a bit of boyish excitement. What is wrong with me? she thought for the thousandth time.

  She smiled and tried to look equally excited. “I’m really looking forward to trying this place,” she said.

  Peter came to her and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  She smiled and tried to relax.

  They were seated at a table in the corner. She knew she needed to tell him about the job she’d accepted, or it would hang between them all night.

  “Charlotte is feeling pretty good about things,” Peter said.

  “Did you talk to her again today?” Dale asked. She knew how it sounded, and she didn’t intend for it to come out like an accusation.

  “The election is a month away. The kids are on the road with her, and I checked in. It’s pretty exciting to think that she might actually win.”

  Dale drained her wine glass and looked up for the waiter to order another glass. “I met with one of the local stations this week,” she said.

  “That’s great. I mean, if you think you want to do some freelancing, it’s probably good to have relationships at the affiliates out here, right?” He was smiling at her and trying to sound supportive, but she could tell he was annoyed that she had surprised him again.

  “I interviewed for a job covering the last month of the campaign for the ABC affiliate out here, and they offered it to me on the spot,” she said.

  “Of course they did. You are a network anchor.”

  “Was a network anchor,” she corrected him.

  He finished his glass of wine.

  “They want me to start Monday.”

  “You’re not considering it, are you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I never would have before, but it’s not like there are any networks knocking down my door,” she said.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked.

  “Is freelancing for a local San Francisco television station what I want? Yes, it’s a dream come true. Of course, it isn’t what I want. What I want is my old job back, but that isn’t in the cards for me.”

  “It sounds like you made a bum trade, Dale,” he said.

  “No, that isn’t what I mean. I love that we’re together. I just don’t know how you can love me when I’m like this.”

  “Some days are easier than others,” he admitted.

  “I’m serious. I have nothing to give to you because I feel as though I don’t have anything for myself anymore. I need to do this. I need you to understand and support me.”

  He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t discern. She thought he looked indifferent—a look she’d never seen cross his face since they’d first met. “I always support you, but that’s not what you’re asking me to do,” he said.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do, and if this is you supporting me, then I’m afraid for the day I make a choice you don’t support or understand.”

  “You’ve already made a choice?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to do that here, with you,” she said, exasperated.

  “What you’re asking me to do is to let you go,” he said.

  “That’s not true, Peter.” But his words had sucked all the air out of her lungs. She breathed shallowly and didn’t look up.

  “You might not be ready to admit it, but that’s what you want. I have known that for a while, and I think you have, too,” he told her.

  “I don’t agree with you,” she said in a very small voice.

  Their food arrived, and they made mostly small talk for the rest of the night. They didn’t touch their meals. Dale asked questions about the campaign, and he asked what kind of stories she had in mind for her first week.

  When they got home, Dale changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. Peter kissed her good night and went into his office to do some work. She was still awake when he came to bed an hour later. He didn’t move toward her, and she debated whether to move closer to him. She inched toward him and slid her body into its usual spot behind his. She put an arm around him, and he took her hand in his. They lay there awake until sunrise and then he got out of bed without so much as looking at her. He took a shower, dressed, and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she said. “I’ll be back the day after the election ends.”

  “Have fun,” he said to her before turning to leave.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Charlotte

  It’s the best high in the world, Charlotte thought to herself as a screaming crowd of more than twenty-five thousand supporters in Milwaukee chanted “Four more years” and the advance crew blasted a Shania Twain song so loudly Charlotte could feel the ground shaking beneath her.

  Since she’d rejoined the “Conversation with America” tour, the rallies had grown larger and the crowds more enthusiastic by the day. Charlotte’s return had been kept a surprise until an hour before Air Force One touched down in Pensacola, Florida, five days earlier. When news had broken that she was en route from Washington, the crowd grew so fast the advance team had to build a second stage in an overflow arena.

  Charlotte believed that politicians either loved the trail or hated it. She’d always loved it. Peter thought she loved it too much, but she knew voters responded to candidates who left everything they had on the campaign trail.

  As she looked out at their faces—mothers standing with their daughters, couples holding hands, a group of men from a local construction site standing together with their hard hats on—she saw something different from what she’d seen four years ago. They were taking her measure, and their intensity crowded out the doubt that had crippled her since Roger died.

  When the crowd refused her repeated attempts to quiet them down, she laughed and called Tara down from the bleachers behind her. They waved and pointed to signs from the mostly female supporters in the front rows that said “Women Do It Better” and “Kramer-Meyers on Nov. 4.”

  Picking Tara as her vice-presidential nominee was a decision that Charlotte never revisited. Once she was on the ticket, Tara was a natural fit. Charlotte and Tara occupied the same dangerous swath of their respective parties: the center. As a result, they both had more enemies in their own parties than from across the aisle. They’d both been celebrated and vilified by the media, and they knew how to use the press without mistaking them for friends or allies. And they saw eye-to-eye on the issues Charlotte was most passionate about.

  When the crowd finally quieted down, Tara returned to her seat.

  “Let me tell you a little bit about the woman I picked to serve as my vice president,” Charlotte said to cheers from the crowd. “If we are fortunate enough to win on Election Day and to serve as your president and vice president for the next four years, we will do our best to protect you from harm. We will assemble the best business minds from across this land—not from places like Wall Street and Washington but from places like Reno, Nevada; Miami, Florida; and Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

  The crowd roared again.

  “Tara Meyers has a record of taking down and locking up those who threaten this great country,” Charlotte said. “Tara Meyers has a record of working across the aisle with members of both parties and of cracking heads when that’s what’s necessary to get things done on behalf of her constituents,” she said to even louder cheers. “And Tara Meyers has a record of putting the people she serves ahead of personal interests, political interests, and polite interests.” The crowd was on its feet.

  Charlotte was wise enough not to make any attempts to emulate Tara’s toughness, but she did enjoy pumping up the crowd by talking up her running mate.

  When they were back on the bus, Charlotte still felt the adrenaline in her blood.

  “Sam, do you mind getting me some tea? Chamomile, if they have it,” she requested. “Melanie, what did you think? The crowd was really fired up.” Charlotte beamed.

  “It was a good event,” Me
lanie said.

  “If that’s good, honey, I can’t wait to see what you call great,” Tara said, plopping down onto the bench seat next to Charlotte.

  Charlotte saw Melanie give her an annoyed look, but Tara didn’t appear to notice.

  “You were awesome, Madam President,” Tara gushed.

  “Please call me Charlotte, in here and out there,” Charlotte said, patting her knee warmly.

  “You kicked some serious ass up there, Charlotte, am I allowed to say that?” Tara giggled.

  Melanie glared at her and watched as Charlotte put her arm on Tara’s.

  “Yes. It’s been a while since anyone has said that to me, but thank you, I think. That’s a compliment, right, Ralph?” Charlotte asked as Ralph joined the group, taking a seat next to Tara.

  “Yes, Madam President. I just got the overnight poll numbers, and you are both kicking some serious what she said,” Ralph said, gesturing toward Tara.

  Charlotte saw Melanie roll her eyes again.

  “The overnights are unreliable, though, aren’t they, Ralph?” Melanie said. “I thought the only numbers that really tell us anything are the three night rolls.”

  “Technically, that’s correct,” Ralph said, looking at Tara as he spoke. “But the overnights show our numbers moving among all categories of voters, and that’s a good trend even without the other two nights. Now, of course, Melanie’s right, and we won’t know for two more days whether this is a durable surge or just our numbers popping because of the debate last night or because of something in the news, but it’s still a good sign.”

  “Beats an overnight dip in the numbers, right?” Tara said.

  Melanie sighed loudly and started to make her way toward the front of the bus.

  “Where are you going, Mel?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’ll be right back. I just need to make a couple of calls.”

  “Hurry back. We need to discuss the pros and cons of amending the no-campaign pledge here in the final weeks.”

  Charlotte could see Melanie’s face tighten as she shot a nasty look at Ralph and Tara. Charlotte knew that Melanie felt threatened by her growing reliance on Ralph’s political judgment, but he had a better sense of what was going on outside Washington than Melanie did. What took Charlotte by surprise was the hostility she sensed that Melanie felt toward Tara.

  “I wasn’t aware that we were seriously considering a reversal, but I’m happy to discuss it when I get back,” Melanie said before turning and walking toward the front of the bus.

  Melanie and Ralph had bickered like siblings for the past three and a half years. Charlotte knew how to make both of them feel essential. But Melanie’s resentment toward Tara was something Charlotte hoped would dissipate.

  Melanie was dead set against reversing course on the no-campaign pledge, but Charlotte had had a decent political radar of her own at one time, and every instinct told her that the voters would forgive her. She sensed that her supporters desperately wanted her to spend the final days blasting her opponent for smearing her record and attacking her personally. Now that she was out of Washington, she understood what Tara described in her nightly calls to Charlotte. The voters needed Charlotte to prove that she still had the stomach for the fights that would surely come if she was reelected.

  As they’d made their way through Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Colorado, and Nevada, the crowds continued to swell in size and intensity. And after some late-night number crunching from Ralph and some calls to Tara’s remaining political allies, they planned a surprise Northeast swing to make a play for New Jersey, New Hampshire, Maine, Connecticut, and New York. Ralph acknowledged that it was a long shot but thought it was worthwhile.

  Two weeks on the campaign trail had sped by in a blur of bus trips, town halls, television interviews, radio shows, rallies, and debates. As Charlotte sipped her coffee and flipped through the front pages of the papers that the press office had assembled for her, she let herself reflect back on the turmoil of the previous six months. She thought about Peter out in San Francisco. He checked in with the twins frequently and passed along astute advice. Brooke and Mark had flown in the night before to join them for the final week on the road. She smiled at the thought of the twins and Brooke and Mark sitting behind her at all of the remaining events. If anyone could keep the mood light in the final days of a presidential campaign, they could. And her parents were planning to join them for the final weekend.

  She’d be surrounded by people who would love her no matter what happened on Election Day. Increasingly, it looked as if she’d have her job for four more years.

  Am I really up for doing this again? she thought to herself. She smiled. She knew the answer.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Melanie

  You don’t look like someone about to win your fourth straight presidential campaign,” Michael said, surprising Melanie by pulling up a stool next to her at the hotel bar where Charlotte and Tara and their respective entourages were staying.

  “What are you doing out here?” Melanie asked. She was happy to see Michael, but she figured she’d have the bar to herself while Charlotte and Tara were at the rally.

  “Whoa, easy, you’re going to fall off that stool,” Michael said when Melanie nearly tipped over as she reached out to give him a hug.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, but seriously, what are you doing on the road? I thought you’d be back at the bureau trying to dig up some dirt on Charlotte or Tara in the final days,” Melanie said, slurring her words slightly.

  “I wanted to see your dynamic little duo with my own eyes.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes. “What are you really working on?”

  “Unless you have been under a rock—which, come to think of it, you look like you have been under a rock. What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” she reassured him, taking the last sip of her martini.

  “Well, the country is in full swoon mode over Charlotte and Tara. I came out to write about Charlotte Kramer’s final week as a candidate. Ever,” he added.

  “I’ll have you know that my day started with a very awkward conversation with Tara about wearing undergarments that offer a little more support and coverage,” Melanie said, while waving her hand to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Her wardrobe choices are probably worth a couple of points with male voters, Mel,” he said.

  Melanie put her head in her hands. “Two martinis over here, please!” Melanie shouted, her head still resting on the bar.

  The bartender nodded at them. “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Michael said to him.

  “When did you arrive?” Melanie asked.

  “About an hour ago. Too late to get to the event, or I would have gone. I didn’t expect to find you here. Thought you’d be at the rally.”

  “Why? Haven’t you read the papers?” she said.

  “So, the shit Ralph is putting out is getting to you?” Michael asked. “That’s not like you.”

  “What shit, specifically, are you referring to?” Melanie asked.

  “Ralph’s floating rumors that you’re being eased out, that you’re burned out and losing your touch with Charlotte.”

  “Ah, those rumors,” Melanie said as the bartender placed another martini in front of her.

  “Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little strung-out,” Michael said.

  “I’ve been living on a goddamn bus with Tara, Ralph, and Charlotte. Can you blame me?” she said.

  “No. But as your friend, I think you need to nip these stories in the bud. You’re about half a news cycle away from a feeding frenzy. There’s a lot of rumbling out there about how you can’t get along with Tara,” Michael warned her.

  “You’re joking, right?” Melanie said. But she knew he wasn’t. Ralph and his toadies were pushing all sorts of nasty rumors to the blogs. They were dying to see Melanie fail and Ralph replace her as chief of staff as a reward for winning the electio
n.

  “It’s not even worth responding to,” Melanie said.

  “Why not?” Michael asked.

  “Because I’m done. I’ve been run out of the place by Ralph and Tara.”

  “You’re so melodramatic,” Michael said, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Perhaps, but even you can’t deny it. It’s over,” she said.

  “So you’re not staying, assuming Charlotte wins in a week?”

  “No way,” Melanie said.

  “Well, I’ll toast to that,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “And no one will blame you. Sixteen years is a record. Believe me when I tell you that leaving will do wonders for your personal life,” he added.

  Melanie snorted. “What personal life?”

  “Weren’t you seeing that correspondent? Brian something?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I screwed that up royally. Maybe I’ll sign up for eHarmony when this is over. The Secret Service doesn’t even let me have a Facebook page, but when I’m retired, I can join one of those online dating services. That sounds like fun,” she said, laughing into her glass.

  Michael didn’t laugh. He shot the bartender a look that he hoped would convey that it was time to cut Melanie off.

  “Listen, Melanie, why don’t you let me walk you to your room? You look exhausted,” he offered.

  “I’m going to have one more.” She waved at the bartender. He ignored her.

  “Come on, Mel. You’ll regret that in the morning,” Michael warned.

  “I will add it to the list,” she said.

  “Don’t be like this. The motorcade will be back here in ten minutes. You don’t want the junior staffers to see you.”

  “Why the hell not? Shouldn’t they see what sixteen fucking years of loyalty gets you?” she said, a little too loudly.

  “Come on. You’re the White House chief of staff, for Christ’s sake. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go have a cigarette, OK? Will you come have a cigarette with me?”

  “I don’t smoke,” she said.

  “Yes, you do. You and Charlotte order Marlboro Lights by the carton.”