by J. L. Brown
Jade’s face grew hot, embarrassed. She remained silent. She had no idea where this was going.
“Do you know why I did that?”
Jade shook her head, a slow, cautious movement.
“Because I knew underneath that tough-jock exterior, you needed me.”
She reached up with her right hand and caressed Jade’s cheek. The display of physical affection made Jade uncomfortable. She wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Zoe, her beautiful best friend for the last ten years, knew this.
Zoe reached up with her other hand, cradling Jade’s face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve suspected him. And I should have told you.”
Before Jade could react, Zoe planted an exaggerated loud kiss on her lips.
Jade wiped her mouth. “Shit!” She cast a glance at the sightseers staring over at them again, amused smiles on their faces. Through clenched teeth, she said, “What’re you doing?”
“Begging for forgiveness. You solved your case. Let’s go celebrate it and the historic passage of the ERA. I know the perfect place in Dupont Circle.”
EPILOGUE
The White House, Washington, DC
After eight inaugural balls, President Whitney Fairchild stepped into the Oval Office, alone, and kicked off her high heels. My feet hurt. And, besides, who’s going to stop me? In her stockings, she padded around the room, gazing at the wall paintings. She allowed her hand to trail along the softness of the sofas and chairs as she made her way to the most famous desk in the world, the nineteenth-century Resolute desk, a gift from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1880. President John F. Kennedy was the first to use the desk in the Oval Office, as had many of the presidents since. She sat in the presidential chair and placed both hands on the top of the desk.
She thought about the swearing-in ceremony earlier that day at noon on the west steps of the US Capitol, when she tried to keep the dignified smile on her face despite the biting, freezing cold of Washington, DC, in January. The proud faces of her husband, Grayson, her two children, and her parents as they stood by her side. She was grateful to all of them for their support and sacrifices over the years. With her hand gracing the same Bible used in Abraham Lincoln’s inauguration in 1861, she scanned the crowd on the Mall, the largest ever to witness the swearing in of a US president.
Next, the drive down Pennsylvania Avenue. The consternation of her advisors and the Secret Service when she and Grayson got out of the bullet-proof Lincoln Town Car and walked hand in hand down the street waving to the massive crowd. She had lunch with her former colleagues in the Senate and House and attended meetings and briefings the rest of the afternoon, because the president never had a day off. The amount of information was overwhelming. For all the consideration she’d given it, she still had managed to underestimate the awesome responsibility she had assumed until she read her first President’s Daily Brief.
She thought again of the balls earlier that evening and hoped she didn’t appear too foolish dancing. She had practiced during the last few weeks, but it had been years since she and Grayson had gone dancing. She cringed now, thinking about some of their more awkward dance moves.
She had run into Blake Haynes at one of the balls. Her interview with him last week had been such a success that MSNBC had given him his own show. Needless to say, he was happy to see her. FOW indeed.
Leaning back in her—her!—chair, she reflected on the campaign and all the people she had talked to, the hands she had shaken, the late-night strategy sessions, and trying to find healthy food in some of the towns she had visited.
She thought of Ted and everyone on her legislative and campaign staffs. She remembered the scandals with her husband’s company and his mistake with their neighbor. She was fortunate these scandals had not derailed her campaign. The other side had tried and failed. She let out a contented sigh. She was blessed.
When she and Grayson toasted, “To us!” with champagne in the private residence earlier in the evening, it felt like a new beginning. Not only for her term as president, but for their relationship as well.
An envelope addressed to her was positioned in the center of the desk. She recognized Richard Ellison’s large, sloping scrawl. She opened it.
Dear Whitney,
By the time you read this, you will be president. Although our interactions going forward will be few, please know I’m rooting for you.
Respectfully,
Richard
Whitney smiled, touched, even though she knew Reagan had started the tradition with H.W. Every president since had left a note for his successor.
A gift sat on the corner of the desk. It was in the shape of a book. At first, she guessed that it, too, was from the former president, but now remembered it was a gift from Landon. In the confusion of the transition, she had never opened it. She hesitated, wondering whether she should do so now.
Whitney read the note scribbled on the decorative paper. Please don’t open until after the election.
She opened it.
In her hand, she held a first edition of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. The brown and white cover was well preserved. She flipped through the pages; none seemed to be missing or damaged. The book appeared as if it had never been read. A page of expensive beige parchment paper was tucked inside the front book cover.
Dear Senator,
I’m sure you already own this classic, but this volume is in pristine condition and, I am told, one of a kind. I’ve enjoyed our reading challenge, and since I’m so far ahead, I wanted to give you a chance to catch up.
Seriously, I want to thank you for the opportunity to work for you and alongside you all these years. Every day has been a joy.
I am proud of what we’ve accomplished and look forward to what we’ll accomplish over the next eight years (yes, I said eight!). I know you will win.
I want to have one of our talks after you read this. I believe we’ll have much to say to each other.
You have no idea how much I love you.
Your son,
Landon
The End
AFTERWORD
The Equal Rights Amendment was introduced into Congress in 1923, passed both houses in 1972, and was ratified by thirty-five states that same year. It failed to become law by just three states. The amendment has been reintroduced in every Congress since 1982.
About the Author
J. L. Brown is the author of the Jade Harrington novels, Don’t Speak and Rule of Law. Brown lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest, where she is working on the third book in the series.
If you want to receive an automatic email when J. L. Brown’s next book is released and other exclusive updates, sign up here. Your privacy is important. Your address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Word of mouth is crucial to an author. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon here. It can be short and would be a huge help.
J. L. loves to engage with her readers. Please follow her on Twitter, engage with her on Facebook and Instagram (@jl_brownauthor), or send her an email: [email protected]. You can also contact her through her website: www.jlbrownauthor.com
Thank you for reading, Don’t Speak.
Acknowledgements
If it takes a village to raise a child, then it takes a team to write a book. Although I was the one who first put fingers to keyboard, this book would not have been published without the support, guidance, morale boosts, and constructive criticism I received along the way. I want to thank my editors, Alan Rinzler and Jim Thomsen. You both made this a better book. In addition, thank you, Jim, for helping me to assemble #TeamJLBrownauthor. Thanks to web designer, Anne Clermont, Damonza, who created an awesome cover design, and my amazing proofreader, Christina Tinling.
Thanks to Darcia Davis Photography, who tried to make a model out of me. Special shout out to an early reader, Sherron Bates (the book has changed a little since then), and fellow writers on Twitter who encouraged and
cheered me on.
I am also grateful to the following writers: Renee Flagler and Lissa Woodson, who took the time to help a sistah out, Kathleen Antrim for her support and guidance, Christina Katz for her uncompromising honesty, and Dan Schlosser for always being there to answer my questions.
To my parents who never let me settle and instilled the work ethic in me I would need to become an author. To my mother, who put a book in my hand at the age of three; I have had one in my hand ever since.
To my sons, Travis and Brandon, for all of their love and support, and my daughter and marketing strategist, Jasmine, for her love, support, creativity, and enthusiasm.
To my cat and constant companion, Duke, who spent many hours on my lap as I wrote this novel. I miss you every day.
To my amazing wife and manager, Audi, who encouraged me to write this novel in the first place, read and commented on every draft, and supported me throughout the entire project. I found my beach. I love you.
The next installment in the Jade Harrington series...
ISBN 978-0-9969772-1-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9969772-0-3 (ebook)
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Don’t Speak © 2016 by Julie L. Brown
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For information address JAB Press, P.O. Box 9462, Seattle, WA 98109.
Cover Design by Damonza
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015918331
ISBN 978-0-9969772-1-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9969772-0-3 (ebook)
First Edition: January 2016