Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1

by Marie Force

  “The proliferation of guns in our society has reached a crisis level, especially when they end up in the hands of someone who’d shoot innocent children waiting in line to see Santa. It has to stop. I understand this issue is fraught with intense emotions, not to mention political peril for anyone who dares to address it. Let me say right here and right now that if my political career is ruined by trying to make our schools, churches, movie theaters and other public spaces safer for everyone, then so be it. That’s a hit I’m willing to take if it means we can make real, meaningful progress in addressing the connection between mental health and gun violence. I have no interest in taking guns from responsible gun owners, but I’m asking them to help with this important effort. I believe all Americans support meaningful progress toward making our country safer for everyone. I look forward to working with all of you toward that goal.”

  I’m moved nearly to tears by his passionate commitment and thrilled to be part of such an ambitious effort. Over the next two hours, a robust conversation is held on the various issues, the scope of the task force and a punch list of issues and concerns to be addressed. As the meeting comes to an end, I realize it’s the most engaged I’ve been in anything since I lost Patrick, and it’s a huge relief to get a break from the relentless grief that’s overtaken everything.

  Lilia remains in the room after the meeting, so I make my way back to the East Wing by myself, hoping I’ll remember how to get there. As I round a corner, I come face-to-face with Not-Patrick and suppress a gasp of surprise.

  His expression registers shock and then anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  * * *

  I’m so stunned to see him here, of all places, that my brain goes completely blank for a second.

  “Come in here.” He opens a door and gestures for me to go ahead of him into the room. He’s wearing a lilac dress shirt with a matching tie. His light brown hair is combed straight back, making his unsmiling face look even more stern and unwavering.

  For a second, I can’t bring myself to move. Is it safe to go into a room alone with a guy who’s clearly angry with me? But then I remember this is the White House, and it’s not like he’s going to physically attack me, so I step into the room.

  He closes the door and leans against it, which is when I notice he has a White House staff ID hanging around his neck like I do. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  “I’m Roni Connolly, and I… I work here.”

  His brow furrows. “Since when?”

  “Ah, about six hours ago.”

  “What’s your job?”

  “Communications director to the first lady. What’s yours?”

  “Deputy chief of staff to the president.”

  Oh damn. Well…

  “I’m trying to be fair here, but it’s really weird that I caught you basically stalking me, and now you show up at my workplace.”

  “I had no idea you work here! And I wasn’t stalking you. I happened to see you a couple of times in the neighborhood where we both live.”

  He crosses his arms as he stares at me without blinking. “We both know it was more than that.”

  “I told you that you reminded me of someone I used to know.”

  “Who?”

  I want to tell him it’s none of his business, but he’s not the one who made this weird. That was all me. “My husband.”

  His posture immediately relaxes somewhat. “You said you used to know him. What does that mean?”

  “He’s dead.”

  After a long moment of silence, he says, “I’m sorry. What happened to him?”

  “He was hit by a stray bullet on 12th Street.”

  Wincing, he says, “How long ago?”

  “October.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you both.”

  “Thank you. I’m really not a weirdo. Well, I’m usually not. You reminded me of him from behind, but of course you’re not him, and you actually don’t even look like him. It was just an odd new-widow thing. I hope you’ll accept my apology for making this strange.”

  “I do. I accept your apology, and I understand new-widow weirdness better than you might think. My wife was murdered eighteen months ago.”

  I gasp. So the woman I saw him with on the street wasn’t his wife. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, and when you read up on what happened to her, which of course you will, because I already know that’s how you are, you’ll see why I might’ve overreacted to someone following me.”

  He thinks he’s got me figured out. How cheeky. “I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

  “I’m sorry I overreacted.” He releases a weary-sounding sigh and runs his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “It’s just been really rough since I lost my wife, and the circumstances of her death have made me extremely paranoid, and… I’m rambling.”

  “I understand. Say no more.”

  “How do you know the first lady?”

  “She was the one who told me what happened to my husband, and we’ve kind of become unlikely friends. When she offered me the job, it was just… Well, it’s a lifeline of sorts. How do you know the president?”

  “We’ve been friends for fifteen years, since we both came to Washington as junior staffers to congresspeople. I worked for Nelson, and when he died, Nick… er, the president, asked me to stay on his team.”

  Which means he’s also friends with Sam. “How old is your daughter?”

  He smiles. “Maeve is two and a half.”

  “She’s adorable.”

  “Yes, she is, and she saved my life after Vic died.” He straightens as if he suddenly realizes he’s supposed to be doing something else. “I’m, ah… sorry if I was a jerk.”

  “You weren’t. I was weird. I had it coming.”

  He cracks a small grin that softens his countenance. Having the chance to look closely, I notice he’s every bit as handsome as Patrick was, but in his own way. “I should get back to work.”

  “Me, too. They’ve probably sent out a search party for me.”

  “It was nice to officially meet you, Roni.”

  “You never told me your name.”

  “It’s Derek. Derek Kavanaugh, with a K for when you google me.”

  That makes me laugh. “Thanks for the clarification.”

  “Have a good rest of your first day.”

  “Thanks.”

  He opens the door, and when we step out of the room, he heads west while I go east, dying to get to my computer so I can do exactly what he predicted I would. When I return to the first lady’s suite, there’s no one else around, so I duck into the office I was assigned and fire up the laptop I was given to use for all White House-related work.

  Maybe I shouldn’t google a colleague on that computer… I reach for my cell phone and call up the browser to search for him.

  Thirty minutes later, when Lilia comes to the door, I’m sitting at my desk with tears running down my face.

  “Roni! Are you all right?”

  Nothing like getting caught crying in the office on the first day on the job. I wipe away the tears and force a smile for my new boss. “I’m fine. I was just reading something sad.”

  “Why’re you doing that?”

  “Just a little research after the meeting.” She doesn’t need to know I’m cyberstalking one of our colleagues.

  Derek’s wife wasn’t just murdered. I remember reading about former presidential candidate Arnie Patterson and his sons plotting for years to get insight into the Nelson camp, going so far as to plant a woman close to a member of Nelson’s team and then murdering her when she stopped providing the information they wanted. The Kavanaughs’ daughter went missing for days after her mother was found dead in their home in what had to be a complete nightmare for poor Derek.

  No wonder he’s so suspicious and protective of himself and his daughter. He has good reason to suspect the worst of people. I have so many questions, but I can’t th
ink about that now when my new boss is in my office, and I have a job to do.

  “If the task force work is too much for you after what you’ve been through, please feel free to say so,” Lilia says.

  I so appreciate her offering me an out. “I’m really fine. Just a little extra emotional these days.” For reasons I’ll have to tell her eventually, but not now. Not yet.

  “I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if something is too much for you or strikes too close to home. We have a wonderful staff that supports each other in every way we can. There’s no need to suffer needlessly when you’ve had enough suffering already.”

  “That’s very nice of you. Thank you for being so kind and understanding. It means a lot to me.”

  Sam appears behind Lilia. “Knock, knock.”

  Lilia steps aside to allow the first lady to join our conversation.

  “Thank you both for being at that meeting,” she says. “It means a lot to both of us to have you working with us on this issue.”

  “It’s long overdue,” Lilia says.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I add.

  “Could I have one minute with Roni?” Sam asks.

  “Of course,” Lilia says as she leaves the room.

  Sam closes my office door. “You’re settling in okay?”

  “Yes, it’s been great. Everyone is so nice.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You know how to reach me if you need anything.”

  “I do, and I was thinking that I’ll end each day with an email summary to you with ideas that you can approve or disapprove as I figure out how best to speak for you. Would that work?”

  “That sounds great, and I’ll commit to answering that daily email on the same day it was sent so you can do this job while I’m off doing my other job—or I guess I should say jobs, plural, including being a mother to three kiddos.”

  “I’m here to help in any way that I can. If you need something with one of the kids, ask me. If you need help crafting a response on a case, ask me. I’m willing to do whatever you need.”

  “I appreciate that more than you know. In the second month of this new situation, the shock has worn off a bit, and gritty reality is setting in.” She stops, and her expression turns to one of horror. “My God, I lost my mind for a second there. The shock of my husband suddenly becoming president is no comparison to what you’ve been through.”

  “Shock is shock, Sam. Or, I mean, Mrs. Cappuano.”

  She scowls. “Don’t do that. I’m Sam to you. And yes, I guess you’re right about shock. But you’re doing okay? I was worried about you when you fell off the map for a while there.”

  “I’m doing better than I was. I spent some time away by myself, got through the holidays, got my head together a bit, and now I’m super excited to be starting this incredible new job you gave me. It’s been nice to have something new to look forward to.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re okay. If you’re ever not, I’m here for that, too, as your favorite new shit friend who has no time to breathe, let alone make new friends.”

  I laugh at the memory of her describing herself that way to me the first time she said it. “In the legion of shit friends I’ve had, you’re the best.”

  “Aw, I’m honored.”

  “I met your friend Derek Kavanaugh.”

  “Oh good. He’s great, and sadly, you two have a lot in common.” As she says that, she tips her head and gives me a more penetrating look.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off,” I say, laughing.

  “I’m only thinking that you two have a lot in common. Unfortunately.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “He’s one of Nick’s closest friends. Has been for years.”

  “We’ve met a few times—we live in the same neighborhood—but I had no idea who he was.” She doesn’t need to know that I borderline stalked him. “Until I saw him here today.”

  “Ah, I see. Remember the thing that got Arnie Patterson locked up?”

  “Yes, I already know it was Derek’s wife who was killed.”

  “It was horrible. I worked that case. Total nightmare, especially the several days it took us to find Maeve.”

  “God, poor Derek.”

  “It was awful for him, but it helped a bit for him to find out later that Vic protected him and that she really loved him, despite how it began.”

  “How did he find that out?”

  “In a letter that came from her attorney, something she did in the event that the worst happened.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.” My heart aches for someone I barely know. “He must’ve been so relieved to hear that.”

  “He was, but it didn’t change the fact that she was still gone, you know?”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  “If you’re interested in getting to know him better, down the road, of course…”

  “Of course,” I murmur, amused by her.

  “I can help with that. My track record is somewhat legendary when it comes to matchmaking.”

  “That’s good to know, but I’m hardly in a position to be thinking about such things. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  “You’re not. Not at all. It’s already registered with me that at some point, I’m probably going to have to face the reality of starting over with someone new.”

  “That doesn’t have to happen any time soon.”

  “I’m taking it one day at a time and keeping my mind open to everything that comes my way.”

  “I give you so much credit for getting through this with so much grace.”

  That makes me laugh. “Don’t look below the surface. It’s ugly in there.”

  “Be nice to my new friend. She’s amazing and brave, and I admire her very much for showing us all how to get through the worst kind of adversity.”

  “Wow, I like the way I look to you.”

  “You should. Well, I’d better get back to the grind. Call me if you need anything at all.”

  “I will. Thank you again for this. I’ll never have the words to tell you what it means to me.”

  “It means just as much to me to have someone I trust watching my back in the shark pit that is my life these days.”

  “I gotcha covered.”

  “Then I shall sleep well at night. Enjoy the rest of your first day.”

  “Will do. Watch for that email later.”

  “I’m on it.” She departs with a smile and a wave that leave me with the warm feeling that comes with having made a new friend of someone I admired long before I got to know her. To find out she’s even more than I ever could’ve hoped for is a gift in the middle of unrelenting grief.

  I take the time to unpack the few personal things I brought from home—my degree from UVA that I hang on a nail that the previous tenant left in the wall, a silver-framed picture from our wedding that I put on my desk and the leather Day-Timer that my parents gave me as a college graduation gift that has a brand-new calendar loaded and ready to record the events of this coming year.

  My husband and colleagues at the Star used to poke fun of my old-school Day-Timer, but I spend enough time staring at a screen all day. I prefer to write things down and to keep a written record of what I do every day. Patrick couldn’t have survived without his iPhone reminding him of every commitment. But he worked in the tech world and was super savvy with computers, phones, tablets or any such device. That’s another thing I’ll miss—having someone who can fix those things for me and everyone else in our lives.

  “What would you think if you could see me now in my office in the White House?” I whisper to his smiling face in the photo from the best day of our lives. “I hate that it only happened because I lost you, but maybe you sent Sam to me, knowing I’d need a fresh start to survive losing you.”

  That possibility is something I cling to as I dive into the details of the FLOTUS social media accounts, Skippy’s Instagram account and the mountain of interviews and s
peaking requests that’ve been submitted for Sam. Everyone wants her in any way they can get her, and it’s my job to determine who should receive the limited amount of time she has to give to being first lady.

  By the time I leave work on my first day, I’ve made a good list of interview requests for Sam to consider and come up with a dozen potential social media posts to keep her engaged as the first lady. I send the promised email, copy Lilia, and then shut down the laptop.

  I remove my heels, stash them under my desk and slide on the sneakers for the walk to the Metro.

  “Good first day?” Lilia asks when I stop to tell her I’m leaving. Should I be leaving before her? She doesn’t seem to care, so I guess I shouldn’t either.

  “Very good. Thanks for making me feel so welcome.”

  “We’re happy to have you. I’m happy to have you. Doing your job and mine has been a challenge.”

  “Roni to the rescue.”

  “Indeed. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  8

  Roni

  As I walk toward the East Wing lobby, I wonder if I’ll see Derek again, although why would I when he works in the West Wing? I can’t stop thinking about his story and how awful it must’ve been for him after his wife died and his little girl was missing. As bad as what happened to Patrick was, I can’t imagine how awful that had to have been for Derek. And then to learn that the woman who became his wife was planted in his life to get intel on Nelson… I shudder in the January chill as I walk to the Metro station.

  Total nightmare.

  Tears fill my eyes as I walk. Life can be so very cruel. People can be so very cruel. Imagine Arnie Patterson wanting to be president badly enough to plant a woman close to Nelson, to get her to pretend to fall in love with a man all as part of a diabolical conspiracy. How did someone go on after a thing like that? Even after Derek found out his wife really did fall in love with him and stopped cooperating with Patterson and his thugs, how did he cope with everything he learned?