Eighteen Acres

by Nicolle Wallace

  “Billy, please don’t bullshit me. I’m going to be well enough to start working again in a month or so. I want to know if I have a job at the network,” Dale insisted.

  “I don’t know exactly where, but yes, you will always have a job here.”

  “You don’t know where? What in the world does that mean?” Dale practically shrieked.

  Peter stood up and walked toward her.

  “Dale, let’s talk when you’re released. I’d like to come see you next week, either at Bethesda or at home.”

  “Fine. That’s fine. I’ll see you next week,” Dale said, placing the phone in its cradle.

  “What did he say?” Peter asked.

  “Nothing. He said nothing. How did this happen? I left here with an exclusive interview with the president, and somehow I’ve returned without a job,” she said bitterly.

  Peter put his hands over hers, which were still gripping the phone. “You’re forgetting something,” he said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re stuck with me now, too,” he said, smiling.

  She tried to smile back at him, but having their relationship out in the open was turning out to be more difficult than she’d imagined.

  He sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Of course it is. You’re getting hate mail from all the right-wing nuts, and your face has been plastered all over the tabloids. And your big crime is being with me. I’m so sorry for all the ways this is going to change your life.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You can’t blame Billy for not wanting to put you back at the White House. Charlotte is going to be dealing with the fallout from the crash every day until the election, and it’s not like you can cover that story with a reporter’s objectivity, Dale.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “And from Billy’s perspective, there’s the fact that you’ve been engaged in a secret affair with the president’s husband,” Peter said. “I’m sure there are viewers who want to see you get fired.”

  Dale remained silent. Slowly, it was sinking in. Her career as a network correspondent and anchor was probably over. Of course, they couldn’t stand her in front of the White House and ask her to report on the president’s day or sit her at the anchor desk and expect the viewers to take her seriously. She was the first husband’s secret mistress, and she’d played a role in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan that could result in the president being impeached. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes down to her pillowcase. Peter pushed her hair away from her eyes and sat with her while she cried. The tears kept coming. She cried for what she’d lost, but she also cried tears of shame. If she’d been given a choice between being with Peter and never working again as a correspondent and giving up Peter to keep her job, she wasn’t sure what she’d choose. And fueling her tears was the fact that she hadn’t been given a choice at all.

  While Peter seemed to fall naturally into the new public phase of their relationship, Dale cringed every time someone described her as Peter’s girlfriend. She was starting to remember things from the day of the crash. One of the thoughts she’d had that day was to request a rotation in the Mideast bureau to hone her skills as a foreign correspondent. She remembered thinking, as she flew low over the Afghan mountains, that it just might give her the upper hand in the competition for weeknight anchor. None of that mattered now. She was on the outside looking in at the world she’d worked so hard to penetrate.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Charlotte

  Charlotte woke up before her alarm and looked out the window of her hotel room. New York wasn’t an early city like Washington D.C., and at four-thirty A.M., there wasn’t much activity on the street below. She looked at the tables and chairs set up on the sidewalk outside the restaurant next to the hotel and thought about how soon the kids would be out of school for summer break. The last time she’d been in New York, it had snowed.

  She climbed out of bed and grabbed her briefing book off the desk. She’d tape interviews with two of the morning shows at six A.M. and six-thirty A.M., and then she would do the third network morning show live at seven A.M. From there, she’d go straight to two of the daytime talk shows for sit-down interviews. It was all part of what Ralph had coined the “Sympathy Tour.” He was convinced that she had an opening to show voters a different side of her personality. She thought it was unseemly that voters should have to endure the details of her failed marriage, but Ralph and Melanie rarely agreed on anything, and they both thought she had an opportunity to come across as more human in the wake of the crash.

  She sighed and glanced at the briefing paper that the press office had prepared for her: “Topics will include: the breakup of your marriage, how a separation might affect the twins, and whether it’s all worth it. They might get to the crash, too, but just say it is still under investigation.”

  She put the briefing paper back in the binder and pulled out the draft of the speech she planned to give when she got back to Washington. The speech was too sensitive to circulate among the entire senior staff and Cabinet. Charlotte’s said “One of five” on the top. Melanie, Ralph, the vice president, and the chief speechwriter held the only other copies. Charlotte’s pulse quickened a bit when she read it. No one would her accuse her of not thinking outside the box once they heard this speech.

  Charlotte made notes on her copy. She glanced at the clock. It was five A.M. She asked the Situation Room to dial Melanie’s home number.

  “Hi, Melanie. Am I getting you at a bad time?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’m about to head into the office. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just went over the first draft of the speech, and I wanted to talk through the final section, but we can do it later today if this is a bad time.”

  “Did you read the briefing papers for the morning shows?” Melanie asked.

  “Yes, I read them,” Charlotte said.

  “Don’t be afraid to open up. Ignore the anchors. You’re talking to people like my mom. Voters are pulling for you for the first time in your career. You have to let them.”

  “I know, I know. Talk about my feelings, blah, blah, blah. I’ve got it,” she said.

  “Do you need me to take down your edits on the speech now?”

  “No, I can tell you’re trying to get ready. I’ll call you after my emotional colonoscopy is over,” Charlotte said.

  “Come on, it won’t be that bad.” Melanie laughed.

  Charlotte sighed loudly. “It will all be over in a few months anyway.”

  “Don’t say that! You’re not going to lose,” Melanie insisted.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that after this November, I will never run for anything ever again.”

  “Amen,” Melanie said. “How’d your other meetings go last night?”

  “Good. Billy came to see me. He’s struggling to try to figure out how they cover the whole crash investigation without making the network part of the story. Billy isn’t going to put Dale back at the White House, and he said he doesn’t think he can use her on the air at all right now.”

  “I know,” Melanie said.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Charlotte asked.

  “Other than hire her, no.”

  “I feel sorry for her,” Charlotte said.

  “Excuse my bluntness here, Madam President, but she did end up with your husband,” Melanie said. “You shouldn’t feel too sorry for her.”

  Charlotte made a sound that was half chortle and half gasp.

  “Moving on,” Melanie said.

  “Yes. I’ll be back there around one P.M., and we can go over the speech. I want it to be short and to the point. We do an update on the parameters of the investigation in one short paragraph. Then we make it crystal-clear: there will be no campaign. We’ll do the basics: the debates, the convention, the Web site and the volunteers, but no rallies, no
political ads, no attacks on my opponent. The country has been through enough, and they have more than enough information about me. I don’t need to have a five-month cat fight with Fran to prove a point.”

  “I’ve got it. Ralph is reviewing the language now. He wants to make sure we don’t inadvertently ignite a third-party movement. The new speech language will be loaded in the teleprompter in the Family Theater for our practice session when you get back,” Melanie said.

  “Good. I’m so happy my demise has finally brought you and Ralph together. If either of you needs me, I’ll be drumming up support from scorned women across America all morning.”

  “No sarcasm. Voters hate sarcasm,” Melanie reminded her.

  “I know, I know, and voters hate when I wear black, and they hate when I wear white, so I’ll be the one in powder blue today.”

  “The indignities of ruling the world!” Melanie exclaimed.

  Charlotte laughed and hung up. She knew she was taking a risk by calling off the campaign. It was a risk she was willing to take if it meant that her family would be spared additional scrutiny and her White House could remain focused on the nation’s business. What she couldn’t predict was how the voters would feel about it, but she pushed aside those concerns and rushed into the bathroom to get ready.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Melanie

  Melanie strode into the Oval with her copy of the New York Times opened to the editorial page. She read out loud from the page while she walked toward Charlotte, who was seated behind her desk reading the overnight intelligence reports.

  “The decision to suspend her campaign cements Charlotte Kramer’s place in American political life as above the fray. She has proven herself as a leader cut out for the complex times we face,” Melanie said, beaming at Charlotte. A glowing review from the New York Times was rare, and as much as they loved to insult the paper, its praise rarely went unnoticed.

  “It was a very smart move, Madam President, very smart. I wasn’t sure at first, but you were right,” Melanie said.

  “It can’t be helpful with the base to have the New York Times fawn all over me,” Charlotte said.

  “No, but they weren’t very excited about your reelection before the speech. And the Times won’t stay impressed with you for long, we can be sure. At least now you have a shot at changing the press narrative. I know it’s not everything, but it’s better than four months of stories about how your defeat is imminent.”

  “True,” Charlotte said. “Is Ralph out there, or did he get hauled off to the medical unit when he saw the Times?”

  “He was having his second breakfast in the Mess when I last saw him,” Melanie said.

  “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Charlotte asked.

  “I can’t. I have a date,” she said, blushing.

  “I’d suggest that you bring Brian, but it feels too much like meeting the parents, doesn’t it?” Charlotte said.

  “A little bit. Maybe with a larger group. When are Brooke and Mark coming back to town?” Melanie asked.

  “Soon, I’m sure,” Charlotte said.

  “Did you read the draft statement on the commission findings?”

  “I did not, but I will look at it this morning,” Charlotte said, pulling a thin white folder from the small, neat stack of papers on her desk.

  “Obviously, we don’t know exactly what they’re going to say, but we can assume that they will find Roger’s actions to have violated his authority as secretary of defense,” Melanie said.

  “Will they recommend any criminal charges?” Charlotte asked.

  “I don’t think Congress can do that, but they can certainly indict him in the court of public opinion.”

  “Hasn’t that already happened?” Charlotte asked.

  “Basically, but if the commission finds him guilty of negligence, it will carry more weight. No one will want to touch him.”

  “He didn’t help himself by taking the Fifth every time the commission asked him a question,” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t think he had an explanation for why he ordered Marine One to be put down except to leave the crew on the ground and let you escape. He can’t offer any explanation for leaving them to die, because he doesn’t regret it. And I know him well enough to know that he’ll never see it differently,” Melanie said.

  Charlotte sighed deeply and looked pained as she walked back and forth behind her desk.

  “Madam President?” Melanie asked.

  “Call me if it starts to leak. I don’t want Roger blowing in the wind. As soon as we get the report, we go before the cameras and deliver the statement, even if it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the plan.”

  “Have fun on your date tonight,” Charlotte said.

  “Thanks, and I’ll see you at the economic policy meetings this afternoon,” Melanie said.

  Melanie delivered a speech to the incoming batch of interns in the Old Executive Office Building, had lunch with the secretary of transportation to discuss the Highway Bill, invited a handful of reporters into her office to provide some of the atmospherics surrounding Charlotte’s decision not to campaign for reelection, and then sat through three and a half hours of policy briefings on economic and monetary policy. At around six forty-five, Brian e-mailed.

  “I just finished my live shot. Do you still want to have dinner tonight?”

  “YES!” she wrote back.

  They dined at Hook in Georgetown and walked back to Melanie’s place afterward.

  “Thanks for your help today on the tick-tock. Billy was thrilled that I had the color from your internal process,” Brian said.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Melanie said. “Who says there are no benefits to dating a tired, cranky government official?”

  “Not me,” Brian said, kissing her.

  They fell asleep before the local news came on and woke three hours later to Melanie’s cell phone.

  “Hello?” she mumbled.

  “Melanie, it’s Annie.”

  “What’s wrong?” Melanie asked.

  “The report is out. I just e-mailed it to your White House account.”

  “Thanks for calling, Annie. Try to go back to sleep.”

  “You’re not going to get up and read it now, are you?” Brian asked groggily.

  “I have to,” Melanie said, rubbing her eyes.

  “You already know what’s in it. Everyone knows what’s in it,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow he was holding over his face to block the light.

  “I know, but I should read it again to make sure it’s the same as the version that leaked, don’t you agree?”

  “Fine, go read the report, already. You’ll feel better,” he groused.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  Melanie left the bedroom and turned on the computer on her dining-room table. She added paper to her printer and waited for the two-hundred-page report. She went into the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker. With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, she sat down and started reading the pages off the printer.

  The final report found Roger guilty of gross negligence and behavior unbecoming of a senior government official. The report also found that Roger had acted well beyond his constitutional authority by ordering the landing of Marine One. They were unable to prove that Roger had knowledge that the crew would be attacked by a Taliban missile or that he intended to see them attacked, so the report stopped just short of recommending criminal prosecution. But it did ban Roger from further government service for life. Melanie cringed. He would go crazy.

  She rubbed her forehead and tried to brace herself for the inevitable. Roger would retaliate out of sheer desperation, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. He’d go on Fox News and make his case for the constitutionality of protecting the commander in chief above all others. Charlotte would have to endure watching Roger reduced to pandering to the zealots on the far right, who had always distrusted and disliked her. Melanie was f
rustrated that she couldn’t do more to help. With the affair rumors published by the Dispatch, Peter carrying on with Dale, and all of the various congressional committees and subcommittees focused on further investigations into the crash, there was ample suspicion among the press and Congress that Charlotte’s White House was in complete meltdown.

  That’s why it had been so surprising when Charlotte’s poll numbers had started inching upward. Apparently, voters admired a president who could endure adversity. Something else was at play in Charlotte’s steadily improving poll numbers. In revealing Peter and Dale’s relationship, Charlotte had admitted that she wasn’t perfect, that she was prone to the same sorts of heartbreaks and humiliations as any other married woman. Her approval numbers among married women doubled. And in the twenty-four hours since Charlotte had announced that she would not campaign for reelection, her approval ratings surged ten more points.

  Melanie pulled up the statement she’d written for Charlotte the day before. Charlotte wanted to take the high road. In the statement, she praised Roger and Stephanie for their service to the country and said she would take the report’s recommendations seriously.

  At around four-thirty, she heard Brian get up and turn on the shower. She reviewed Charlotte’s statement and printed out a copy for him. Once Charlotte delivered the press statement in response to the report, Melanie had to figure out how to get Charlotte reelected in the absence of a campaign.

  Brian came into the dining room in a towel. “Anything in there that I need to know?” he asked.

  “No, it’s the same version I got yesterday. I printed out a copy of Charlotte’s statement for you to take—embargoed—with you this morning.”

  “You’re just trying to get yourself out of the dog house,” he said with a smile while walking into the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee.

  “I am not. I am a good and generous girlfriend looking out for her boyfriend,” she retorted.

  He walked over and gave her a kiss. “Nice try, but you’re still in the dog house,” he said as he walked back into the bedroom to get dressed.