Eighteen Acres

by Nicolle Wallace

  “Wow. That really is a game changer!” Dale exclaimed.

  “As you said, we are about four to six points back in our internals. We need to change things up or resign ourselves to a certain outcome, and the only thing I could think of to get the right wing to stop sticking knives in my back is to put a Democrat a heartbeat away from the Oval Office. That way, I’ll be more use to them alive,” Charlotte said, beaming with excitement.

  Dale smiled back at her. “She’s your game changer in more ways than one.”

  “If you’re interested, I thought you could do the first, and only, interview with the outgoing VP and his wife and Tara and her family, assuming that the vetting doesn’t turn up anything troubling. And me, of course. We’d have to tape tomorrow night. What do you think?” Charlotte asked.

  “Madam President, that is very generous. Thank you,” Dale said.

  “No ground rules. No time limit. You can ask us anything. If you say yes, Melanie will work it out with Billy.”

  “This is incredible. Yes, of course I’ll do it. Thank you again!” Dale exclaimed.

  “Good. I’m so pleased,” Charlotte said.

  “I’ll be in touch with Melanie, then. And I’ll let you get back to work,” Dale said, rising to leave.

  “Dale, do you want to know why Peter started hating me?” Charlotte said.

  “I’m sorry?” Dale said.

  “Do you understand what Peter does for a living?”

  “Of course,” Dale said.

  “But do you understand why he’s so good at it?”

  “I think so. He’s brilliant and easygoing and everyone trusts him.”

  “Yes, he’s all those things. But the reason he’s the best in the business is that he knows how to chart a path for his clients, and he does it with such a gentle touch they don’t even know they’re being handled. He is better at it than anyone I have ever known. At some point, I shut him out. I stopped letting him help me chart my path. I thought that the problems I had were too difficult for him to solve. I turned to the experts,” Charlotte said quietly, the regret visible on her face. “Let him help you, Dale.”

  Dale smiled at her. She’d never thought of Peter that way. Charlotte had just given her some very good advice. “Thank you,” Dale said. “For everything.”

  Charlotte’s face became veiled again. “So, we’re all set. I will see you tomorrow night,” she said, standing.

  They shook hands, and Dale walked out of the residence and toward her car parked outside the East Wing. She couldn’t believe that the president was the one person willing to throw her a lifeline. It had been nearly three months since Billy had sentenced her to network-news purgatory. He had given her the title “national correspondent,” but so far, there had not been a single assignment for her. She hadn’t appeared on the air since her return from Afghanistan. To make matters worse, they’d refused to let her out of her contract because of the investment they’d made in grooming her for the anchor chair.

  Dale cranked the air conditioner in her car and started thinking through the script she’d write. Candidates had floated the idea of a unity ticket before, but no one had ever had the guts to try it. Charlotte’s announcement would either dismantle what was left of her political coalition or get voters to give her a second look. Dale was eager to tell Peter the news. She dialed his number, and the call went straight to voice-mail. She went home to their house in Georgetown. She called his cell phone two more times, and he didn’t answer. She pulled a black skirt and a turquoise blouse out of her closet for the interview and then sat in front of the computer and started drafting questions for the president, the vice president, and the new nominee.

  “Hey, honey, you in here?” she heard Peter call from the front entryway.

  “Hi. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you,” she said.

  “We took off late because of fog, and I forgot to turn the phone off during the flight, so the battery was dead when I landed. Is everything OK?”

  “Everything is better than OK. Charlotte called me this morning.”

  Peter stood very still and said nothing.

  “I went over to the residence, and she told me that the veep is stepping down and she’s putting a Democrat on the ticket. She offered me the exclusive interview with the VP and the new nominee and her family,” she said proudly.

  Peter exhaled. “That’s great, Dale. That’s really great, honey,” he said with a smile Dale recognized as forced.

  “Don’t you want to know who she picked?” Dale asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Tara Meyers, the New York AG. Ballsy move, don’t you think?” Dale said.

  “Very,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. If this is something you want to do, I’m behind you one hundred percent,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “Why can’t you just be excited for me?”

  “I am excited for you. You’re the best person to do the interview. And Charlotte was smart to pick you. She has good intentions, but she also knows that you’ll give the story the time it deserves and that Billy will run the whole thing because he’s basically run you off the air.”

  “But I can tell you don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.

  “That’s not it. I am just protective of you,” he said.

  “Why do you have to do that?” Dale complained.

  “Do what? Be protective?” he asked.

  “No. Why do you have to knock the one good thing that’s happened to me since this whole stupid thing blew up in my face and ruined my career?” she said, fighting back tears of frustration.

  Peter appeared to swallow whatever his first thought was. When he spoke, he did so in a low voice. “I don’t want you to get disappointed again. One interview doesn’t change anything,” he said. “They aren’t going to suddenly remember how talented you are and give you your job back. They’ll air the interview, thank you for your good work, and go back to ignoring you because they don’t know how to deal with you.”

  “How do you know it won’t change anything?” Dale asked.

  “I don’t. Tell me I’m wrong. I’d love to be wrong,” he said.

  She stared out toward the garden. She was too frustrated to speak without saying something she knew she’d regret later.

  “Dale, don’t make a decision right now. Think about it for a couple of hours. I’m behind you whatever you do.”

  “It doesn’t change anything,” she said, her eyes glued to the window.

  “And it makes you part of the story again,” Peter said.

  Dale looked at the outfit she’d pulled out of her closet and felt foolish for thinking that one interview could erase the revelation of her three-year affair with the president’s husband and return her to broadcast-news prominence. She still had an urge to yell at Peter or throw something at him, but she knew he was right.

  And she remembered Charlotte’s words. She stewed silently for a few more minutes. When she turned to look at Peter, he was staring at her intently.

  “The president and her new nominee are expecting me at the residence for the interview tomorrow night,” she said. “What do you suggest I do?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Charlotte

  Dale was supposed to be here at eight,” Charlotte said, glancing at the clock in the Map Room.

  “I’ll go check East Exec to see if she’s arrived yet,” Melanie suggested.

  “I’ll come with you,” Charlotte said, rising to walk out of the room where Neal and his wife, Mary, were sitting across from Tara and her husband on yellow loveseats. “Maybe you can talk to Tara about her look,” Charlotte said to Melanie as they walked toward the east entrance of the White House. Tara was wearing a bright white suit that was made of some sort of stretchy material that hugged her thighs when she walked. The outlines of her undergarments were visible, and she wore an orange tank top and matching high heels.

&nb
sp; Melanie groaned inwardly. “Sure,” she said.

  They walked out to the driveway just as Peter’s car was pulling in.

  “Here she is,” Charlotte said.

  The car came to a stop, and the back door opened. Brian stepped out.

  “What are you doing here?” Melanie asked him, astonished. She’d thought he was in Michigan.

  “I don’t know. Dale said it was an emergency. She and Peter picked me up at the airport about twenty minutes ago and told me they’d explain when we got here,” he said.

  Dale stepped out of the passenger side and walked toward Melanie and Charlotte. “Madam President, I appreciate what you tried to do for me. It’s more than anyone has done for me in a long time,” Dale began.

  Charlotte folded her arms in front of her chest and shook her head ever so slightly. “Melanie, why don’t you bring Brian to the Map Room and explain what’s happening tomorrow? We’ll get started in a few minutes,” Charlotte said.

  Brian looked puzzled. Melanie’s face turned white. She hadn’t revealed Charlotte’s news about Tara when they spoke by phone that morning, and she thought she had twelve more hours to figure out how to explain why she couldn’t tell him, even off the record. Their arrangement regarding off-the-record information had worked out smoothly so far. Melanie told him things—never pertaining to national security, but everything else—on an off-the-record basis and insisted that he seek out independent sources if he pursued any of the topics she shared with him. It was how dozens of reporter and source couples survived life in Washington.

  She and Brian turned and headed back toward the residence.

  “Dale, I didn’t ask you to do the interview because I felt sorry for you. I asked you to do the interview because you’re the only person who would wrap the announcement into the larger sweep of history and not cover it as a political maneuver,” Charlotte said.

  “I appreciate that,” Dale said.

  “It’s true,” Charlotte said.

  “It doesn’t seem to matter to anyone in New York,” Dale said wistfully.

  Charlotte shook her head again and sighed. “Do you know what I was thinking about when I sat next to you in the hospital?”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Dale said.

  “I kept thinking, how long until she realizes that we did more than nearly kill her? In some ways, I felt worse about taking away your very bright career.”

  “You realized I was finished at the network before I did,” Dale said.

  “What are you going to do now?” Charlotte asked.

  “I mailed my resignation letter on the way over here. Billy will get it in the morning. We’re going to spend some time in San Francisco. Peter will see the kids on the weekends, of course, still. Maybe I’ll freelance or produce or take time off. I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

  “Thank you. And good luck tomorrow with all of this.” Dale motioned toward the residence.

  “You’ll watch the speech from San Francisco?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes, of course. Peter talked to the twins on the way over, and they’re very excited about being in Philly with you this week.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I’d better get back inside.”

  “Brian will do a good job with the interview,” Dale said, turning back toward the car.

  Peter was standing a few feet away.

  “Good night, Peter,” Charlotte said, nodding in his direction.

  He nodded back and put an arm around Dale.

  Charlotte stood and watched Peter help Dale into the car. She waited until they’d driven past the iron gates, and then she walked down the stairs to stand in the driveway. She’d never noticed how many gates there were protecting her from the outside world. It was a steamy night, and the humid air felt good. She took a deep breath and wondered if rolling the dice on Tara Meyers would pay off.

  Meyers was a law-and-order Democrat. She’d been the U.S. attorney for the southern district of New York and had prosecuted terrorist cases during the Martin administration—a nonpartisan post. When she’d run for attorney general as a Democrat, New York Republicans were disappointed. She’d won her first statewide race with sixty-four percent of the vote. She had an excellent reputation in law-enforcement circles, and when she’d landed in the national spotlight for prosecuting one of the big investment banks, she’d gained additional admirers. Meyers had a six-year-old daughter, and her husband was an FBI agent. They seemed perfectly suited for a life in politics. Charlotte sighed as she turned to walk back toward the Map Room for the interview. Life took such strange turns, she mused. She never thought she’d be bidding her husband and his girlfriend a goodnight while she prepared to upend the political world order by tapping a Democrat as her VP. She shivered as the air conditioned air blasted her warm skin. Charlotte rubbed her arms and steeled herself for the political attacks that were sure to come from Democrats and Republicans.

  Brian conducted a short interview with the outgoing vice president. He honed in on questions about what McMillan wanted his political legacy to be. Then he interviewed Charlotte and Tara together about serving as a team after meeting for the first time only days earlier. Finally, he interviewed Tara about her record as attorney general and her political views on a host of social and foreign-policy issues.

  When they finished, Brian thanked everyone and turned to leave.

  Melanie followed him into the hallway. “I’m sorry for not telling you about this,” Charlotte heard Melanie say to Brian.

  He didn’t say anything. Charlotte watched as he kept walking toward the North Lawn of the White House. Melanie stood in the middle of the hallway, watching him walk away.

  “Did you see the way he looked at me?” Melanie said to Charlotte when she noticed her standing behind her.

  “Yes. His ego is bruised because you didn’t spill the beans about Tara. He’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t know,” Melanie said.

  “If he doesn’t, you were going to get in trouble at some point anyway,” Charlotte said.

  Melanie stared in the direction in which he’d walked away.

  “Don’t worry about it tonight, Melanie. Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” Charlotte stood there for another moment before turning to head up the stairs toward the residence.

  Once upstairs, she read through her convention speech and reviewed the stage directions so she’d know where to stand for the vice president’s speech and where to turn when Tara came onto the stage. The press would go nuts over the announcement. As much as they loved the unexpected, they hated to be surprised; it made them look bad.

  Charlotte wandered around her bedroom, straightening items that didn’t need straightening and triple-checking her luggage for the next day. She looked at the dogs sleeping in a heap of cinnamon-colored fur in the center of her bed. She smiled and climbed in beside them.

  She wasn’t tired yet, and she wanted to share the news about Tara with someone. She dialed Brooke and Mark’s number. They were flying to Philadelphia in the morning to be there for her speech. Brooke picked up on the first ring.

  “Hi,” she said. “It’s Charlotte.”

  “I know, silly,” Brooke answered.

  “Were you sleeping?” she asked.

  “It’s only ten P.M. here. What’s up?”

  “I might have done something crazy tonight,” Charlotte said.

  “You didn’t fire Ralph, did you?” Brooke asked.

  “No, I didn’t fire Ralph, for Christ’s sake. I picked a Democrat for vice president.”

  “Holy shit,” Brooke said.

  “It’s a secret, but the vice president is going to introduce me tomorrow at the convention and announce that he’s stepping aside. Then I’m going to come out and announce a new running mate.”

  “Can I tell Mark?” Brooke asked.

  “Of course. Just tell him not to talk about it at the airport or on his cell phone.”

  “Oh, wait, I
forgot to ask. Who is it?” Brooke asked.

  “New York attorney general Tara Meyers,” Charlotte said.

  “Wow. You might be stuck with this gig for four more years after all,” Brooke said.

  “It should not be possible that I can win, should it?” she asked.

  “Probably not. But voters like the way you’ve handled yourself, Char. You’ve been tough and graceful. I’m proud of you,” Brooke said.

  “Don’t screw it up by telling your neighbors. This is top, top secret,” Charlotte warned.

  “I got it. I’ve got to go talk to the nanny about the kids’ schedules. We’ll see you tomorrow night, Char. Love you.”

  “You, too. Give the kids a hug from me,” Charlotte said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Melanie

  Melanie ignored Charlotte’s advice and followed Brian to the North Lawn of the White House, where he was taping a stand-up.

  “Brian, please, can we talk about this?” she asked while he rehearsed.

  He didn’t look away from the camera.

  “Are you even going to look at me?” she asked.

  He stopped and turned to face her. “What the hell are we doing, Melanie? Do you think it’s funny that I sleep in your bed at night and listen to hours and hours of your complaints about your horrible job, and then when something this big is happening, I don’t get any sort of signal or warning that something major is coming? It takes Dale Smith calling me and telling me she’s been handed a big scoop by the White House and she wants to hand it off to me. The funniest thing is that Dale assumed I already knew. That’s why she asked me.” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice had an edge to it that she’d never heard before.

  “I didn’t have a choice about Dale,” Melanie said.

  “I believe you. And I’m not mad that Dale got the scoop and the interview, but I have never compromised the things you’ve told me, and I’ve never violated our agreement about what stays off the record and what I shouldn’t even hear in the first place. I would rather be the last person on a story than betray your trust,” he said.