“I’m not asking for a political assessment. I’m asking for your appraisal of what that position entails and who is best qualified to occupy that role.”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Usually, the director had prosecutorial experience. That’s not my expertise.”
“But, you work hand in hand with prosecutors.”
“Yes…”
“Okay,” Candace went on. “Who jumps to mind? More importantly, who would you trust?”
Alex sighed. Who did she trust? Trust was a precious commodity in Alex’s line of work. She cared for many people. She enjoyed friendships with people. The circle of trust in Alex’s life was comparatively small. “I trust the people in this room,” Alex said.
“Somehow, Alex, I don’t see any of us stepping into the FBI as its director,” Candace offered. “Unless, of course, you’re entering your application now.”
“Me? No thanks.”
Candace chuckled. “Then who?”
“Rebecca Troy,” Alex replied.
Candace leaned back in her chair. Rebecca Troy had served within the Justice Department for nearly twenty years. Candace recalled her confirmation as US State’s Attorney for the District of Columbia vividly. Troy was considered intelligent, thorough, and a Pitbull in the courtroom. She’d read a few of Rebecca Troy’s closing arguments and was familiar with a number of the cases Troy had successfully tried. “Why Troy?”
“She asks the right questions,” Alex said. “She has an investigator’s brain. She doesn’t look for easy convictions. She’s determined to get it right—not just get someone.”
“And, Lansing?”
“Tired,” Alex said. “Bitter. I don’t know. He’s interested in numbers, Candace, not justice.”
“And, if Troy were the director? Would that create a more favorable environment for what I am requesting?”
“Hard to say. I don’t know Rebecca that well. My sense is that she’s loyal to her job, not to the person who put her in it.”
“Let the chips fall as they will?” Candace asked.
“Something like that, yes,” Alex replied.
Candace turned to Jane. “What do you think?”
“Rebecca Troy doesn’t have any alliances in my world that I’m aware of. She was appointed when John was in office,” Jane recalled.
“I remember,” Candace said. “Look, Lansing’s number is up. It’s up in a year. That doesn’t mean I can’t make a change before that.”
“Candace, like I said, I’m no politician, but aren’t you worried that people will think this is over the top?”
“No,” Candace said. “I’ll admit, making a change immediately wasn’t on my radar. Ansel is only a link,” she said. “We know he’s linked to Rusnac, and I know that Rusnac helped line Lawson Klein’s pockets.”
“And Bradley Wolfe’s,” Jane interjected.
“Yes,” Candace said. “National security entails more than preventing ground wars, missile launches, and terrorist attacks. We all know that. There are a million ways to effectively render us paralyzed, and too many vulnerabilities our adversaries can exploit. We all know that there are entities within this government who aren’t only willing, but who would be eager to help—whether it’s for financial gain or some sick sense of power. I know what I’m asking. I wouldn’t ask if I believed I had another alternative.”
“What about the appearance of,” Alex began.
Candace shrugged. “Someone will always take issue with everything I do. That’s nothing new. Changing straight away makes sense. It allows me to start with a seamless team.”
“Ask Tate his opinion,” Alex suggested.
Candace nodded. “Alex, I won’t hold it against you if you refuse. I know that you intended to leave that life behind.”
Alex sighed. She’d accepted a role back at the FBI reluctantly a year earlier, after five years away from investigative work. She’d held positions at the DOD, NSA, and CIA during her career. One thing Alex did know, the world was a dangerous place. Thankfully, most people lived in blissful unawareness of the threats that loomed daily. She’d hoped that stepping away might secure her family’s safety. If only it could. Cassidy often reminded Alex that safety was an illusion. The best anyone could do to protect the people they loved was to be present and honest, and to do their best at whatever they did best. Alex was best at solving puzzles. “Tell me this much,” Alex requested.
“I’ll tell you whatever I can,” Candace promised.
“How important is this to you?” Alex asked.
“It’s not about me, Alex. It’s about us—all of us. Progress is painful. It doesn’t come without upheaval. You know that as well as I do. Progress as you and I see it, that type of progress means evening the playing field. Not everyone wants to compete on a level field. Some people prefer to stay atop the hills they’ve enjoyed for eons. That means relegating someone else to the valleys below. Those people will always exist. They are the wall builders. We are the bridge builders. There is no me, and there is no you. That’s their narrative. What I am asking you to do isn’t for me; it’s for us.”
Alex nodded her understanding.
“What about Claire?” Candace asked.
“I trust Claire with my life. She’ll be on board,” Alex promised.
Candace looked at Jane.
“You have me at your disposal. You do realize what you are suggesting we create?” Jane asked Candace.
Candace nodded. “I do.”
“Then count me in,” Jane said.
“Good.”
***
Jameson shook her head in disbelief.
Cassidy laughed. “Alex should have warned you.”
“Candace tried,” Jameson confessed. “Where did you learn to play?”
“Alex,” Cassidy said. “She gave me lessons.” Cassidy smirked.
“Ah.” Jameson chuckled.
“Even I can’t beat her,” Dylan said. “Mom has a competitive side.”
“Not really,” Cassidy dismissed the thought.
“Yeah, right.” Dylan laughed. “Did you know that Mom almost became an Olympic skier?”
“You’re kidding,” Jameson said.
“He is,” Cassidy replied.
“Am not. You could have,” Dylan said.
“In my experience, if you could have; you would have,” Cassidy commented.
“You could have,” Dylan said. “She’s still amazing on the slopes,” he told Jameson.
Cassidy rolled her eyes. “Still? Are you implying I’m old?”
“Not old, just older,” Dylan teased.
Cassidy laughed. “Can’t argue with that.” She picked Fallon up from her portable crib. “Why don’t you give Cooper a lesson down here?”
“Sure,” Dylan said. “What do you say, Coop?”
“Yeah!” Cooper jumped up and down.
“Twist his arm; why don’t you?” Jameson laughed. “We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” she told Dylan.
“Me and Coop will be fine,” Dylan promised.
“Feel like a beer?” Jameson asked Cassidy.
“I would love one.”
“I hope Dylan is okay entertaining Cooper.”
“It’ll break him in for tomorrow when we get home. He’ll have three Coopers vying for his attention.”
“You sure do have your hands full,” Jameson said. “I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how Candace did it all those years.”
“What’s that?” Cassidy asked.
“Raise kids and work.”
“I don’t really work,” Cassidy said.
“That’s not how Candace tells it.”
“Candace is generous. I love helping her. I only help; believe me.”
“I think you help more than you realize.” Jameson reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. “So? Any idea what this visit is all about or should I not ask?”
Cassidy jostled Fallon on her hip, accepted a beer and shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you
want my best guess?”
“Please.”
“I would imagine Candace is hoping Alex and Jane have some information she needs. That, or she’s hoping they’ll help her get the information she needs.”
Jameson nodded.
“Worried about her?” Cassidy guessed.
“It’s not like I didn’t know we were walking into a hornet’s nest,” Jameson confessed. “Maybe it’s just becoming real. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change it. Candace is meant to do this. At least, I think she is.”
“She is.”
“It’s strange; you know? To me, she’s Candace. I see what everyone else sees in her, but she’s my wife. It’s hard sometimes to remember she’s about to become the leader of the free world. Sometimes, I wonder how I ended up here.”
Cassidy smiled. “I understand.”
“Somehow, I thought you might.”
Cassidy followed Jameson into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. “Life throws us some insane curveballs,” she said.
“No joke.” Jameson chuckled. “I never imagined myself married or a mom, much less married to the president-elect.”
Cassidy winked. “I know it isn’t easy, JD.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, people like Candace and Alex, they thrive living in the broader world. They can say that’s not true, but it’s who they are.”
Cassidy had hit the proverbial nail on the head. Candace often protested her need to continue up the political ladder, to be immersed in the world’s problems, and to solve them. That part of Candace’s world was as much a part of who she was as being a mom or wife could ever be. Jameson accepted that.
“They’re different from us,” Cassidy offered. “People think that Candace and I are alike.”
“You are,” Jameson said.
“In some ways. Just like you and Alex are alike in some ways. But, JD, I think the truth is you and I are more similar.”
“You do?”
“I do. I don’t need that world. I see it. I know it exists. I know that the world requires people like Alex and Candace. Alex is always telling me that I should think about doing something more for myself—professionally.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“I’ll bet it does. She has some crazy idea that I gave something up to have our family, to allow her to follow her path.”
“That sounds familiar too.”
Cassidy chuckled. “It’s not that I don’t find it all fascinating; I do. I didn’t sacrifice anything. She’s my path; if that makes sense. I have what I’ve always wanted. It’s more than enough for me.”
Jameson sipped her beer thoughtfully. “Can I tell you something?”
“I hope so.”
“I never thought about having a family until I met Candace.”
“And now?”
The weight of the truth fell on Jameson as she began to speak. “And now, it’s the only thing that matters to me, Cassidy. Candace, the kids—I know a time will come when I will go back to work. It’ll come in time. I don’t know what that will look like. I don’t think about it. I think about…”
“What?” Cassidy urged gently.
“Sometimes, I think about what I missed with all of them. I wish we could have had it all together.”
“Mmm. In that way, you are just like Alex.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Alex missed the first six years of Dylan’s life. I think they both mourn that at times. He sees her with Kenzie or the twins; she sees Fallon do something, and they both wish they could have that memory of each other.”
Jameson nodded.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Cassidy wondered.
“What?”
“Having a baby with Candace?” Cassidy asked.
Jameson closed her eyes. She had. “I have.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Cassidy asked.
“I know that’s not what’s best for us,” Jameson said. “I do know that. We have Coop and I’m so grateful for that every day.”
“I can imagine.”
“But we missed time with him too.”
“It’s not easy,” Cassidy said.
“No, but I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“I think I understand.”
“I’m glad she has you,” Jameson said.
“Me?”
“Yeah. She trusts you, Cassidy. She feels like she can talk to you about the things she might not want to share with anyone else. You’re her best friend; you know that; don’t you?”
Cassidy smiled. She and Candace had grown incredibly close over the last two years. They spoke daily, and their conversations covered far more topics than public appearances or political issues. Children, wives, aging parents, hopes, fears, dreams—they confided in each other about all of it. Cassidy knew what was in Candace’s heart when it came to both her career and her family. She was grateful for the way their friendship had grown. And, she was aware that Candace felt the same way.
“Well, I will tell you something,” Cassidy said.
“What’s that?”
“If there is anything that you are holding back from Candace—don’t.”
Jameson sighed.
“Don’t,” Cassidy repeated. “I learned that the hard way with Alex. Tell her, JD. She loves you.”
“I know.”
“She can handle it, and she wants you to tell her. Alex and I, we’ve made that misstep a few times—held something back. It always backfires in the end.”
Jameson appreciated Cassidy’s candor. She told Candace almost everything. She’d said nothing about the fact that her biological clock suddenly seemed to be knocking at her brain.
“It’s normal, JD,” Cassidy said. “What you’re feeling; it’s normal. It doesn’t mean it’ll lead to anything more than a conversation. Tell her anyway.”
Jameson sighed. I’ll think about it.
***
“You’ve been quiet,” Candace observed.
Jameson nestled closer to her wife. “I had a long talk with Cassidy.”
Candace ran her fingers through Jameson’s hair. “A good talk?”
“I think so.”
“Want to share?”
“Candace?”
“Hum?”
“When you… When you…”
“When I what?”
“When you hit forty did you start thinking about kids?”
Candace pulled Jameson a little closer. Ah, the truth comes out. “I did.”
“Really? You already had three.”
“You have four and you’re thinking about it,” Candace said.
“Not exactly. I didn’t give birth to any of them.” Jameson sighed. “Do you think it’s strange?”
“That you find yourself thinking about having a baby? No.”
“But I never thought about it,” Jameson said. “Ever. Not ever.”
“Things change sometimes.”
“You’re not upset?”
Candace shifted so she could look at Jameson. “Upset? Honey, why on earth would you think that?”
“Because. Because I know that’s not something you want. We agreed.”
“Jameson, are you trying to tell me you want to try to have a baby?”
“No,” Jameson said. “I’m not.”
“But?”
“But part of me wonders if I’ll regret that I didn’t.”
Candace kissed Jameson’s lips tenderly. “I told you a long time ago that if that’s what you wanted, I would be open to it.”
“Why am I so confused?”
“Because our life is upside down right now,” Candace said. “And, because you are feeling the gravity of time.”
“Maybe.”
“Jameson, you can tell me anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I just… I can’t imagine going through that. And, you have so much on your plate. It’s just… watching Shell and now… I don�
��t know. Don’t you think Marianne and Scott will try to have a baby?”
“Probably.”
Jameson sighed. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
Jameson placed her head on Candace’s breast. “I wouldn’t be thinking about it if we weren’t together.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“No, I don’t think so. And, Candace? I’m not saying it is something I want. I feel like I’ve been hiding the truth from you.”
Candace kissed Jameson’s temple. “Sweetheart, no offense, you can’t hide much from me.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected you were wrestling with it; yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Jameson wondered.
“Because I knew you would when you were ready.”
Jameson let out a sigh of relief.
“Feel better?”
“I do,” Jameson confessed. “I don’t think it’s something I want to do but I can’t help that I wonder about it.”
“No, you can’t. You can talk to me about anything. Don’t forget that.”
“I know. It’s just this is something that…”
“It’s something that’s on your mind. That makes it something that matters to me,” Candace said. “I realize that having a baby isn’t something you’ve yearned to do. And, I know that you’ve been reluctant to tell me what you’re feeling because of all the change.”
“It’s not just that.”
“And, because we’ve discussed this before.”
“Exactly.”
“Jameson, life changes sometimes. People grow, not just our kids; we grow too. There are a lot of things I am unsure about. The one thing I am certain of in my life is you. Don’t forget that. There isn’t anything on this earth you couldn’t ask me for. That much I can promise you.”
“I love you; you know?”
“Of course, I know. I love you too.”
Jameson took the first deep breath she had in weeks. Everything she’d told Candace was true. She had been thinking about her ticking biological clock. Would she regret never having a child? Did she want to share that with Candace? Would she look back and wonder what might have been someday? Her feelings were ill-timed. Maybe it was all the gentle teasing from Shell and Jonah about her joining the baby club. It was more than that, and Jameson knew it. It was about her love for Candace. It was about Cooper and how much she reveled in being his mother. It was all of it, and as hard as Jameson tried, she’d been unable to banish her thoughts and feelings on the subject. Knowing that Candace understood relieved the weight she’d been carrying for weeks. She decided to shift topics. “How was your talk with Alex and Jane?”
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