Commander in Chief

by J. A. Armstrong

  “Do you think Laura would want to work with me?”

  “Would you want her to? I think that’s the important question to answer first.”

  Jameson smiled. She would love to work with Laura. Laura was closer to Candace than to Jameson. It would give her a chance to build a rapport with Jonah’s wife, one without Jonah or Candace’s direct influence. “I think I would.”

  “Good. So, let’s look at who else you will need.”

  ***

  Cassidy watched Candace thoughtfully as they sipped their glasses of wine. It was unusual for Candace to appear tense. Tonight, stress seemed to pour off the future president. “Do you want to talk about it?” Cassidy asked.

  “Yes and no,” Candace said.

  “I can understand that.”

  “It must’ve been hard dropping Dylan back at school.” Candace sought to keep the conversation on Cassidy’s life.

  Cassidy sipped her wine. “It just about killed me. I think it was worse for Alex.”

  “I remember when Marianne left. I thought it would get easier with Shell and Jonah.”

  “Did it?”

  “Nope.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Fabulous.”

  “You have plenty of time, Cassidy.”

  “It goes by so fast,” Cassidy said. “I’ll tell you the truth; some days I am exhausted. Between Mackenzie’s activities, the twins, and Fallon, sometimes I forget to breathe.”

  Candace nodded.

  “What’s bothering you?” Cassidy wondered. “It’s not work.”

  Candace sighed. “Jameson told me she doesn’t think that we should have any more children.”

  “Not what you wanted to hear?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “I thought it was.”

  Cassidy smiled. She was hardly surprised by Candace’s reaction. “You know, when I told Alex I wanted to try one more time, she balked.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Then, when I miscarried, I thought that was it. Reluctant doesn’t begin to describe Alex’s feelings when I still wanted to keep trying.”

  “Loss is never easy,” Candace offered.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Lately, Candace’s thoughts had been wandering back to the baby she’d lost more than was usual. “I’ve been thinking about Lucas a lot lately. I’m not sure why.”

  “Change tends to do that,” Cassidy observed. “It does for me. I think it’s the uncertainty. When my father… Well, when he reappeared in my life, I found myself thinking about all the losses—my grandparents, Chris, Alex’s father—all of it. It took me a while to process everything.”

  Candace understood perfectly. Change had a way of making a person examine the paths they’d chosen in life, and the paths that had been chosen for them. “I’m not sure why it has me rattled.”

  “Because you love JD, and family is important to you.”

  Candace sighed. That was true. It was more than that, and Candace didn’t want to admit all the things that were driving her feelings. She hated having no control over her life. She suddenly felt old. She felt time pressing in on her life. That bothered her.

  “Candace?”

  “It just slips by so fast, Cassidy. I hope Jameson realizes that.”

  “It does. Are you worried that she’ll change her mind and it will be too late?”

  “That’s part of it. If I were twenty years younger, she’d have wanted that for us.”

  “You don’t know that,” Cassidy said.

  “I do.”

  “Candace,” Cassidy began gently. “Are you feeling guilty?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “You know that JD wouldn’t want you to feel that way.”

  “I know, but sometimes I can’t help it. I don’t want her to look back one day and wish she’d made different decisions.”

  “I think we all do that,” Cassidy offered.

  “I suppose we do.”

  “I always tell Dylan that it’s normal to wonder. What’s not healthy is dwelling on the past. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve battled with myself over Chris. Why did I marry him? Why did I stay all those years?” Cassidy shook her head. “The only answer I can come up with is that if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the life I do now. I know that. It doesn’t mean I never think about it.”

  Candace smiled genuinely. Cassidy’s words reminded her why Cassidy had become her best friend. Candace had given similar advice to all three of her children. Sometimes, what you knew and what you felt were at odds. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here this weekend,” Candace said.

  Cassidy was happy to spend a weekend with Candace. Much of their time would be spent working. It didn’t matter; work always led to personal discussions for the pair. “I think I should be thanking you.”

  “Hardly.”

  “No, I mean it.” Cassidy sipped her wine and set it aside. “I love Alex. God knows, I love our parents and our kids, but…”

  “But sometimes you need someone to talk to who is removed from it all,” Candace said.

  “Exactly,” Cassidy agreed. “You never know, JD might change her mind.” Cassidy chuckled at Candace’s doubtful expression. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

  “Please.”

  “If it’s something you want, you should tell JD.”

  Candace wasn’t sure that she did want to have any more children. She’d put those longings to bed long before she’d married Jameson. It was odd to her; she had thought that adopting Cooper would quell any stirrings she or Jameson might experience. Cooper’s presence in their lives seemed to have accomplished the opposite. Candace questioned what nagged at her more; the idea that she and Jameson would never have a baby together, or the notion that the decision was out of her hands. “I’m not sure what I want. There is so much going on in our lives right now—this is the last thing I should be thinking about.”

  Cassidy laughed. “That’s usually how it happens.”

  Candace finally joined in Cassidy’s laughter. “True.”

  “Give it a little time,” Cassidy advised. “You just said it; your cup runneth over—and not all in the best of ways. Most people have a thousand moving pieces to deal with. You have a billion. Get through the next few months. I’ll bet things will seem clearer then.”

  “I hope so.”

  Cassidy decided to shift gears. “How goes everything else?”

  “Other than the fact that I nearly killed Doug today? Not bad.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “You would think I’d be used to it by now.”

  “What’s that?” Cassidy asked.

  “Dealing with advisers and legislators is like dealing with my kids—not my grandkids or Cooper—The Three Stooges. Something happens when they hit puberty. They suddenly go deaf. Then, after they pass it; they develop selective hearing. I swear.”

  Cassidy nearly spit out her wine. “Are you trying to kill me?” She laughed.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I wonder if that’s what our parents think about us.”

  “Guaranteed,” Candace said. “Tell me again why I wanted this job?”

  “Because you can do it better than anyone else who was willing to try.”

  Candace massaged her eyes. Could she? She had to.

  “You can,” Cassidy said. “You will. What happened with Doug?”

  “He means well. They all mean well.” Candace chuckled. “He thinks we can solve the world’s problems in one legislative session.” She rolled her eyes. “They all do.”

  “They’re excited.”

  “Understatement.”

  Cassidy suddenly understood what had Candace in knots. Everyone around Candace was brimming with enthusiasm and excitement. They saw possibility everywhere. Someone had to temper their eagerness. That someone was Candace. On the public stage, Candace delivered optimistic, sometimes lofty speeches. Cassidy had learned that Cand
ace never imparted sentiment she didn’t believe. When the lights dimmed, and the stage cleared, Candace became the voice of reason. “In other words, you get to play Mom all day.”

  Candace laughed. She often felt as though she were playing everyone’s mother. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate their passion,” she told Cassidy. “I do. Passion without temperance can run the best policy off the tracks before it gets started. I know it will get better when I am in the role and have a cabinet in place. Right now, everything is in limbo.”

  “I know it is,” Cassidy said.

  Nothing in Candace’s life felt steady except Jameson. She was living between worlds. Everyone was forced to live in the present no matter how they might prefer the past or the future. Candace’s present lacked foundation. She had a temporary home, a temporary staff, her past seemed determined to niggle at her thoughts, and the future seemed to plague her emotions.

  “It’s easy to feel out of balance when nothing is settled,” Cassidy said.

  “It is.”

  “I know it probably feels like an eternity; it’s only ten more days.”

  Candace’s heart sped up. “Is that all?”

  “Something tells me we need more wine.”

  Candace winked. “What do you think?”

  “About?” Cassidy asked.

  “Do you think I’ll be the first president to write an Inauguration speech hung over?”

  Cassidy and Candace fell into a fit of laughter. Candace squeezed her friend’s hand. Cassidy’s company seemed the perfect prescription for what had been ailing her. Friendship was a balm for the soul.

  ***

  “Are they getting drunk in there?” Michelle asked Jameson.

  Jameson smiled. The sound of Candace’s laughter lifted her spirits. “I hope they are,” she said.

  “Why? Hoping she’ll need to repent later?” Michelle poked.

  “That would be a bonus.”

  “Gross, JD.”

  “Just because we own a Bible, doesn’t mean we’re nuns.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes. “You made my mother a nymphomaniac.”

  Jameson burst into laughter. If only.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  January 21st

  Jameson looked out the window of the SUV as it rolled through the streets of Washington DC. If it seemed surreal now, she could hardly imagine how she would react the next day. She’d needed to get away from the chaos at home. Tomorrow, Candace would become the forty-fifth president. Jameson would stand beside her wife as Candace laid her hand on the Bible that her close friend John Merrow had sworn his oath upon.

  Barricades already denied access to certain streets. Grandstands had been erected along the parade route. Jameson shook her head. Unreal.

  “Don?” Jameson called up to the Secret Service agent in charge of her detail.

  “Yes, Ms. Reid?”

  “Can we head over to the Capitol?”

  “You want to go there now?”

  “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “I’d like to make a few calls.”

  Jameson sighed with frustration. It wasn’t unusual for there to be threats on Candace. She hated that reality. She’d been dealing with the knowledge of threats since Candace announced her candidacy. There had been a few issues when Candace was governor, nothing close to what Candace faced as a presidential candidate. Jameson was positive that would seem like child’s play after tomorrow. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. A myriad of emotions ran through her: excitement, anxiety, pride, love, disbelief—hopefulness. She’d thought she was prepared for Candace’s new role. She was prepared to be supportive. She was prepared to walk any path she needed to as Candace’s wife. Jameson doubted that anyone was ready for their wife to become The President of the United States. She wondered if she would ever fully grasp that this was real. She was about to become First Lady. That thought made her laugh.

  “Are you all right?” Agent Don Reardon asked.

  “Just wondering if I am in some strange version of The Truman Show.”

  Reardon chuckled. He looked at the driver next to him. “You heard the boss, the Capitol it is.”

  Jameson closed her eyes again. She needed to see it all unfolding if she had any hope of believing tomorrow was real. She’d left Candace to rehearse her speech with Michelle. Most of the family had already arrived in DC. Candace’s brothers were due to arrive later that afternoon. Jonah, Laura, Melanie and Michelle and their children were staying at the townhouse. Pearl, Jameson’s parents, Marianne, Scott, Maddie and Spencer would make the move to Blair House with Candace and Jameson. Jameson had been surprised when Candace had suggested it. They both needed a degree of stability. It made sense. She hoped that the presence of family might ease her nervousness.

  Jameson’s eyes roamed over the approaching scene. She took a deep breath. The flags draped over the Capitol were impressive even at a distance. She smiled at a stand selling merchandise adorned with Candace’s face. “Can you pull over?”

  “Here?” Agent Reardon asked.

  “Yes.”

  Reardon instructed the driver to comply. He exited the car and opened Jameson’s door. The agent forced himself not to laugh at Jameson’s childlike expression. He accompanied her a few paces to the small cart that was decorated with T-shirts, buttons, hats, and Mardi Gras style beads in red, white, and blue.

  “Hi,” Jameson strolled up to the vendor.

  The young man’s jaw dropped.

  “I was wondering how much your T-shirts are.”

  The vendor tried to speak but nothing seemed to pass his lips.

  Jameson chuckled. She extended her hand. “I’m JD.”

  “You’re the president’s wife.”

  “Not yet. I mean, yes, Candace is my wife. She’s not the president yet.”

  “Wow. I…”

  “How much for the T-shirts?” Jameson asked again.

  “Take one,” he said.

  Jameson smiled. “I can’t do that. How much?”

  “They’re fifteen bucks.”

  “Cash only?”

  He nodded. Jameson reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her wallet. It was unusual for her to carry any cash. She’d gotten some cash the day before to give to Marianne and Scott. They were staying in DC for the rest of the week and planned to take the kids on a sightseeing jaunt after the Inaugural festivities. She pulled out three fifty-dollar bills. “If my math is right, that covers ten shirts.”

  The young man nodded. “Which ones?”

  Jameson pointed to an artistic representation of Candace smiling with the Inauguration date emblazoned beneath her likeness. “How about that one? Wait, do you have any for kids?”

  “Not really.”

  Jameson pondered the thought. “How much are the buttons?”

  “Five, but…”

  “Hold on,” Jameson said. She dug in her wallet again. “Here.” She handed him a twenty. “I’ll take four buttons too. The kids will like those better anyway.”

  The man nodded. He filled a bag with Jameson’s items and looked at her. He picked up a small bag of tiny pins. “Take them,” he said.

  “I can’t take them without paying you.”

  He shrugged. “I wish you would. I can make more tonight.”

  “You made them?”

  “Yeah; and designed them.”

  “Seriously?” Jameson asked.

  He nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rick.”

  Jameson smiled. “Our son-in-law’s name was Rick.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, is this a good gig?”

  “If you can get the permit; yeah. It helps pay my tuition.”

  “You’re a student?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jameson continued the conversation curiously. “What are you studying?”

  “Law at Georgetown.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Hey, you’re the one married to
the president.”

  “Not yet,” Jameson winked. “Don’t ask me how that happened.” She laughed. “I got lucky.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “For what?” Jameson wondered.

  “For buying and for talking.”

  “A lawyer who designs shirts and buttons. There’s a story there,” Jameson said.

  “I used to want to be an artist.”

  “Used to?”

  “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

  Jameson nodded. She was intrigued by the young man. “Are you going to be out here tomorrow?”

  “I hope so,” he said. “Sometimes they make us move when there’s a big event.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “I voted for her,” he said.

  Jameson grinned. “Me too.”

  He laughed. “I hope she likes the shirt.”

  “She will. Hey, you designed this; right? I mean, the picture. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “I painted it. Turned it into a graphic print.”

  “Do you have the original?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How much do you want for it?”

  “For my painting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely. I’ve been wondering what I could get Candace to mark the occasion. This would be perfect.”

  “Do you think she’d want it?”

  “She’ll love it. And the fact that a young man named Rick who’s studying law and voted for her painted it? Bonus points. So, how much?”

  “I don’t know, Two hundred maybe?”

  Jameson nodded. She looked at Agent Reardon. “Do you have anything to write with?”

  Rick grabbed a notebook and pen. “Here.”

  Jameson pushed it back. “Write down where I can send you a check.”

  He scribbled down an address.

  “This is where you live?” Jameson inquired.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, would it be okay if I sent someone over with the check tonight to pick up the painting?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll be home by five.”

  Jameson smiled at his enthusiasm. “Perfect. Thanks, Rick. You know, our son Jonah is a pretty talented artist too.”