by Harper Bliss
“Next you’ll be telling me you want to have a baby before it’s too late.”
“I’m serious.” Solange locked her gaze on Aurore’s. “If she loses, I’m done.”
“What will you do?”
“Nothing for a good long while. Sleep in. Throw my phone in the Seine. Be with you without limits on my time. Do what I want, for once.”
“You’re reeling from the first round. But we both know Dominique will recuperate most of the far-right voters. Rivière’s a formidable candidate, no doubt, but so is Dominique.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Solange gazed deep into Aurore’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
As they kissed, Solange knew what Aurore had sacrificed to be with her—a seat at Rivière’s campaign table. Thank goodness she had. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be sharing this kiss right now.
“Do you still want to quit politics?” Aurore asked after she switched off the alarm clock. The first item of news had, once again, been Rivière’s one percent lead over Dominique in the first round of the election. Solange couldn’t wait for the next news cycle to begin.
“I said I’d quit if Dominique loses, which you assured me she wouldn’t.” It was days like these that Solange would actually want to quit politics for real. Today would be full of tension. A tension that she, as campaign manager, had the responsibility to convert into hope for the rest of the team.
“I was just saying that to get you into bed with me.” Aurore followed up her statement with a belly laugh.
Solange had known her long enough by now to know that she was joking—and that their sense of humour didn’t always align. Because, to Solange, this was no joking matter.
Solange turned onto her back. “This is crunch time. These two weeks, this is where it might get dirty.” She grabbed Aurore’s hand. “Please assure me again that Rivière’s not one to play dirty.”
“I can’t speak for Anne.” Aurore squeezed her hand. “But I really wouldn’t think so.” She paused. “What about Dominique?”
“Never.” Solange turned on her side. “But… if she were. Are there any nasty secrets to be dug up on Rivière?”
Aurore let out a belly laugh again. “You’re asking me? Surely by now your team have dug up anything on Rivière that they possibly could have.”
“Some things are buried so deep… or only a few people know about them.” Solange wasn’t really fishing for dirt. Not only because even if she did know anything, Aurore would never tell Solange, but also because she prided herself on a clean campaign. It was what the country needed. Mudslinging was something for the old guard of candidates—the old male crocodiles that had dominated France’s politics for so long. Female candidates couldn’t stoop so low, lest women vying for the highest office be caricatured as hysterical participants in a cat fight.
“There’s nothing. Rivière’s solid,” Aurore said.
“For a Socialist.” Solange started pushing herself out of bed. “You can never, ever repeat what I’m about to say to anyone.” She slung her legs out of bed, then looked backwards at Aurore. “If Dominique does lose, I think Rivière won’t do so bad a job—for a Socialist.”
Aurore feigned utter surprise.
“Now I have to get to work to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Dominique
“Did you get some sleep?” Steph asked, pulling her eye mask from her face.
“Not really.” Dominique had almost resorted to taking a sleeping pill in the middle of the night, but she knew it would leave her too drowsy in the morning to deal with the many matters at hand. Not that anyone still expected her to run the country. Not when her campaign was in such dire straits. “I was awake most of the night cursing my mother for talking me into running again.”
“That’s not like you.” Steph slung an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “To blame someone else for your problems. Let alone the lovely Eléonore Laroche.”
“I know I can’t blame anyone but myself.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re the best president this country has had in decades,” Steph whispered in her ear. “You’re not to blame for any of it.”
“Forgive me for having a small but significant crisis of confidence regardless.” Dominique started wiggling her way out of Steph’s embrace.
“You beat the Socialists before. You’ll do it again.” Steph sat up.
“So everyone keeps saying, but Rivière’s not Goffin. People know that.”
“But you are still you.” Steph put a hand in the small of Dominique’s back. “I’ve been thinking. If it would help you in any way to… set a date, I’d be okay with that.”
“Set a date?”
“For our wedding,” Steph said.
“Oh, babe.” Dominique shook her head. “Even if Rivière had scored ten percent more than me last Sunday, I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“I know you’d never ask it of me, that’s why I’m offering.” Steph sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
“While I appreciate your kindness, it’s out of the question. I have to win this on my own merit, otherwise it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Things have changed in the past five years,” Steph said. “Politics has gotten so much rougher and at the same time so much more emotional. Nothing’s out of bounds anymore.”
“That might be so, but I have to be above that. I’m the president.” Dominique wished that if she could only repeat that she was president enough times, it would be enough to get her re-elected.
“Do you think that if we just keep on going the way we’ve been going, it will be enough?” Steph asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your fiancée, but I’m also one of your PR advisors, which puts me in a rather unique position.”
“Stop trying to convince me to get married, Steph.”
“We’re getting married, anyway. What’s wrong with sending such a positive message of hope and love?”
“Because the press would see right through it. I’m behind in the polls so I announce my wedding date, out of the blue?”
“The press won’t make the difference on the day, ordinary people will. Imagine how many lefties you could sway by marrying me?”
“You’re really serious about this.” If Steph was so adamant, Dominique had to at least consider it.
“Deadly.” She sat up. “I don’t want to diminish the value of our nuptials. But we’ve been engaged for years. At this point, getting married would really just be a matter of obtaining a piece of paper. We’re as good as married already, minus all the pomp and circumstance of a wedding day. I’m just telling you that, to me, this can be used for political gain. Especially because I know it will work.”
Dominique’s phone started ringing. She glanced at the lit up screen but didn’t pick up.
“I’ll think about it, but…”
Her phone rang again. She saw Solange’s name on the screen again, and dismissed the call.
“I know it doesn’t sit right with you… yet,” Steph said. “But consider it.” She narrowed her eyes. “If it works, it would make for a very clean and wholesome remainder of the campaign. If it doesn’t work… we can take a year-long honeymoon.”
It was midday, and Dominique’s brain was about to burst out of her skull, what with all the different polling percentages her advisors had pummelled her with. Even Steph, who really wasn’t that much of a numbers person, had sent her an email with a spreadsheet attached, laying out what the prospect of a presidential marriage could mean for the next voting round.
This was her life now and it would be for the next ten days. Rivière ending the first-round vote with a one percent lead had been a massive blow. Everyone knew it, felt it, but it couldn’t be said out loud. Not anymore.
Solange urged her to look forward. Her father assured her that it was a mere anomaly that would be corrected in the final round. And now Steph had planted the idea in her head to announce
their wedding date.
The truth was that facing the very real prospect of losing the election had shaken Dominique to the core. She wasn’t the graceful loser type. She knew she owed her father for, throughout her life, only ever putting her in a race she had a good chance of winning. What if, last time, she hadn’t beaten Goffin because the idea of her as president was irresistible to the majority of the voters, but because the country was so utterly sick of Goffin’s politics? What if it had all been one massive fluke?
“No,” she told herself—out loud. She was Xavier Laroche’s daughter. She was the MLR poster child but, at the same time, progressive enough to woo more centrist voters. While Goffin’s presidency had been one of the most disastrous the country had ever endured, that didn’t diminish her own significance—her style, her choices, and the way she had run the country these past five years.
All the hard choices she’d had to make, and the constant battle for her time, had been worth it. She’d do it again in a heartbeat, but the simple truth was that a second term was not a given. Rivière was too formidable an opponent. Dominique had met her match.
She called Solange into her office. A cynical workaholic like her chief of staff and campaign leader would have a strong opinion on Steph’s suggestion.
“I just got some new numbers,” Solange said as soon as she’d walked in.
“No more numbers,” Dominique said. “Close the door, please.”
Solange did as she was told and held the papers she’d been carrying behind her back.
“What’s your spontaneous reaction to the following?” Dominique studied Solange’s face. “What if Steph and I announced our wedding date?”
The thing with Solange was that she could hide almost any emotion. Her face always remained a mask of professionalism.
“Don’t think about it too long,” Dominique urged. “Just tell me what your gut reaction is.”
“I’m ambivalent about it.”
Dominique sighed. “Of course you are.”
“Steph being your partner is an asset, but announcing your wedding date would seem a bit too desperate at this time. The press would eat you alive.”
“Some press, perhaps.” Dominique crashed down into her chair. “It wouldn’t have to be an official announcement. It could be something that just… got out.”
“A leak.” Solange started nodding. “With evidence that the date had actually been set a long time ago, but you hadn’t announced it because of the election.” She fixed her gaze on Dominique. “That just might work.”
Steph
“I remember how good that coming-out video was for the previous election results,” Juliette said. “Do you really think we can pull the same stunt twice?”
“We won’t know until we try, Jules,” Steph said.
“Do you want to ask around? See what people here think about the idea.”
Steph shrugged. “The people who work here are not a very representative sample of the voters we need to sway.”
Juliette nodded. “This is time-sensitive. If we want to do this, we need to do it this week. Turn this negative narrative around once and for all.”
“I know.” A knock on the door interrupted Steph’s train of thought.
“Excuse the disturbance,” Leah said, sounding very much as though she wasn’t sorry at all. She bounced straight into Juliette’s office, holding a sheet of paper in her hand. “Zoya’s out all day and I need a second opinion on the Barnier press release.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Juliette said.
Again, Steph noticed how Juliette’s muscles tensed when she was faced with Leah. She’d always seen her as Claire’s replacement and, for that reason, harboured some resentment towards Barbier & Cyr’s latest recruit.
Juliette made a few notes on the release and handed it back to Leah.
“Actually,” Steph said. “Sit with us for a minute, Leah.” When Leah had come for the job interview, Steph had thought it a done deal before she’d asked the woman a single question.
Leah had been working for Johnson PR for years and she was not only highly experienced but she had somewhat of a reputation in PR circles for being ‘ruthless and effective’. Steph’s biggest concerns when deciding whether to hire her were Leah’s motives—not her skills or aptitude for the position.
Over the past months, Leah had proven herself a very valuable asset to the company. Someone who, no matter Claire’s future at Barbier & Cyr, they’d want to keep on as long as they could.
“I won’t ask who you voted for last Sunday,” Steph said, giving a small smile.
“I voted for Dominique Laroche, of course.” Leah mirrored Steph’s smile, then turned it up a notch. “Isn’t it mandatory when you work here?”
“If only.” Steph eyed her colleague. “Can I ask for your candid opinion on something?”
Steph explained her hunch again. It wasn’t a big masterplan she’d kept in the back of her pocket for when the situation required it. It had truly just been a fleeting thought that had passed through her mind when she’d seen Dominique’s defeated face. She’d wanted to help and she knew that the best way to help Dominique was to put herself in play.
“Do it,” Leah said. “No doubt. Go for it.” She winked at Steph. “Also, congratulations.”
Steph glanced at Juliette. “Will you ask Nadia what she thinks?”
Juliette nodded.
“I’m not going to lie.” Steph examined Juliette’s face. “I do wish we could get Claire’s opinion on this.”
“Have you seen her recently?” Juliette asked.
Leah had left, no doubt sensing that her input wouldn’t be required for the conversation that was about to ensue.
Steph shook her head. “I’ve been a bit busy.”
“I realise that, but in the past, you’ve always been a sort of go-between.”
“Things are a little different this time around. She could have seriously hurt Dominique’s campaign.”
“I know.” Juliette stared out of the window. “That was her spot right there. The number of times she has leaned against that windowsill.”
“You miss her.”
“Do you?” Juliette said quickly.
“Of course. Claire was such a big part of our lives. All this time has gone by, yet every time I walk through the doors of this building, I expect to see her. It still feels… unnatural that she’s not here.”
“I feel the same way. And I can’t help but wonder whether Dominique would be so behind if Claire had been working on her campaign.”
“Come on, Jules. You’re giving her a bit too much power now.”
“I’m not claiming she would have thought of a spectacular idea to give Dominique the edge.” She paused. “It’s just that, when we work together… we can accomplish more. It’s always been that way. It’s like a part of this firm’s special formula’s missing when she’s not here.” Juliette looked like she was about to crack.
“We can talk about her coming back if you want.”
“Later.” Juliette squared her shoulders. “Let’s get Dominique elected first.” She tilted her head. “Leah was right to congratulate you.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Come here.”
Steph shot up and walked towards Juliette, who very much looked like she needed that hug.
“Tell me,” Juliette whispered in her ear when they embraced. “Will I be addressing you as Stéphanie Laroche soon?”
“Let’s not push it.” They broke from their hug. “Let’s not forget that only a few years ago, I wasn’t even the marrying kind.”
“That’s why you keep amazing me,” Juliette said. “You keep reminding me that people can and do change all the time.”
“Do you think Claire has changed?”
“She was certainly a different person from the Claire I’ve known all my life when she pulled that stunt with Aurore.”
“Maybe we’ve all changed, Jules.”
“Maybe.” Juliette nodded.
Steph couldn’t help but notice the melancholy look in her eyes.
First, we get Dominique elected, Steph thought. Then we’ll get Claire back.
As she exited Juliette’s office, Steph considered that those statements might sound simple enough in her head, but neither would be easy to accomplish.
Margot
Margot kept a keen eye on Adèle while Inez made them a cup of coffee. It was odd that she was sitting in Inez’ living room, waiting for Claire. After all that had happened between them. But Claire had replaced the friendships she’d lost with a new friendship with Inez. A fact that Margot wasn’t unhappy about in the least. From the minute she’d seen Inez again at the hospital, she’d known that she wanted her to be part of her life. It was inevitable anyway if Inez started working at Saint-Vincent’s again. In that respect, Claire being in dire need of a new friend had helped.
Adèle tried to pull herself up on the coffee table, but she kept falling down.
“Keep at it,” Margot whispered. “You’ll get there.”
When she spent time with Adèle, she tried to imagine herself at that age. When everything had fallen apart for Claire, Margot had shoved her own goals aside to be there for her wife—and had nixed the plan of finding her birth parents. As far as she was concerned, her parents were no longer with her—and she only had one pair.
“I briefly considered trying to find my birth parents,” she said after Inez had poured the coffee. “It hurt so much when my parents died. I just wanted to do something to stop that pain.”
“But you didn’t go through with it?” Inez pulled Adèle onto her lap.
Margot shook her head. “I never got the chance to get serious about it.”
“Do you regret that?” Inez kissed Adèle on the cheek.
“No,” Margot said truthfully. “If Claire’s leave of absence has taught me anything, it’s that my life is here. If we do go to Korea, it won’t be to find my birth parents, but more to… I don’t know. Get in touch with my roots.” Claire had had a long time off from work so it wasn’t her diary keeping them from planning the trip. In fact, Claire had suggested more than once that they go somewhere, but Margot had always been too busy. “But this career of ours tends to get in the way of many a plan.”
