Pursuit of Happiness

by Carsen Taite

  “Well, here’s another problem. They sent you this information about Meredith before she even entered the race. Seems like if their goal was to smear her campaign, they didn’t do a good job of timing.”

  “Or did they? I follow the news even though I’m not dating the senator, and there was plenty of talk about Meredith getting into the race in the weeks before Armstrong’s campaign went up in smoke. Maybe someone offered these people more money to release this information in the hope it would keep her from running at all. In any event, the revelations are doing damage now, so it was a win for whoever was behind this either way.”

  Stevie nodded. “Good point. I guess it doesn’t really matter. If it’s true the Mitchells hired these losers to do their bidding, then they should’ve been prepared for them to sell out to a higher bidder.”

  “But here’s the thing. I’m not absolutely convinced the revelations are true.” He pointed to another section of code that looked like gobbledygook. “I don’t have the tools I need on this computer to properly analyze this, but someone should verify that these documents are authentic, because from what I can see, it looks like there are issues with the metadata. It’s possible whoever the prosecutor used to do the analysis was in too big a hurry and didn’t bother looking deeper when they spotted the info about the possible connection to the Mitchell Foundation.”

  “Wait a minute,” Stevie said. “What do you mean, ‘possible connection’?”

  “I’m just saying this could fall under the category of fake news, and it’s possible someone cooked this up to keep Mitchell out of the race or damage her chances. Like you said, if these hackers were hired by the Mitchells, why would they want to damage her chances unless someone came along willing to bid more money for their services to get a different result?” He shrugged. “Maybe all of it is a lie and the Mitchells didn’t hire the hackers to begin with.”

  Fake news. Stevie hated the term, but she couldn’t deny the jolt of excitement she got at the idea the Mitchells might not have done anything wrong, leaving Meredith in the clear. She’d certainly acted like an innocent person. Ever since someone had leaked the news just days after her initial meeting with Emily at Hannah’s house, Meredith had fully cooperated with authorities, giving them full access to her personal and official email accounts, and publicly encouraging her family to do the same with the Foundation’s records. Stevie couldn’t help but notice that Jen seemed to have receded into a background role in Meredith’s campaign. More than a few times since Super Tuesday II, she’d considered reaching out to Meredith to ask how she was doing, but this case and the residual pain of the rift between them kept her from reaching for the phone.

  Barkley’s voice broke through her thoughts. “How is this going to affect my plea deal?”

  Legitimate question. This investigation had already netted big headlines, and there were plenty of people who expected Emily to deliver a big conviction of a high profile family, but the truth was the truth, and Barkley had done what was expected of him, no matter how the cards fell. “You let me worry about that. We have a deal and I’ll make sure the government keeps their end of the bargain.” If the Mitchells hadn’t done anything wrong, someone had tried to set them up, and it was up to her to convince Emily to point her resources in a different direction. She told herself she wasn’t doing it for Meredith’s sake, but she couldn’t help but feel relieved to be able to help her, even if Meredith could never know.

  * * *

  Day Four of the Democratic National Convention

  Meredith sat across from Jed Lankin in one of the conference rooms at the convention center, neither one of them saying a word. They were each flanked by their campaign managers, and Meredith was grateful for Gordon’s calming presence, because she wanted to launch across the table and choke Lankin for all the hateful things he’d let his campaign say about her over the past few weeks.

  In a couple of hours, the delegates were set to begin their third round of voting, and there was no indication the breakdown would be any more decisive than the rounds before. The White House had summoned them to this meeting, hoping for some kind of agreement to bring the party together, and they were waiting for someone from President Garrett’s office to show up. When Julia Scott, the president’s chief of staff, walked through the door, Meredith sighed with relief and shot a look at Gordon who raised his eyebrows.

  Julia didn’t waste any time. “Are we having fun yet? Because I’m here to tell you this is becoming a spectacle. Neither one of you are gaining anything by continuing to fight it out on national TV. Whoever walks out of this convention with the nomination is going to have to immediately start doing battle against Bosley,” she said, referring to the Republican nominee, “and the less wounded you are, the better you’ll be able to fight.” She paused and looked back and forth between them. “Have you discussed merging your campaigns?”

  The question was a nonstarter for Meredith. She and Lankin had way too many ideological differences for her to consider asking Lankin to be her running mate, and she’d rather drop out entirely than run as his VP.

  “I’m open to the idea of having Ms. Mitchell on the ticket, but there would have to be certain concessions,” Lankin said.

  Meredith’s temper flared. “Like walk ten steps behind you and never mention that I’m a lesbian?” She turned to Julia. “I know you came here to get us to work something out, but unless it involves Jed dropping out, then it’s not going to happen.” She pointed to the door. “This vote belongs to the delegates, and it’s not up to us to take it out of their hands. Let them keep voting. Eventually, the tide will turn one way or another, but then we can all be sure that the process stayed democratic.”

  “If you think it’s going to turn your way, you’re wrong,” Lankin spit out the words, no longer even trying to appear congenial. “Any day now there’s going to be an indictment against your family’s so-called nonprofit, and if you wind up getting the nomination before that happens, then we’re all doomed. You should do us all a favor and pull out now.”

  Meredith seethed and started to fire off an icy retort, but Julia beat her too it.

  “Actually, I have some news on that front. The attorney general just spoke with the prosecutor on the case, and it appears there have been some developments in the last couple of days. They’ve suspended their grand jury hearing and are now focusing their resources on other suspects.”

  Lankin’s jaw dropped, and he engaged in a whispered conversation with his campaign manager. Meredith watched them for a second, and then stood. “It looks like we’re headed for another round of voting. I, for one, am really looking forward to the outcome.”

  During primetime that evening, Meredith stood in the wings with Julia, watching the results of the latest round of voting being broadcast on the JumboTron hanging high above. Earlier, the evening news had run with the story that the federal prosecution against the Mitchell Foundation had been dropped, and the good news was reflected in the climbing delegate counts in her column. Gordon was in the press room, spinning talking points that would form the headlines for all the major news outlets if, as was expected, there was a Mitchell landslide tonight.

  Julia leaned over and said, “Addison wishes she could be here with you for this.”

  “Tell her I said thanks, but I totally get it. Not good form for a supreme court justice to be picking sides.”

  “I think you know whose side she’s on.”

  “I’m just grateful to still be in this race at all.” Meredith watched the chair of the Texas delegation wave a Stetson in the air, and then cast all their votes in the Mitchell column. “Who do you think tried to smear me?”

  “I don’t know, but they’re looking in several directions, including Bosley’s campaign. He never wanted to come up against you. Hopefully, he wasn’t that stupid, but if it wasn’t him, then it might have been one of the PACs that supports him.” She gave Meredith a knowing smile. “The AG’s office is on this now. I’m confident they�
��ll figure out who was responsible.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for being here tonight.”

  “Just supporting the future of our party.”

  “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

  “True. Addison made me promise you wouldn’t be without a friend when the results came in, good or bad, and she figured since I’ve been through this with other future presidents, I was the next best thing to her being here instead.”

  Meredith didn’t have words to express her gratitude, so she squeezed Julia’s hand. There was a sea of people around tonight, but like every race over the past six months, they would all be celebrating the victory for her party, and not her personal accomplishment. She hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight. She’d dreaded it so bad, she’d almost texted Stevie several times, hoping against hope that enough time had passed for Stevie to forgive her and join her for this special night. But she’d stopped before sending any message. There was more to it now. She’d not only hurt Stevie, but there was the legal case too, and she knew Stevie well enough to know she wouldn’t compromise her client with a conflict.

  Like she could read her mind, Julia said, “You know, it was Stevie Palmer’s client who unearthed the truth. Guy could’ve kept his mouth shut and let them indict you, but he dug a little deeper. I’ve got to think she may have been partly responsible for that.”

  Julia’s words rang true, but Meredith wasn’t sure of the implication. Stevie wouldn’t have acted on her behalf if it meant a risk to her client, but perhaps the digging deeper was partly about her?

  It didn’t matter. It was nice to think Stevie cared enough to try to help her, but she would be foolish to make anything more out of Stevie’s actions than that. She’d blown her chance, and all she could do was try to make something good come out of the mistake by serving her country as best she could.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Election Day

  Hannah followed Stevie into her office. Where’s your sticker?”

  “Sticker?”

  “You know, your ‘I voted’ sticker? I thought you were going to go by your polling place on the way into work.”

  Stevie forced a smile. She should be deliriously happy, like any other liberal in the country that the Democratic candidate had a solid lead in the polls, but she’d woken up today with a deep sense of melancholy. She was pretty sure it had something to do with seeing Meredith everywhere around her, but without any ability to make a connection. Pressing the button next to Meredith’s name was the closest she could hope to get. She sat down behind her desk. “Trust me, I voted, but there was a line to get a sticker and I’ve got a lot to do today.”

  Hannah sat across from her and crossed her arms. “Right.”

  “What?”

  “You seem a little down lately. We miss having you at the house. You should come over sometime.”

  Stevie nodded, but she didn’t have any intention of inflicting her bad mood on her friends, so she kept her response vague. “Sure, let’s plan something.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Dave’s boss is a big Democrat donor, but he had to travel out of the country this week, so he gave us his tickets to the watch party at the Ritz. We can celebrate together.”

  “Yeah, no. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Tonight? The entire world’s going to be watching the results of the election. It’s history. No way are you going to work right through it. Besides this is the kind of experience you should share with your friends. There’ll be lots of rich and famous people there, and did I mention these important two words? Open bar.” Hannah slowly nodded her head. “Say yes.”

  Stevie didn’t want to go. Not because she had work to do, but because everything about today felt off somehow. Like she’d had an opportunity to be part of history and she’d let it pass her by. All the reasons she’d broken up with Meredith had been valid at the time, but in hindsight, she wished she’d tried harder to get past her reservations. Meredith had been the one with the future of the Democratic Party on her back, not to mention the pressure to make history, but she’d been willing to try to make it work. Increasingly over the past few months, Stevie wished she’d given their relationship another chance.

  But the window had closed on rekindling anything with Meredith. She’d seen Meredith on the news this morning, smiling for the cameras and casting her ballot in Manhattan. No doubt she was spending the day trying to relax while waiting for the polls to close, and likely failing miserably. Did she have her family with her or had she chosen to spend the day alone? None of these things were any of Stevie’s business, but she was suddenly desperate to know the details of Meredith’s life. She had to figure out a way to shake her malaise and move on with her life. Maybe the best way to do that was to try to get some closure. If she couldn’t see Meredith in person, at least she could be on hand to witness her victory with a crowd of like-mind well-wishers. Before she could change her mind, she blurted out what Hannah wanted to hear. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  * * *

  Meredith stepped into the back of the limo with Gordon close behind her, muttering about the time. “Quit griping at me. We’re doing this,” she told him. “One hour tops and then you can pull me out of the room and get me on a plane to New York.”

  That morning, she’d rolled out of her bed in Manhattan after a fitful night full of memories of the last time she’d spent the night there with Stevie by her side. She’d dutifully dressed in a navy blue suit with a flag lapel pin and walked to her polling place, flanked by her Secret Service detail. She cast her vote, smiled for the cameras, and returned home, where there was nothing left to do but wait. She’d called Gordon, who was handling last-minute details at her election office in DC, no less than a dozen times with suggestions and rumination about the campaign before it struck her that her restlessness wasn’t only because of the impending results, but a factor of spending the day in her apartment where memories of the night she and Stevie had made love greeted her at every turn.

  The only solution she could think of to stave off her melancholy was the tried and true solution of throwing herself into her work. Without giving Gordon any advanced notice, she’d notified her Secret Service detail that she’d be returning to the Capitol for the day, and she surprised the campaign team when she’d strolled into the DC office, asking for something to do. She made some phone calls, preemptively thanking many of her large donors, and she was between calls when one of the interns asked if she was going back to New York for the results or if she was going to join the local Democratic watch party. At first, she’d laughed off the naive question. Of course she’d be going back to her home state in keeping with tradition, but then she cornered Gordon and told him she planned to do both. He’d called the idea crazy at first, but she’d finally managed to persuade him to let her make a quick stop at the Ritz on her way back to Manhattan.

  The convoy of cars pulled up to the service entrance at the hotel, and she tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for the agents in front to give the all clear. She sorely missed the days it was just her and Erica driving around town, no advance planning required.

  The ballroom was already filling up despite the fact the polls on the East Coast wouldn’t close for another hour. The presence of the Secret Service detail was creating a buzz in the room, and when Meredith waded into the crowd, everyone burst into applause and cheers. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but any idea she’d simply shake a few hands and wander out vanished as the throng of high-dollar supporters started acting like high school students, snapping selfies with abandon. She smiled and posed and soaked up the good will, relieved to feel a kinship with these people who supported her with unabashed enthusiasm, but it wasn’t until she looked across the room and locked eyes with the last person she’d expected to see at a Mitchell for President event that she felt truly connected to anyone in the room.

  Gordon whispered something in her ear, but she didn’t register his words. Her focus was entir
ely on Stevie, dressed in the vintage Dior suit she’d worn to Addison and Julia’s wedding. Stevie raised the glass of champagne in her hand, a distant toast and a truce of sorts, and all the regret Meredith had felt earlier that day came rushing back.

  “We better start making our way to the car,” Gordon said. “It’s going to be hard getting you out of here.”

  “I need a minute.” She started to walk toward Stevie, but Gordon followed her gaze and pulled her back.

  “Don’t.”

  “Just a minute. I promise.”

  “Remember how angry you were when the press mobbed her before? It’ll be ten times that if you make a beeline over there. Go to the car and I’ll see if I can get her to meet you there, but promise me, you’ll make it quick.”

  He was right. Her selfish desire to find some closure wasn’t a good reason to put Stevie’s privacy in jeopardy. She’d do as he asked and wait in the car, hoping he could convince Stevie to talk to her, and hoping she could figure out what to say.

  * * *

  Stevie recognized the man staring her way as Meredith’s campaign manager, and she looked over her shoulder as he approached, certain it couldn’t be her he was coming to see. Meanwhile, Meredith had vanished into the exuberant crowd, and the room was buzzing with excitement that the top of the ticket candidate had stopped by to thank her key supporters.

  “Ms. Palmer,” the man said when he drew close. “I’m Gordon Hewitt, Ms. Mitchell’s campaign manager. I wonder if I might have a word with you.” He looked around. “Privately.”

  Stevie partly wished she’d joined Hannah and Dave at the bar, but her interest was piqued as to what Gordon could want with her. “Yes, but only for a moment. I’m here with friends.”

  He ushered her out a side door and walked down a long hallway dodging waiters with trays headed into the ballroom. She started to ask him where they were going, but he placed a finger over his lips and kept walking. Curiosity propelled her forward.