Page 2 of Campaign Season (By Design #18)

Chapter

One

The White House

Tension always accompanied election season.

Candidates worried about the outcome, but it was often the people surrounding them who created the most anxiety.

Candace Reid understood this better than most. In the end, a candidate either connected with voters or didn’t.

A few contests might come down to razor-thin margins, but those were increasingly rare in a nation more polarized than ever—where ruling parties had perfected new ways to silence opposition voters.

She’d like to claim such tactics belonged solely to the other side, that Democrats never waded into the muck. But the truth was, no matter how hard anyone tried to keep a race clean, someone was always muddying the waters in their favor.

Now, with campaign season winding down, Candace felt more relief than triumph.

She still enjoyed meeting people—chatting with concerned parents at rallies, fielding questions from enthusiastic college students.

Those conversations reminded her why holding office mattered at all levels.

However, this year, the work left her more drained than she could ever recall.

It wasn’t the pressure of governing a nation that wore on her most; it was the distance from home.

She doubted there would be many more years when Cooper, their nine-year-old, would be excited about Halloween.

She hated missing it. For weeks, she’d been locked in a polite but stubborn battle with the Secret Service to let him trick-or-treat with the Toles kids in Arlington.

Creating a sense of “normal” was never easy at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Cooper handled it with grace, but Candace could sense his disappointment.

He might be proud his mom was the president, but that pride didn’t erase his need to just be a kid—running through the neighborhood in a costume, pillowcase in hand, laughing with his friends.

Candace removed her glasses with a sigh and massaged her temples. Coffee or whiskey? Maybe both. “I don’t know if I need a cup of coffee or a jug of whiskey,” she muttered.

“Thinking of instituting a nine a.m. happy hour?” Cassidy Toles asked as she stepped into the office.

Candace looked up and groaned. “If I didn’t think a glass of wine would put me to sleep, I would.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No.” Candace gestured toward the door, and Cassidy closed it.

“Candace, maybe you should think about foregoing a few events.”

“It isn’t the pace or the distraction that has me…” She hesitated. “Well, exhausted.”

“Go on.”

“I’m worried about Cooper.”

“Cooper? Why? Did something happen?”

“He has his heart set on trick-or-treating with Mackenzie. I don’t see me winning this battle with the Secret Service.”

Cassidy nodded. “So? We’ll change the plan.”

“Cass, you can’t change Mackenzie’s?—”

“Mackenzie told Alex she’s too old for trick-or-treating.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last night. Apparently, now that she’s twelve, she needs to attend a party. Costumes are acceptable, no bobbing for apples or cheesy games. Her words.”

Candace chuckled.

“Alex will take the twins and Fallon around the neighborhood. Honestly, they don’t seem as excited this year,” Cassidy said.

“The move?” Candace asked.

“That’s part of it. A bigger part is Mackenzie… and Claire. As much as she likes to protest, Claire delights in taking the kids anywhere. Costumes are a bonus.”

Candace smiled. “Do you think you could coax her and Eleana to come down for the weekend?”

“I don’t think it would require much coaxing.”

“I know Cooper would love to see Claire. If I had to guess, so would Jameson.”

“Why don’t we plan something at our house?” Cassidy suggested. “Instead of holding a party in?—”

“The mouse house?” Candace cracked.

“JD is still calling this place her hamster wheel, huh?”

“Mm. Mouse house, hamster wheel… I keep wondering when to expect more pets.”

“I’m not sure a mouse is the best idea with Jinx running the place,” Cassidy teased.

Candace chuckled. That cat might actually be running the White House.

Jameson had started bringing him to her office, and Jinx had made himself at home under Candace’s desk more than once.

Truth be told, she was grateful for those moments—it was the closest thing to normal in an otherwise surreal existence. She sighed.

“Uh-oh,” Cassidy said.

Candace shook her head. “There are things about living here that I love, Cass. But it isn’t normal. Not really. Jameson’s right—it’s like a giant cage with people constantly running in circles. Lately, I think I’m the one in the wheel.”

“I know,” Cassidy replied. “How’s Jonathan?”

A deep sigh escaped Candace’s chest. Freedom of movement was as important as freedom of expression in a democracy.

Ironically, the leader of the “free” world didn’t enjoy either without limits.

Every word was weighed, every trip a logistical ordeal.

She’d been crisscrossing the country to support congressional and gubernatorial candidates and hadn’t been home to New York or to visit Marianne in a month.

“Candace,” Cassidy began gently, “you need to make a trip back to New York.”

“I know. I’m not sure how to make that happen right now.”

“Have you talked to Jonathan recently?”

“I talk to him daily now.” Candace closed her eyes. “He’s determined to hang on through the holidays. The closer it gets, the more determined he becomes.”

“But?”

“He tells me he isn’t in pain.”

“But you don’t believe him,” Cassidy said softly.

“I know him. Better than even our kids realize. He’s exhausted, Cass. The last thing he wants is sadness hanging over the holidays. The kids try to be supportive. But no matter how old we get, our parents are still?—”

“I get it,” Cassidy said. “I think about it, too—what I’ll do when something happens to my parents or Helen. How will the kids handle it? How will Claire… and Alex? They act tough, but they’re both so sensitive underneath. There’s no way to prepare.”

Candace nodded.

“You need to make the trip,” Cassidy continued. “You can’t focus on anything or anyone fully when this is weighing on you. Visit Marianne, or if Jonathan’s up for it, have everyone come to the house in Schoharie. Early holiday celebration.”

“He’ll balk.”

“Well, I don’t know Jonathan well, but something tells me he’ll do what the president tells him to.”

Candace chuckled.

Cassidy’s tone softened. “Take the pressure off everyone—yourself most of all. Besides, after the election, things will calm for a few beats. Good time to regroup.”

“Thanks, Cass.”

“I’ll look for the bonus in my next check. Or a wineglass.”

Candace laughed. “That’s not why you came in here.”

“I saw Shell when I got here.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She’s thinking ahead.”

“Mm.”

“Past Halloween,” Cassidy offered.

“Mm-hm. Just tell me what my daughter is thinking ahead about… or is it to?”

“JD’s podcast interview has gained a lot of interest.”

“You mean it’s generated a lot of chatter.”

“That too,” Cassidy said.

“And?”

“Shell thinks we should expand that method of communication.”

Candace stared.

“Candace?”

“Why hasn’t Shell come to me with this idea?”

“I think she intends to.”

“And you’re here to soften the ground for her?” Candace asked.

“Nope. I’m here to soften the ground for you.”

Candace held Cassidy’s stare for a beat—then laughed loud and long.

The door creaked open, and Jameson peered around it. “Did I miss the invitation?”

Candace rolled her eyes. “Get in here, you lunatic.”

Jameson stepped into the office and closed the door. “Should I ask?”

“It seems Shell was impressed with your podcast appearance,” Candace said.

Jameson stopped mid-step. “Don’t tell me she wants me to do another one?”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s you Shell has her sights on this time,” Cassidy replied.

“Shell wants Candace to appear on the Late Great America podcast?” Jameson asked.

“I don’t know,” Cassidy said. “But your conversation with Jay Ivey is still topping the charts.”

Jameson groaned.

“It might not be a bad idea,” Candace said.

Jameson arched an eyebrow. “Candace, have you and Cassidy been drinking already?”

“Stop,” Candace said, giggling. “Shell’s not wrong.”

“Mm.” Jameson’s tone was pure skepticism.

Jameson had never been fond of giving interviews.

It wasn’t that she was secretive; she simply valued her privacy, especially when it came to her family.

For more than a decade, she had been married to a woman whose life unfolded under the glaring political spotlight.

This exposure did not alter Jameson’s disinterest in politics as a sport.

Her reluctance to discuss political issues often surprised others, who assumed that her aversion to party politics and what she called the “noise media” meant she didn’t care about important issues.

In reality, Jameson cared deeply. What she couldn't tolerate was how politicians and the media exploited genuine struggles for their gain. While she readily challenged Candace in private on things that mattered to her, she refrained from commenting on governance itself. Their discussions remained focused on Candace’s concerns, pending legislation, and campaign trail challenges.

When their opinions diverged on a policy Candace had planned, Jameson would often say, “I trust your judgment.” It wasn’t just a platitude; she meant it.

Despite all their years together, Candace occasionally wondered if Jameson ever felt unable to fully express her opinions.

She decided a change of subject was in order… for now.

“Cass suggested we have a Halloween party for the kids at her house this year,” Candace said.

“Cass, you don’t need to change plans for Cooper,” Jameson said. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure you can make something work,” Cassidy replied. “But Kenzie doesn’t want to trick-or-treat this year. I think she’d prefer to have a few friends over at the house, and I know she’ll want Cooper to be there.”

Jameson nodded but said nothing.