Page 21 of Campaign Season (By Design #18)

“Jonathan didn’t want a funeral. He was very clear—no wake, no mourners. The kids can choose a private family service if they want, but he preferred we do something fun together.”

Pearl smiled faintly. “He mellowed with age.”

“It happens,” Candace said with a little shrug.

“Do you plan to stay here?”

“I do. Marianne and I talked before she left. We may skip gifts, but tomorrow we’ll have a big dinner and put up the Christmas tree as planned.

Jameson and I will head back to Washington on Friday afternoon.

The kids are going to Jonathan’s house after that.

He left very specific instructions about everything. ”

Candace chuckled, though a weight lingered beneath the sound.

“You two landed in a good place,” Pearl said.

Candace sat down at the table. “We did. We ended the way we started—as friends.”

“How did Cooper and Spencer take the news?”

“Better than I expected. Jonathan was candid about his illness. I guess he told Spencer that he looked at death as an adventure. I think that eased Spencer’s fear. Cooper? He was quiet, but that’s how he processes things. He adored Jonathan, you know?”

“I do. Cooper is a thinker, a lot like Jonathan was. He likes to put the pieces of a puzzle together.”

Candace smiled. “True. I think that’s one reason Jameson and Jonathan clicked.”

The back door banged open, startling them both.

“Nana!” Brody shouted, his cheeks flushed from the cold.

Candace laughed. “What is it, Brody?”

“Jay is lost!”

“Jameson is lost? Where did she go?”

“I dunno! We were playing the hiding game. Spence and Coop found all of us. But not Jay.” He tugged insistently on Candace’s hand. “You gotta help, Nana.”

“Let me grab my jacket,” Candace said, rising with a grin. “We’ll find Jay.”

Pearl snickered as Brody pulled Candace toward the backyard. “Those poor Secret Service agents,” she murmured, shaking her head.

The front door opened, letting in a gust of cool air and the shuffle of shoes. Michelle, Jonah, Marianne, Scott, and Laura stepped into the kitchen, shaking off the November chill.

Pearl didn’t turn from where she stood at the back door, one hand braced on the frame, her shoulders trembling with laughter.

“What’s so funny, Grandma?” Marianne asked, setting her gloves on the counter.

Pearl lifted a hand, pointing toward the yard. “Look for yourselves.”

The others crowded behind her, curious.

Out in the yard, Candace jogged across the grass, her jacket flaring behind her like a cape. The kids darted around her, shrieking directions as if they were commanding troops on a battlefield. “Over here, Nana! No, this way! She’s hiding!”

Michelle pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“She'll be in a pile of leaves before it's over,” Pearl said through her laughter. “She’s looking for Jameson.”

Jonah leaned closer to the glass, blinking in disbelief. “I don't think most people would believe the President of the United States is playing hide-and-seek in the backyard.”

“Correction,” Scott said, grinning. “She’s losing hide-and-seek.”

Candace bent low, peering behind a pile of wood, then stood and turned toward the barn.

She called Jameson’s name as if trying to negotiate a treaty, her breath clouding in the crisp air.

The kids squealed and pointed toward the old wheelbarrow near the side of the barn, but Candace ignored them, determined to make the search fair.

Then, with a triumphant laugh, Jameson burst up from the leaves, twigs tangled in her hair and dirt smudged across her cheek. She threw her arms in the air like a victorious gladiator. “Ha! I found myself!”

The yard erupted in giggles, Brody and Jay Jay nearly doubling over as Spencer collapsed into the leaves beside her.

Candace shook her head, laughing despite herself as she trudged over to help Jameson out of the mess. “You’re impossible,” she said, brushing leaves from her wife’s shoulders.

“And you love me for it,” Jameson shot back, planting a quick kiss on Candace’s cheek before jogging past her toward the house, covered in twigs and glory.

Inside, the adult children exchanged looks—bemused, touched, and maybe a little in awe.

Michelle exhaled a soft laugh. “And Mom calls us lunatics.”

“Well, it's probably what keeps us all sane,” Marianne added.

Pearl’s smile lingered as she finally closed the door against the chill. “No probably about it,” she said.

Wednesday Evening

Pizza had won the night, boxes stacked on the counter like bricks in a temporary fortress. Candace had slipped away to her office to take a few calls, leaving Jameson in the living room with the rest of the family.

Spencer and Cooper had disappeared upstairs to play a game.

The younger kids, worn down by raking leaves and chasing each other across the yard, fidgeted restlessly despite their exhaustion.

Their energy sputtered like a candle nearing the end of its wick, the unspoken grief in the house making them edgy in ways they couldn’t name.

Jameson’s gaze shifted to the older children.

Marianne sat with quiet steadiness, her posture calm, her voice light as she helped Spencer with his plate.

Jameson suspected this calmness stemmed from the long hours Marianne had already spent at her father’s side and from the familiarity with loss she had experienced before.

It was strange, Jameson thought, how death could feel both expected and shocking at the same time.

She hadn’t been truly surprised to lose Jonathan; his illness had been a long road.

Yet, when the moment came, it still carried the sharp sting of finality.

One second, he was there; the next, he wasn’t.

It was always like that. No matter how much time you had to prepare, no one was ever really ready.

On the sofa across from her, Michelle shifted restlessly, mirroring the toddlers at her feet.

Jameson recognized the nervous energy instantly.

Shell wore her feelings like a poorly tailored suit—trying to keep them tucked away and hidden beneath crisp lines.

But the more she tried, the more visible they became. She didn’t like to be seen unraveling.

Jonah had been quiet most of the evening, with Sophie curled against his chest as though she sensed he needed her weight and warmth. He listened more than he spoke, nodding occasionally as the conversation flowed but rarely adding to it.

Jameson let her eyes drift over each of them—Candace’s children, who had become her children too.

Each carried grief in their own way, and Jameson felt the thread of responsibility tug at her chest: to steady them if she could, to make space for Candace’s sorrow when she returned, to hold the weight without letting it crush them.

Jameson leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shell,” she said softly, “if you keep bouncing your leg like that, you’re going to launch Avery off the couch.”

Michelle stilled immediately, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t?—”

“You were,” Jameson said with a small smile. “I’ve seen that move before. Your mother used to shake the whole kitchen when she was studying my plans at the table."

That earned her a half-smile from Michelle, a reluctant yet genuine one. “Your plans?"

"For the remodel."

Michelle grinned. "Right. The remodel." She looked at Marianne. "We're not eating at the kitchen table again."

Marianne laughed. "I don't think Mom keeps a Bible in the kitchen, Shell."

"Yeah, well, she hides plenty of other things in there, so?—"

Marianne rolled her eyes. "I'm not telling you where the fortune cookies live. Any of you."

Jameson turned her attention to Jonah. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

Jonah rubbed Sophie’s back, his thumb absently tracing circles. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” Jameson teased gently.

Jonah’s lips twitched. “I was thinking about Dad teaching me to change the oil in his old Buick. He got so mad when I spilled half a quart on the driveway. Said I’d ruined the pavement for life.”

“That sounds like him,” Marianne said fondly.

Jonah nodded, his eyes glistening, but a smile lingered on his face. “I keep remembering these little things, you know? Stuff that never seemed important at the time. But now it’s all I can think about.”

“That’s usually how it works,” Jameson said quietly.

The room softened into a quiet hum, the weight of memory filling the spaces between them.

“I hope everything’s okay,” Jonah murmured. “Mom’s been gone a while.”

Jameson chuckled gently. “People like to talk to the president when they get a chance.”

“That they do,” came a voice from the doorway.

All eyes turned. Candace stood framed by the hall light, a faint smile tugging at her lips, though her eyes carried the weariness of the day.

"Looks like the kids are ready for bed," she commented, claiming a seat beside Jameson.

"It's all the hiding and seeking," Marianne said.

"They love that game," Michelle added.

"Mom and JD started that with Spencer before he could walk," Marianne said.

"Yeah. Don't remind me. Spence hid everywhere," Jameson said. "He even hid in the china cabinet once."

"That's not as bad as the time he managed to zip himself into a cameraman's duffel bag," Marianne noted.

Candace and Jameson laughed.

Michelle shook her head. “You know, Dad never liked hide-and-seek. He always said it was a waste of time.”

Candace’s smile widened, and a soft laugh escaped her. “Oh, he liked it more than you think. Do you remember that Christmas he took all three of you shopping? You disappeared, and when he finally found you…”

Marianne groaned, already smiling. “Under a clothes rack.”

Candace nodded, laughter bubbling as the memory came alive. “There you were, all crammed under one round rack of winter coats, giggling like maniacs. Your father was beside himself; half furious, half trying not to laugh. He swore he’d never take you shopping again.”

“He didn’t,” Jonah said, grinning through his tears.