Page 6 of Campaign Season (By Design #18)

Alex arched a brow. “Defense meeting. Close enough.”

Cassidy studied her for a moment, reading her the way only someone with a lifetime of shared history could. “Worried about Candace?”

“Not worried,” Alex said, then hesitated. “She's tired. Worn thinner than she’ll ever admit.”

Cassidy sighed, her expression softening. “Jonathan's not doing well,” she explained.

"I saw the toll this place took on John."

"I know. Candace needs to find her balance again, Alex. She's worried about the kids... and she carries a lot of guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Making the sacrifices to be here is one thing for her; asking that of her family is another."

"I don't think any of Candace's kids see it that way."

"No," Cassidy agreed.

"At least JD gave her a reason to laugh, thanks to a steelhead trout and a clumsy dive into the mud."

Cassidy laughed. “I saw the clip. Shell said she should sell the rights to Reality: White House .”

“It would sell," Alex chuckled. “For once, the cameras caught something worthwhile.”

"Let's see if someone finds JD a shower before she flies home," Cassidy added.

They paused at the junction where their paths split, Cassidy heading for the press wing and Alex toward her office. For a moment, Alex wished she could follow Cassidy instead—home, to laughter, to normal. But her phone buzzed, duty already pulling her forward.

Cassidy noticed the flicker in her eyes. “Go save the world, Batman,” she teased gently.

"I feel a lot more like Alfred these days," Alex replied.

"Well, you always told me you live to serve."

Alex laughed, leaned close, and kissed Cassidy's cheek. "Are you going to bring a tackle box to the press conference?"

Cassidy shrugged. "Might not be a bad idea; give them something to chew on," she said, winking as she turned the corner.

Alex shook her head and answered her phone. "Hey, Claire. Yeah. I saw it. Nope. It was just a campaign stop, not a secret mission. But on that note..."

Jameson stretched her neck until it popped gently and closed her eyes.

“Ms. Reid?”

Jameson looked up. One of the young aides Michelle had hired to assist with campaign events stood beside her seat, shifting nervously. She smiled. “Amy, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Mm. JD,” Jameson said. “You can call me JD. What can I do for you?”

“Mrs. Russo called. She said to tell you that your fishing expedition landed you some invitations.”

Jameson raised an eyebrow. “To what? Appear on The Fishing Channel?”

“No. Umm. On the Tonight Show.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Tonight,” Amy said.

“Come again?”

“They want to slide you into a spot on the Tonight Show tonight.”

“Um, Amy? It’s almost four. Doesn’t the Tonight Show tape in an hour?”

“Yes?”

“Yes? Is that a question or does it tape in an hour?” Jameson asked, unsure if she was growing frustrated or amused—maybeboth.

“Ms. Russo said that they can get clearance to land in New York instead. The Secret Service cleared it.”

“Mm-hm. And why did Ms. Russo call you and not me ?”

“She said she tried. Twice.”

Jameson grumbled and reached for her personal phone. She thumbed her phone awake and frowned. The screen flickered once before holding steady, a faint watermark still ghosting the glass. She muttered, “Guess it’s more waterlogged than I thought. Damn trout.”

Amy tried not to laugh.

Jameson held down the button, waited for the call to connect, and finally heard Dana’s voice.

“About time,” Dana said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost twenty minutes.”

“Well, my phone went swimming. Along with my dignity.”

“You’re fine,” Dana said, brushing past it in that clipped press-secretary tone she’d perfected.

“Don’t use that voice on me, Dana.” Jameson settled back in her chair, letting the exasperation play in her tone. “Why am I hearing from Amy about a Tonight Show ambush instead of you?”

“Because you didn’t answer. Twice.”

“You know, most people would just have someone hand me their phone, not draft a nineteen-year-old into their conspiracy.”

Dana sighed. “JD, you’re trending in five countries. The clip has more views than half of the campaign spots we had Candace record put together.”

Jameson pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, now you want me to trip over my own tongue on national television?”

“Relax. Everyone will fawn over you. You’ll tell a couple of fishing jokes, maybe a self-deprecating line about mud and trout. America eats that stuff up.”

“Mm-hm. And you cleared this with Candace?”

There was a pause. “Would I send you without her okay?”

Jameson groaned. There was no way out.

“I didn’t exactly need to twist her arm,” Dana admitted. “She knows the value. This makes you relatable. Real. Which makes her relatable. Real. Besides, it’s good for a laugh.”

Jameson chuckled, though her annoyance hadn’t entirely faded. “At my expense. You are the master of this spin thing, Dana. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.”

Dana laughed, knowing exactly what Jameson was doing. “Hook. Nice. Very on-brand.”

“Uh-huh. You’re just lucky I love you,” Jameson said. “Otherwise, I’d tell the world the whole mess was your fault and let you handle the fallout.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

There was a beat of silence, then Dana’s voice lost some of its professional edge. “You know she only agreed because of you.”

Jameson blinked. “Because of me?”

“Yeah. You make her laugh, JD. And after the last few months…” Dana trailed off, her voice softening.

“She needs more of that. We all do. So don’t think of it as a stunt.

Think of it as giving people a little glimpse of the woman I’ve known since college—the one who can’t stay upright on a riverbank to save her life. ”

Jameson sighed. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Never have. Never will.”

“Fine. But if I end up in a meme wearing waders and a black eye, I’m blaming you.”

Dana chuckled. “Deal. Now please tell me you have something to wear on that plane that doesn’t smell like fish.”

“They wouldn’t let me on until I showered.”

Dana snorted.

“Good. Let Amy help you get camera ready.”

“Bossy,” Jameson muttered.

“Best friend,” Dana corrected warmly.

Jameson smiled, shaking her head. “God help me. I’m coming home tonight, Dana. No more appearances. ”

“I promise.”

Jameson disconnected the call and looked at Amy. “The things I do, Amy… the things they get me to do.”

Jameson let out a sigh as the motorcade passed through the gate.

It had been a long day that had stretched into the late hours of the night.

She still wasn’t sure how Dana had managed to arrange a schedule change so quickly; no doubt Candace had played a role, and maybe Alex as well.

Alex had connections. The whirlwind of makeup artists, studio lights, and rapid-fire questions already felt surreal.

She had managed to get through it without stumbling or swearing, and that felt like a small victory.

She pushed open the door to the residence, grateful to kick off her shoes. Laughter drifted from the family room, loud and overlapping.

When she stepped in, every face turned toward her: Candace curled up on the sofa with Cooper leaning against her side, Michelle perched on the armrest beside Pearl, Cassidy and Dana sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Even Alex was there, arms folded, wearing the look of someone pretending she hadn’t been laughing just a moment ago.

“Well,” Jameson said dryly, “this looks suspicious.”

Cooper bounded up from the couch. “Mom! You’re on TV tonight!”

"And you're up past your bedtime."

Candace’s smile warmed the room. “We thought you might want company for your big debut.”

Jameson groaned. “You’re all enjoying this way too much.”

“Are you kidding?” Cassidy said. “We even made popcorn.”

Pearl winked. “And Dana promised she’d provide commentary.”

“Color commentary,” Dana corrected with a grin.

Jameson dropped onto the couch, tugging Cooper close. “Fine. But if I have to relive that fish smacking me in the head, one of you is bringing me some of Candace’s good scotch.”

“You don’t need scotch,” Candace murmured, leaning in close so only Jameson could hear her. “I love you.”

Before Jameson could answer, a voice boomed from the television: “Ladies and gentlemen, America’s new favorite angler—First Lady Jameson Reid!”

The clip of the steelhead flopping into her forehead filled the screen. The room exploded with laughter—loudest of all from Cooper, who nearly toppled off the edge of the sofa.

Jameson groaned again, though she couldn’t keep from smiling. “God help me. I’ll never live this down.”

Candace’s soft laugh brushed her ear. “A little lunacy never hurt anyone,” she whispered.

“At least you didn’t catch yourself with a hook,” Pearl offered.

“Not this time,” Dana said.

“What do you mean, ‘not this time?’” Michelle asked.

“Well, in fairness, it was Steve who got JD’s hook in his eyebrow,” Dana explained.

“I told him to wear a hat,” Jameson said. “And I can’t help that he doesn’t pay attention.”

“Oh, what other secrets do you have about JD?” Michelle asked.

Jameson rolled her eyes and leaned back into the cushions, chuckling as Candace’s head rested on her shoulder.

Despite her late-night appearance, the day had been surprisingly “normal.” She had slipped in both real and metaphorical mud more times than she could count over the years.

The good-natured laughter that followed her mishaps didn’t offend her.

Sitting in the family room with people she loved, listening to their teasing, felt like home.

Candace’s posture was more relaxed than Jameson had seen in weeks.

If a muddy mishap was all it took to bring this comfort, she was more than happy to oblige.

The moment felt ordinary. She wanted to hold onto it.

Cooper looked at her curiously.

“What is it, Coop?” Jameson asked.

“Can we go fishing?”

“Sure. I didn’t think you liked seeing the fish get hooked.”

Cooper shrugged.

“We can always go by the water, Coop. We don’t have to fish.”