Page 21 of State of the Union (First Family 3)

Sam felt squirrely at the thought of how much time any of those options would take. “Thank you for the info.”

“Of course, ma’am. We’re here for you, so let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

Nick shook his hand. “Thank you for the smooth flight, Taco.”

“My pleasure, sir. Enjoy your time at camp.”

“Will do.”

With Nick’s hand on her lower back, Sam headed for the air stairs to take in the storied camp she’d heard about all her life but had never given two thoughts to how it ran or what went on there.

A naval officer with gold stripes on her uniform sleeve approached them. Petite, with brown skin and a warm smile that lit up her dark eyes, the woman said, “Mr. President, Mrs. Cappuano, I’m Captain Tisha Martin, the commanding officer of Naval Support Facility Thurmont, and it’s my great pleasure to welcome you to Camp David.” She shook hands with them and the kids. “My team and I are here to make sure you fully enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you for having us,” Nick said. “We’re looking forward to it.”

After introducing them to her full team of military and civilian employees, Captain Martin led them to a line of golf carts. “Elijah, would you like to follow us with the kids and Skippy?”

“Sure,” Eli said. “We can do that.”

The reporters who’d traveled with them on board Marine One and a lone TV camera recorded their every move. Even away from the White House, the world was still watching, Sam thought, determined to shake off that unsettling feeling to enjoy this getaway with her family.

Staffers and Secret Service agents boarded the other golf carts.

“Would you like to drive, Mr. President?” Captain Martin asked.

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll take the back seat so you can direct him,” Sam said to Captain Martin.

“That’s the hangar where Marine One will be during your stay here at Camp David. If you’re here, there’ll always be a complement of pilots available to transport you at a moment’s notice if necessary.” As they made their way into the camp, Captain Martin pointed out the chapel, health clinic, gym, fire department and the barracks where the Navy and Marine personnel permanently stationed there lived as well as the officer housing. The wooden guest cabins, painted a mossy green color, had names like Birch, Dogwood, Rosebud, Walnut, Hawthorn, Hickory, Sycamore and Linden, which was fitting, as the camp sat within an oasis of trees. “You’ll never hear a plane overhead, as Camp David is a secure air space. Over there is the playground, which the kids will love, and the Leatherwood basketball court.”

“Check out the presidential seal on the court,” Nick said, pointing it out to Sam.

She couldn’t help but note how happy he seemed to be there, which lifted her spirts, too. He loved to play basketball, and having a court right there would be great for him. If only she could shake off the anxiety that came from being so far removed from her own home base in DC. It was the same feeling she’d had on trips to Bora Bora the last few years, but it was even more so here. When they were on those trips, she was far enough away to let go of her work responsibilities. Here, she was close enough to get to DC if needed, but it would take some doing, and that was the part she found stressful.

Shake it off, she told herself as she took in the scenery and coziness of the camp. You deserve a vacation like everyone else.

Captain Martin directed Nick to a cabin with a rough-hewn sign on the front designating it as Cedar. “Welcome to the presidential cabin, home away from home to every president since FDR.” She pointed to a small pond in front of the cabin. “President Roosevelt had that built because he wanted a water source nearby, as he was desperately afraid of fire.”

They followed her up the stairs to a porch and inside to a surprisingly dated cabin that had just the right amount of coziness and comfort with a stone fireplace being lit by a young Navy sailor, a sunny living room with comfortable-looking furniture and bookshelves she would check out later. Captain Martin showed them the kitchen and pantry, neither of which was anything flashy, as well as four bedrooms. Scotty and Eli decided to share a room, as would the twins.

“This is lovely,” Sam said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Captain Martin said. “Camp David isn’t to everyone’s taste, but those who are able to relax and fully soak up the atmosphere tend to really love the escape it provides from the grind of the White House.”

“I can already tell we’re going to love it,” Nick said.

The sailor lighting the fire stood to greet them. “Welcome, Mr. President, Mrs. Cappuano.”

Sam and Nick shook hands with him.

“What’s your name, sailor?” Nick asked.

“Petty Officer Third Class Mick Torres, sir.”

“Where’re you from, Petty Officer Torres?”

“Tulsa, Oklahoma, sir.”