Page 1 of Campaign Season
Prologue
Jameson
There are many things I wish people knew about my wife. From a distance, it’s easy to see someone in her position as untouchable. Too often, people either put Candace on a pedestal or try to tear her down. They forget she’s just a woman—someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, a friend, and a wife.
She carries a heavier burden than most can imagine: not only the responsibility of leading the world’s most powerful country but also the hopes, dreams, and fears that come with it. People often lose sight of the woman behind the president, but she never loses sight of them. She understands that this country is made up of real people—vulnerable, imperfect, and irreplaceable.
I’ve never known anyone like her. I wish more people understood how deeply she cares about them, even when they are the ones trying to crucify her.
Candace warned me early on in our relationship about the vitriol directed at her. I wish I could claim that I’ve grown used to it. I’ve learned how to suppress my frustration and anger. I confess it’s a challenge at times. No one enjoys criticism. Butwatching the person you love more than anyone vilified—even dehumanized—is painful and infuriating. I often need to close my eyes and remember what Candace told me all those years ago.
Schoharie, New York
10 Years Earlier
Candace watched as Jameson stared at the television, her expression unreadable.
“Jameson?”
A deep breath. Then another. Finally, Jameson turned.
“Jameson,” Candace said gently, “it’s just part of the equation.”
“Name-calling?” Jameson shook her head.
Candace sighed, picked up the remote, and shut off the TV. “No more Sunday news programs for you,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“How can you be so calm?”
“I’ve been called worse by better.”
“I’d like to?—”
Candace’s laugh cut her off.
“You’re laughing?” Jameson asked in disbelief.
“Jameson.”
“Stop saying my name like I’m in time-out.”
Candace sighed again.
“You can’t expect this not to piss me off.”
“I don’t want it to upset you,” Candace replied softly.
“Someone attacking you upsets me. How would you feel if they said those things about me?”
“I’d be furious.”
Jameson threw her hands up.
“I love you,” Candace said, her voice low. “And I love that you want to defend me. I do.”
“But?”
“But people like Congressman Marion aren’t worth the effort.”
