Page 11 of Campaign Season
"She seemed fine. Why?"
"She seems more concerned about fish than her meeting with the SECDEF."
Carol shrugged. "I doubt it. Jameson skipped out of there right before you went in, mumbling about fish."
"She just seems... distracted."
"Who seems distracted?" Cassidy asked from behind Luke.
"Oh, Cass. You saw the president this morning."
"I did."
"Was she... did she seem okay to you?"
"She's fine, Luke."
He nodded. "I need to find your wife."
"My wife?" Cassidy asked. "Luke, you really need to find your own."
Carol howled with laughter.
Luke rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, this place feels more like my fraternity," he grumbled as he walked away.
Cassidy looked at Carol, and they laughed again.
"He really does need to find a wife—or a husband," Carol said.
"Or just adistraction."
"Well, he has your wife for the moment."
Cassidy snorted. "God help them both."
Chapter
Two
Pere Marquette River
Scottville, Michigan
Campaigning wasn’t Jameson’s favorite sport. There was a reason people referred to certain elected leaders as political athletes. Running for national office required more than charisma or clear messaging. Becoming a successful candidate demanded mental sharpness, emotional toughness, and physical endurance. It was nothing less than a sport.
Her thoughts turned, as they often did, to Candace. Normally, Candace thrived in the chaos of campaign season. This year, though, it was Jameson who found herself enjoying the trail more.
Campaigning could be a long slog, but Michelle and Dana had made most of Jameson’s travels tolerable. Today’s event, however, felt different. Instead of a grind, it felt almost like a vacation.
The river's surface shimmered like fractured silver before Jameson and Aubrey Peters. Jameson inhaled the scent of pine and damp earth, savoring a fleeting taste of freedom. The rustling leaves couldn’t mask the murmurs of staffers managingthe press pool across the bank. Even from a distance, the faint click of camera shutters reminded Jameson that this was still a performance. But here, standing hip to hip with a fishing rod in hand, she felt more like herself than she had in weeks.
She found Aubrey Peters refreshing. The Michigan State Representative carried herself with a rare authenticity—aware of her rough edges, smoothing them for public appearances without sanding herself down to nothing. Their scheduled fishing trip had a purpose: to capture photos of the First Lady and a promising congressional candidate doing something relatable. Usually, such stunts left Jameson counting the minutes. This one didn’t.
“Seems like you’ve done this before,” Aubrey commented.
“I have two brothers and a slew of outdoorsy cousins. Never got into hunting, but I seldom turned down a chance to camp or fish.”
“How does the president feel about that?”
