Page 29 of Campaign Season
"Yes?"
"Do you think John was worried about an attack? On our soil?"
"I think most of our leaders have a failure of imagination," Alex replied. "A false sense of security. John didn't suffer from that affliction. He prepared for anything."
"I'm not sure we know what to prepare for," Candace remarked.
"Everything."
The morning conversation with Alex had left Candace with a dull headache—one of those that pressed from behind her eyes and settled at the base of her neck. She needed to set it aside before the parade of costumed children came streaming through the Oval Office. Normally, she loved these kinds of events—a chance to connect with people in a way that felt genuine and lighthearted. But today, the weight of it all pressed harder than usual: the election looming on Tuesday, polls swinging wildly, the possibility of painful losses that could cripple her agenda. She tried to hold onto perspective, but her soul felt heavy.
She slipped off her glasses and rubbed her temples.
“Hey.”
Candace looked up to see Jameson leaning in the doorway.
“Uh-oh,” Jameson said lightly. “Bad day?”
“Just a day.”
“Headache?”
Candace gave a faint smile.
“How about a walk before the Halloween parade?” Jameson suggested.
“A walk?”
“Sure. It’s nice outside. A little fresh air?”
Candace narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” Jameson put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I just wanted to take a walk with my wife.”
Candace chuckled. “That’s rarely all you’re up to.”
Jameson grinned. “You’re right. Come on. Humor me.”
She held out her hand, and after a beat, Candace took it, letting Jameson tug her gently from the desk and toward the Rose Garden.
They walked in comfortable silence across the colonnade, the autumn air brisk but pleasant. The Rose Garden still carried the faint perfume of late blooms, the leaves scattered like confetti at their feet. Jameson guided Candace toward a small bench tucked into the curve of a hedge.
“Sit,” Jameson said.
Candace arched a brow but obeyed. “Feeling a little bossy?”
“Oh, no. I know who’s in charge,” Jameson replied, settling beside her. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a fortune cookie.
Candace giggled. “Jameson, did you buy a fortune cookie factory?”
Jameson shrugged and handed it over. “I have connections.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Well? Are you going to open it?”
Candace sighed and cracked the cookie. She snorted, the laugh slipping out before she could stop it.
