Page 51 of Campaign Season
"Yes, she is, and she speaks highly of you."
"I hope I can deliver."
Candace leaned forward, her tone softening. “Win or lose tonight, Aubrey—you’ve already done something remarkable. You stood up. You made them pay attention. That takes grit.”
Aubrey’s smile faltered, her nerves showing. “What if it isn’t enough?”
Candace reached across the table, resting her hand lightly over Aubrey’s. “Then you wake up tomorrow and keep going. One defeat doesn’t define you. What matters is whether you believe in the fight. If you do, you stay in it.”
"Some days I think I must be crazy—to think I can make a difference."
“You've made a difference just by putting yourself out here. I don’t just think it. I know it.” Candace sat back, lifting her coffee.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you ever feel like it's never enough?"
Candace smiled. "Every. Single. Day," she said. "But Jameson reminds me constantly that my best has to be enough. The truth is, we're all ripples in the water—even a president. When we move together, that's when we create waves. Whatever happens tonight, I see a bright future for you. Don't forget why you ran this campaign. That's the biggest danger to people who hold office. Politics is the elevator to leadership. Don't get solost on the ride that you forget to step off the lift. And always remember, what goes up, inevitably must go down."
Aubrey nodded slowly, as if tucking the words away for later. “Thank you,” she said. “For this. For showing up. It means more than I can explain.”
Candace smiled and finished the last sip of her coffee. “You don’t have to explain. Just remember—this isn’t the end of anything. It’s only the beginning.”
They rose together, Aubrey smoothing her blazer, Candace tugging her coat into place. For a moment, the chaos of Election Day—the polls, the pundits, the what-ifs—fell away, leaving only two women sharing a quiet resolve.
“Go cast your vote,” Candace said with a wink. “And no fishing until after the results are in.”
Aubrey laughed, the sound light in the chilly morning air.
As Candace stepped toward the waiting motorcade, she glanced back at Aubrey, who stood straighter and steadier. It reminded her why she kept fighting—not for headlines or polls, but for people like this.
Home awaited in New York, with family, with grief, with laughter. Aubrey brightened her hopes for the future.Maybe we'll be all right after all.
Schoharie, New York
Candace enjoyed her brief outing with Aubrey Peters and managed to finish some overdue reading and correspondence on the flight to Albany. By the time she’d cast her vote and made it to the farmhouse, everyone was already gathered. Pearl hadchosen to head home too—a chance to see friends at a house she rarely visited now.
Candace had said her hellos, accepted hugs from her grandchildren, and then politely excused herself, explaining she needed to make a few calls. In truth, she simply wanted to catch her breath.
Jameson stepped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. “Candace?”
“I’m sorry,” Candace said. “It was a hectic morning. I think I just need a minute of quiet.”
Jameson studied her face, then said gently, “Something’s on your mind. I can see it in your eyes.”
Candace sighed.
“Candace,” Jameson pressed softly. “I know you want to set as much aside as you can this week. But something’s weighing on you—something beyond the obvious. Talk to me. Please.”
Candace paced to the window and pulled the curtain aside, staring into the yard. “I always say we all have choices. I’ve never spent much time dwelling on mine. I try to learn from them—the good and the not-so-good.” She turned to face Jameson. “I’ve always felt I had a choice.”
Jameson nodded. “And now you don’t.”
“I know I can choose not to seek reelection, but… how can I make that choice?”
“You can’t.”
