Page 53 of Campaign Season
Jameson tilted her head, unconvinced.
“Okay,” Candace admitted. “Maybe I do.”
Jameson smiled faintly.
“I’m afraid I might not win this next election.”
There it was—the confession that left her raw and unguarded.
“I know,” Jameson said.
“And I can’t lose.”
“I know that, too.”
Jameson guided her toward the bed. “Talk to me.”
“I’ve always been able to move forward,” Candace said. “Once I make a decision, I commit. I don’t waste time second-guessing.”
“But?”
“Would Lawson Klein even be a consideration if someone else sat here?”
“I don’t know. No one does,” Jameson replied.
“He can’t become the nominee.”
“Candace, that’s over a year away.”
“And that time will move faster than anyone realizes. Somehow, he has to be removed from the equation. I’ve never put my thumb on the scale of another election. But this one…” Candace shook her head. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“It wasn’t easy last time,” Jameson reminded her.
“No. But the divides are deeper now—deeper than I could have imagined. People don’t trust their leaders. Any of us. That makes Lawson formidable. He’s?—”
“Vile.”
“Yes. But he’s also seen as an outsider.”
“They tried that with Wolfe,” Jameson said. “It didn’t work.”
Jameson was right, but Candace knew this wasn’t the same. Bradley Wolfe had been dangerous, but he understood government. He wanted a legacy. Lawson Klein wanted chaos—and chaos served plenty of people. Some here. Many abroad.
“Someone wants him to be president,” Candace said quietly.
“Why? Who would it serve?”
“People who thrive on disruption. People who benefit when Americans lose faith in their institutions. I can’t let that happen.”
“Klein isn’t going to be president. Ever.”
“Jameson.” Candace’s voice broke. “I could lose. And I cannot lose to him.”
Jameson studied her—the tightness in her jaw, the restless flex of her hands.
“Do you remember what I said when I proposed?” Jameson asked.
Candace’s lips curved. “Of course.”
