Page 60 of Campaign Season
“Are you thinking you might not run for reelection?”
Candace didn’t flinch. “I think about it all the time. But I don’t think that’s an option.”
“Meaning you’d rather not run again.”
“Shell, I love being president.”
“But…”
“But it comes at a cost. And not just for me. Don’t argue—just listen. That has to be part of the equation for any leader. Or it should be.” She drew a slow breath, steadying herself. “It isn’t easy compartmentalizing—setting aside my personal fears so I can make decisions for millions of people.”
“I know that, Mom. But that’s not what’s keeping you up at night.”
“It’s part of it.”
“And the other part is Lawson Klein?”
Candace hesitated, then nodded. “I worry about Laura,” she admitted softly. “But Lawson isn’t the real concern. It’s the people behind him. His stock was at rock bottom a few years ago. To call his rise meteoric would be an understatement. Nothing that’s happened these last few months has been random, Shell—the explosion in New York, the grid attacks in Europe, Theresa Keller’s motorcade, the shooting of the UK Foreign Minister. It’s all connected.”
Michelle frowned. “And where does Lawson fit in?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Lawson doesn’t care about foreign policy. I doubt he even understands why it matters, except as a way to burnish his image or line his pockets. But that’s exactly why certain interests want him propped up.Chaos here creates openings abroad—and at home. At the very least, his rhetoric poisons the middle and fractures alliances I’ve worked to build. And we’re losing seasoned leaders every day. Lawson thrives on division. Absolutes.”
Michelle leaned in, her voice steady. “All the more reason for you to stay in the fight.”
“I’m not bowing out, Shell. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel conflicted. Politics has always been messy. Ugly. Things were quieter for us when I was in the Senate. I had critics, yes—but for the most part, people accepted me in that role. The presidency is different. It’s constant scrutiny. And I worry about what that means for Cooper. For all of you.”
Michelle tilted her head. “What does JD think?”
Candace’s lips curved into a smile. “Jameson misses ordinary life. So do I.” She chuckled. “But she also understands the stakes—and the privilege it is to serve. She’d love to spend her hours tinkering with the barn or running with the kids. There are things we both miss. Simple things. Buckling babies into car seats for a trip to the park. Wandering through an antique shop unnoticed. Those days are gone for us, and we accepted that when I ran the first time. I’m not sure either of us knew what it would really mean, but Jameson is as committed to my presidency as I am. That includes another term.”
Michelle nodded. “We fared better last night than you expected.”
Candace took a sip of coffee, then set the mug aside. “In the numbers, yes.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? Mom, we held the Senate. And the Republicans only have a four-seat majority in the House. They won’t be able to do much without some support from Democrats.”
“True. But our margin in the Senate is razor-thin. Two seats. That means every vote will require careful negotiation—and working across the aisle is harder than it’s ever been.” She leaned back, her expression sober. “You need to look beyond the numbers, Shell. Look at the people who won. Things have shifted. Partisanship has always been part of the job, especially over budgets or social issues. But when I came to Congress, most people—even when we disagreed—were there to do the work. They believed in oversight. In governing.”
She exhaled slowly. “Now? Some of these newer representatives treat Congress like a stage. They’re chasing clicks and soundbites, more interested in being influencers than legislators. And that kind of spectacle serves someone like Lawson.”
“It’s still early. I’m sure there will be people who challenge him for the nomination.”
Candace nodded, though her expression remained serious. “Let’s hope one of them succeeds.”
Jameson chuckled softly as she watched Cooper and Spencer unearth treasures from inside the old dry sink that had been shoved against the wall. “God only knows what’s in there,” she said.
“Are you seriously thinking about turning this into a living space?” Jonah asked.
“Why not?”
“Uh, JD? It might be easier to tear it down and start fresh.”
Jameson tipped her head back, studying the wooden beams overhead. The frame was solid—sturdy in a way most modern builds weren’t. “Easier doesn’t mean better, Jonah.”
“You could design something that would fit seamlessly with the house.”
“I could,” she allowed. “But it wouldn’t have the history this place holds.”
