Page 8 of Campaign Season
Candace rolled her eyes. “There is no way my daughter will let you get away with that.”
“Claire will.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Cassidy said. “I should probably make that call,” she added. “I’ll see you this afternoon,” she told Candace. “JD.”
Jameson offered Cassidy a smile. She waited for the door to close and looked at Candace.
“What?” Candace asked.
“You look tired.”
“Probably because I am.”
Jameson sighed.
“I’m all right, Jameson.”
“No. You aren’t. You’re not sleeping. Talk to me.”
“I’ll be fine. There are a lot of moving pieces right now, that’s all.”
Jameson wanted to press further. Candace had always juggled numerous responsibilities, even before taking the oath of office. This latest unease felt different—deeper. She wasn't irritable or confrontational; in fact, she was quite the opposite. The changes were subtle. Jameson doubted many people noticed the way Candace shifted in her chair and how her fingers drummed against her thigh when she thought no one was watching. Surviving an assassination attempt left deep scars that wouldn’t heal in just a few months. Jameson still held Candace close many nights when a nightmare woke her in a sweat, and her tears stained her cheeks. Her wrist had healed, her bruises were gone, but the memories had yet to fade.
Candace had a natural instinct to protect others, and she was particularly concerned about how the kids would cope with Jonathan's passing. Jameson didn't need to ask; she could see the worry etched on Candace's face. For the past few months, death and illness had cast a long shadow over their lives. Losing Blake in the attack and watching Dana struggle to regain her strength weighed heavily on Candace. She battled with survivor's guilt, and witnessing Jonathan's health slowly decline took a toll on her spirit.
"Are you going to attend this Halloween party as the president?" Jameson asked. "Or should we pull out that old pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja pajamas?"
Candace laughed. "That would certainly get some tongues wagging."
"Imagine if you dressed up as a French maid. You could say it was a foreign policy choice."
Candace rolled her eyes. "You really are a lunatic," she said. "Thank you."
"For?"
"I think you know. Lightening my mood."
Jameson nodded. "Do you feel like telling me why it had darkened?"
"I don't know. I met with Ryan early this morning about Cooper's Halloween wishes."
"Well, we've solved that. Coop will want to be wherever Mackenzie is."
"True," Candace said.
"What else?" Jameson asked.
"Jonathan."
"Candace, maybe we should make plans to head home for a long weekend... or to Marianne's."
"Funny. Cassidy suggested the same thing."
"She knows you."
Candace sighed. "I don't want to put more pressure on him."
Jameson nodded.
