Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
Natick, Massachusetts
There was a saying about people in glass houses.
Nicolaus Toles had never understood whether it was meant as a warning or a threat.
The building stood in front of him, a cold slab of mirrored glass reflecting the gray November sky.
He caught sight of himself—coat collar turned up, shoulders slightly hunched.
As he moved closer, his reflection stretched, making him look tall and thin against the clouds, like something viewed through a carnival mirror.
He looked like a man already distorted by what waited inside.
“Don’t look so despairing.”
He turned. Bill Brackett stood a few feet back on the salted sidewalk, his breath visible in the cold air. “I wasn’t built for an office, Bill.”
Brackett’s mouth bent slightly, but it was not quite a smile. “We all play our part. Your father left you his legacy.”
“I’m not a businessman.”
“No. You’re an asset, just like the rest of us. And now you’re being deployed,” Brackett said, glancing up at the building. “I would think you’d be grateful to leave the field.”
Nicolaus turned back to the building. Everything felt distorted—his figure in the glass, the cold air filling his lungs, and the man standing a few feet behind him, head tilted.
“It will give you time to spend with your family. Think of the legacy you will have to leave Alexis,” Brackett offered.
Nicolaus turned abruptly. “Alexis will not inherit my legacy.”
“That isn’t for you to decide,” Brackett said.
“It isn’t for you to decide, either.”
“Perhaps not.”
Nicolaus’s jaw tightened.
Brackett laughed. “What did you expect?” he asked. “We accept what we are assigned.”
“And what is your assignment?”
“For now, I’m in the business of deployment.”
Deployment. The word sounded cold and calculating. Probably because it was.
Nicolaus Toles had spent most of the past decade working at his father’s company.
To everyone else, he appeared to be learning the business, sitting across mahogany tables from men in sharp suits, negotiating contracts, and nodding at quality standards he could not have explained.
Carecom did business around the world, holding big contracts with the United States military and its allies.
Nicolaus had learned to speak the language of contractual obligation, innovation, and strategic partnerships as if he had grown up with it.
Business leaders and government officials shook his hand and believed what they saw.
He knew nothing about running a business. He had never managed an account, never hired an employee, never signed a check that was not a prop in someone else’s theater.
He was a spy.
A spy whose cover story had just become his assignment.
“What makes you think I’ll succeed in this assignment?” Nicolaus asked without turning.
“You’ll succeed because failure is not an option.”
Friday, December 11th
Washington, D.C.
Two things Candace and Jameson had in common were a tendency to rise early and a bad habit of working late into the night. It was the curse of a mind that refused to slow down even when the body screamed for it to halt.
Candace strolled into the bedroom, coffee mug in hand. "Good morning."
Jameson sat up and stretched. "Morning," she mumbled through a yawn. "You're already dressed," she observed. "Early meeting?"
"No."
Jameson sipped her coffee, peering at Candace over the rim.
"I'm glad you're going to Marianne's this weekend," Candace said.
"But?"
"No. There isn't a but."
"Mm-hm."
Candace sighed.
"Candace?"
"I have a terrible feeling, Jameson."
Jameson set her mug on the bedside table. “Losing Jonathan has been hard on everyone.”
Candace shook her head.
"Listen, it's been rough the last few months," Jameson said. "I know you're worried about the kids."
"I'm worried about a lot of things."
Jameson nodded. Everyone fell prey to worry.
She wasn't sure if the speechwriters would say there was a difference between concern and worry.
She thought so. Worry pressed on you. Concern heightened your awareness.
Candace tended toward the latter. It was rare for Candace to say she was worried.
And those moments almost always were about the kids or grandkids.
This morning, Jameson sensed there was more behind the statement.
"Do you want me to stay here?" Jameson asked.
Candace smiled warmly and touched her lips to Jameson's softly. "No, but thank you for offering."
"Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?"
"Honestly, Jameson, I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Do you want me to bring Coop with me?"
Candace shook her head. "No. Unless something disastrous needs my attention, I intend to spend the weekend with Coop."
Jameson smiled. "That sounds like exactly what you both need."
Candace sighed.
"Candace?"
"I hope so," Candace said. "I know Cooper likes to spend time with his friends."
"Sure. But he misses you."
Candace sighed again.
"Don't do that," Jameson warned. "He's not depressed or insecure. You and Coop have this amazing bond, Candace. I know he loves me, and I know he likes to spend time with me. But you will always be the person Cooper feels safest with."
"I don't think that's true."
"It's completely true. You loved your parents and grandparents. Pearl has always been and will always be that person for you."
"You're that person for me," Candace said.
"Not the same."
"I know. He's grown so much, Jameson. I don't want to miss everything."
Jameson smiled. "You haven't missed everything. The only experience I have with raising kids is with Cooper. I know this much: no matter how much you wish you could be part of everything in his life, you can't."
"I know."
"We've all struggled at times to adjust to living here—to your presidency." Jameson chuckled. "Coop's adjusted better than anyone."
Candace smiled.
"He loves his school and his friends—not just Kenzie."
"He does," Candace agreed.
"And he has a terrific Secret Service detail who keeps him engaged. Coop is thriving, Candace. I'm not suggesting it will always be this way. I imagine in a couple of years, when he wants more freedom, we might have some pushback."
Candace nodded. "Probably so."
"But right now? Right now, Coop is happy. And he'll be thrilled to spend time with you. Just you."
"I just wish I could take him somewhere."
"Mm. You wish you could indulge at Moos and Chews."
Candace laughed. "Maybe."
"You don't need to take Coop anywhere. Go downstairs to the bowling alley. Have chicken wings and let him drink a couple of sodas. Watch a movie in our bedroom with popcorn. That's all Coop needs."
Candace leaned in and kissed Jameson. She reached for the mug on the table and handed it to Jameson. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold," she said, getting to her feet.
"I'll come see you before I leave," Jameson promised. "If you're in a meeting?—"
"Interrupt me," Candace said.
"I can always?—"
"Interrupt me," Candace repeated.
Jameson nodded.
Candace pointed to the mug. "There's half a pot left in the kitchen."
"I love you," Jameson said.
"For making coffee?"
"It's a factor."
Candace laughed. "I'll see you in a bit."
Jameson held up her mug. "After I drink the pot."
Candace shook her head and walked out of the room, chuckling.
Jameson sighed. "I think I need to make a call."
Arlington, Virginia
Cassidy stood at the top of the stairs, silently watching as Alex winced and stretched her back.
"Went for a run?" she asked.
Alex looked up and grimaced.
Cassidy sighed and walked down the stairs.
"Overdid it, huh?" she asked.
Alex groaned.
"Come on," Cassidy said. "Let's get you on the sofa."
Alex let Cassidy guide her to the sofa. She sat gingerly on the cushion and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.
"Alex."
"I didn't even run that hard."
Cassidy smiled. Alex's version of a hard run was not the same as most people's.
"You know," she said softly. "You don't have to push yourself into pain to make the run worth it."
Alex huffed.
"You're nervous about spending time with Dylan," Cassidy observed.
"No. I'm looking forward to it."
"Oh, I know you're looking forward to being with him. You're also worried about what he might show you that he's been working on, and what he might have to say about his future."
Another huff.
Cassidy smiled. "I understand."
"You do?"
"Of course I do."
"You seem to accept his?—"
"He's twenty, Alex. He'll always be that little boy with the field-day ribbon to us.
There are so many days when I wonder how time slipped by.
It seems like one day you were building the Batcave together, talking about cars and superheroes, and the next he was taking SATs, and we were waving goodbye to him. I understand."
"I never expected him to choose this path, Cass."
"I know. But it is his choice, love."
Alex nodded.
"I want to protect the kids from anything that can hurt them," Cassidy said. "We both know that's impossible. Our parents tried to do the same thing. Look where that led."
"Cass, I know you're still angry at Jim. But he?—"
"I love my father, Alex. And believe it or not, I trust that he loves me. But he took away so much from me. And it isn't only me he took from." Cassidy held up her hand. "I know he loves Mom. And he loves Claire." She smiled softly. "And God knows Claire is so much like him."
Alex chuckled.
"Don't you think so?" Cassidy asked.
"Sure. I think you miss how much you and your dad are alike at times."
Cassidy bristled slightly.
"That's not an insult," Alex said. "You would never abandon your family. That's not what I mean."
Cassidy nodded.
"Cass..."
"What?"
"You don't see it. How much you, Claire, and your dad are alike."
Cassidy shook her head.
"You are," Alex said. "One way is that you struggle to forgive yourselves. I know you're struggling with him right now. I can also feel how much you want to forgive him."
"Claire wants me to forgive him."
"It's not about Claire," Alex said. "Claire sees this differently from you."
"Because she has a chance to have a father—her father—our father."
"Partly."
"Partly?"