Chapter 3 #2
"You may raise your children to follow you into your world, Walt. That is not the legacy I choose for mine."
"You forget, Joe. It is our world."
Stratton nodded. "One I intend to keep her out of."
Randolph chuckled.
"Something amusing?" Stratton asked.
"No. I imagine your granddaughter might have thoughts."
Stratton shook his head. "That much," he said, "is certain."
The White House
Present Day
For Candace, weekends rarely brought the promise of relaxation most people anticipated.
Her life had always been a circus of competing priorities, demanding a constant juggling act.
For years, her weekdays were spent in Washington, followed by weekends running the Three Stooges to practices and parties.
Her marriage to Jonathan had been defined by fleeting moments: a morning kiss and a brief conversation before sleep.
Everything changed after the breakup with Jessica.
Her kids were grown, and Candace could finally relax in her robe, drink coffee, and read a book on a quiet morning.
When she met Jameson, their weekends became peaceful escapes, often free of work or political duties.
Then came the governorship, Cooper, and finally the presidency.
She didn't regret any of it, but sometimes she wished for just one more weekend with her feet in Jameson's lap, Jameson sketching a new idea, takeout on the table, a glass of Chardonnay, and no one needing anything from them.
Maybe it was selfish to want rest. Privilege always came with a cost. She sometimes found a quiet moment in the Solarium with a glass of wine, but reading for fun was rare.
She and Jameson were often headed in different directions.
Cooper was growing up quickly. She thought he would be excited to spend a weekend alone with her, and she believed he looked forward to it.
But now, he didn't need as much time with her.
The little boy who used to curl up in her lap was more independent.
It was a good thing—Cooper was confident, secure, and happy to explore, make friends, and test limits.
Still, it left Candace feeling a little lost.
She was grateful for Cassidy's invitation to spend Saturday at the Toles' house.
The forecast promised a clear, cool day, likely one of the last comfortable enough for a sweatshirt outdoors.
Knowing Cassidy's children, the day would be filled with imaginative games, physical activity, and playful noise.
Quiet might not come to her in the coming days, but a brief sense of normalcy might.
After a long day outside with friends, she imagined Cooper would be ready to settle in for an evening with popcorn and a movie at home.
"Knock, knock."
Candace looked up from her desk and smiled at her secretary of state. "You don't need to linger in the doorway, Jen."
"I know we don't have anything on the calendar. Susan said you were free."
"That's a relative term," Candace said, setting her glasses on the desk. "Feel like a decent cup of coffee?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"It is," Candace said, rising to her feet.
"Are you sure you have time?"
"It isn't my best-kept secret," Candace said. "I try to escape upstairs around this time for a reboot."
"Ah, the advantages of living above your workplace."
"Mm."
"It might not outweigh the drawbacks," Jen said.
"I think it depends on the day," Candace admitted, leading the way from the office.
"Escape hatch time?" Susan asked.
Candace chuckled. "Daily reboot, Susan."
"Mm. I'll let everyone know you're unavailable unless it's an emergency."
"Thank you. I'll be back in half an hour."
"I'll try to keep Luke from summoning you."
Candace winked.
"Luke still hasn't figured out your daily escape?" Jen asked.
"Oh, he knows I head upstairs mid-morning. He assumes it's to touch base with Jameson. She's rarely in the residence during the day. But he seldom ventures over to the East Wing, so he doesn't know that."
"Where is your illustrious chief of staff?"
"On the Hill."
"God help him."
Candace laughed as they stepped into the elevator.
"How are things on the Hill?"
Candace shrugged. Jennifer was one of the few people, aside from her vice president, who truly grasped what it was like to pass legislation.
They'd both served with her in the Senate.
Jen was still green back then, a junior senator who immediately impressed Candace.
Jennifer sought the counsel of senior senators on both sides of the aisle, was quick to cultivate friendships, and impressed everyone with her work ethic.
"It's tense," Candace finally said. "Slim majorities and uneven leadership always cause more tension than blowout elections."
"I recall. Are you worried about the next session?"
"Not worried."
"Aware?"
Candace tilted her head.
The doors opened, and Candace nodded to Agent Rachel Schaffer.
"Madam President."
"Hello, Rachel. How are the kids?"
The agent smiled. "Loud."
Candace nodded. "I'd tell you it gets better. It doesn't."
Rachel offered a small smile. "Ma'am."
"She's new," Jen observed.
"Mm-hm. Marcus hand-picked her. I like her," Candace said. "She has to work at maintaining the stoicism."
Candace led Jen into the kitchen. "Have a seat," she said, moving to start a fresh pot of coffee. "Pearl baked banana muffins," she said, bringing the tray to the table.
"Muffins and coffee? Am I being fired?"
Candace laughed. "You showed up unannounced, remember? Were you hoping for a pink slip?"
"No. A vacation and a raise would be better."
"I'll see what I can do," Candace said, "at least about the first part."
"I was joking."
"You're due for some time off, Jen."
Jen sighed.
"What?" Candace asked.
"I don't think it's the right time for me to take time off."
Candace leaned against the counter and nodded. "There's never a right time, Jen. Sometimes, you just have to make it the right time. You should take the week after Thanksgiving off."
"Candace... we're just stepping up our dialogue with the Chinese delegation?—"
"And you have capable people to handle that. They'll apprise you if there's an issue. I know you. You'll let everyone know you're a phone call away. But you need to step away, Jen. You've been traveling non-stop, and when you do stop—you're in meetings here. Take a breath."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you feel something... I don't know... something?—"
"Brewing?" Candace asked.
"For lack of a better word."
Candace nodded. "Maybe I should pour us some scotch while we wait for the coffee," she said.
"That's not good."
"Things still feel... unsettled," Candace said.
Jen watched her for a moment. "That's one word for it."
Candace poured the coffee slowly, giving the silence room to stretch. "And what word would you use?"
Jen looked toward the doorway, then back at Candace. "Off."
Candace set the pot down. "Off."
"I know. It sounds ridiculous."
"No, it doesn't." Candace brought the mugs to the table and sat across from her. "Not coming from you."
Jen wrapped both hands around her mug. "I've spent the last few weeks telling myself it's fatigue. Travel. Too many briefings. Too many people saying too little with too much confidence."
"That's not unusual."
"No," Jen agreed.
Candace waited.
"But this is different," Jen said. "It feels different. It's not one thing. It's the timing of things. The way information arrives. The way certain people seem prepared for conversations before they happen."
Candace's expression did not change. "People?"
Jen looked down at her coffee.
"Jen."
"I don't have a name," Jen said. "And I don't want to make accusations based on instinct."
"Instinct has its uses."
"So does restraint."
Candace nodded once. "True."
Jen drew a slow breath. "I'm worried someone close to us may have a different agenda."
The words settled between them.
Candace picked up her mug, not because she wanted coffee but because her hands needed something ordinary to do. "Close to us how?"
"That's the problem," Jen said. "I don't know. But it's someone close to the process, or close to you."
Candace's gaze sharpened.
"I wasn't sure I should say anything," Jen admitted.
"Why?"
"Because I respect you too much to bring you smoke and call it fire."
Candace smiled. "That sounds like something I would have said to you ten years ago."
"You did," Jen said. "More than once."
Candace leaned back. "When you came to the Senate, you wanted to solve every problem by Friday."
"I was optimistic."
"And impatient."
"Fair."
"You were also good," Candace said.
Jen's eyes softened. "You taught me not to confuse urgency with clarity."
Candace looked into her coffee. "And now?"
"Now I'm afraid we may be confusing familiarity with safety."
Candace stilled.
Jen immediately regretted the phrasing. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I trust Alex."
"I know."
"I don't want to become suspicious of everyone. That's what fear does, right? It makes everyone look like a threat."
"It can."
"But ignoring it because I'm afraid of what it might mean is also letting fear rule," Jen said.
"You said someone seems prepared for conversations before they happen."
Jen nodded.
"Give me an example."
"The China invitation."
Candace waited.
"I expected the pushback from Joshua, Gil, even Luke. That's normal. It wasn't as robust as I'd expected, Candace. And there were talking points circulating before State had formally drafted the first cable."
Candace's brow furrowed. "From where?"
"I don't know. That's what bothered me. It wasn't enough to trace. Just phrases. Concerns. The same language showing up in different conversations. It's as if someone anticipated your move. And trafficked it abroad. It made me wonder how long that's been happening."
"Mm. Someone managing optics."
Jen nodded. "Maybe. They are definitely sending signals to allies. That's not what worries me most."
Candace took a sip of her coffee and set it down. The residence was quiet, but that silence didn't comfort her anymore.
"Someone is shaping the conversation," she said.
"I think someone is trying to."