classified, or can you tell me?” Mark asked.
“No, it’s nothing like that. Things aren’t going very well, as you know. My approval numbers are in the high twenties and low thirties. There’s no chance I’ll be reelected, but I can’t exactly acknowledge that, so we just go through the motions of a campaign, and I lose anyway. It’s like fighting a battle that you know you can’t win. It’s tough to get fired up for it, you know?”
Mark nodded. “I do.”
They watched the dogs readjust themselves on the sofas where they were sleeping.
“I’ve got something for you—it’s not much, but it’s something,” he offered.
“What?” she asked.
“Will came home and told Brooke he wanted to enlist in the Marine Corps, but only if you are elected president again in November.”
“You’re joking,” Charlotte said.
“I wish I were. Our only son wants to fight for his country. Brooke is beside herself, and I’m not thrilled about it, either, to be honest. But what’s remarkable is that he is only going to go through with it if you win. He only wants to serve his country if you are its commander in chief.”
Charlotte swallowed a lump in her throat. “Jesus, Mark, I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t Brooke say anything?”
“She refuses to believe that he’ll go through with it, and she said it would be the only silver lining for any of us if you lose.”
Charlotte put her hand on Mark’s. They finished their coffee in silence. He took his cup to the sink and then walked over to where Charlotte was still sitting.
“Get some rest,” he ordered, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Good night.” She smiled.
CHAPTER TEN
Melanie
Melanie spent Saturday night at the Ritz on Central Park South. She ordered room service for dinner and watched pay-per-view movies in her room. She kept her cell phone on but shut off the BlackBerrys. She slept in on Sunday morning and got a massage before heading to the airport for a flight home to D.C.
She went straight to her office. She and Ralph were meeting to talk about the reelection campaign. Charlotte had stopped trying to get an answer from Melanie about running the campaign, but she wanted to see their plan before she left for Afghanistan.
Ralph was in her office when she walked in.
“Hi, Ralph. You’re two hours early,” Melanie said.
“Didn’t you get my e-mails?” he asked.
“No. I had some personal business that I was dealing with this weekend.”
“Oh, well, listen, all my polling models show that the president’s numbers are in a free fall. She has to either dump the VP or pull out—she can’t win on the current path. Her approval on domestic policy is twenty-eight percent; foreign policy is better but not reflected in her overall approval number. Forty-three percent approve of her job in foreign affairs, but only twenty-four percent think she’s a strongleader, and only nineteen percent think she relates to people’s problems,” Ralph reported.
Melanie’s head started to pound. She shoved three Excedrin Migraine pills into her mouth and washed them down with a swig of Diet Coke. She stared at Ralph’s ruddy complexion and receding hairline. He was so unattractive Melanie almost felt sorry for him.
“What’s the bottom line, Ralph?” she asked.
“The bottom line is that she needs a miracle.”
“You mean, we need a miracle, don’t you, Ralph? We’re responsible for her numbers—we write her speeches and bring her the policies that people say they hate in that poll.
We
need a miracle, Ralph.”
“Yeah, whatever, we need a miracle,” he said.
“What’s going on with the third-party movement?” Melanie asked.
“There are some rumblings that the social conservatives are going to run a candidate against her, but it won’t be anyone real. The base is happy enough with her leadership in Iraq and Afghanistan and her tough stand on taxes, so they won’t get behind a third-party challenger.”
“I suppose that
“No, it’s nothing like that. Things aren’t going very well, as you know. My approval numbers are in the high twenties and low thirties. There’s no chance I’ll be reelected, but I can’t exactly acknowledge that, so we just go through the motions of a campaign, and I lose anyway. It’s like fighting a battle that you know you can’t win. It’s tough to get fired up for it, you know?”
Mark nodded. “I do.”
They watched the dogs readjust themselves on the sofas where they were sleeping.
“I’ve got something for you—it’s not much, but it’s something,” he offered.
“What?” she asked.
“Will came home and told Brooke he wanted to enlist in the Marine Corps, but only if you are elected president again in November.”
“You’re joking,” Charlotte said.
“I wish I were. Our only son wants to fight for his country. Brooke is beside herself, and I’m not thrilled about it, either, to be honest. But what’s remarkable is that he is only going to go through with it if you win. He only wants to serve his country if you are its commander in chief.”
Charlotte swallowed a lump in her throat. “Jesus, Mark, I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t Brooke say anything?”
“She refuses to believe that he’ll go through with it, and she said it would be the only silver lining for any of us if you lose.”
Charlotte put her hand on Mark’s. They finished their coffee in silence. He took his cup to the sink and then walked over to where Charlotte was still sitting.
“Get some rest,” he ordered, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Good night.” She smiled.
CHAPTER TEN
Melanie
Melanie spent Saturday night at the Ritz on Central Park South. She ordered room service for dinner and watched pay-per-view movies in her room. She kept her cell phone on but shut off the BlackBerrys. She slept in on Sunday morning and got a massage before heading to the airport for a flight home to D.C.
She went straight to her office. She and Ralph were meeting to talk about the reelection campaign. Charlotte had stopped trying to get an answer from Melanie about running the campaign, but she wanted to see their plan before she left for Afghanistan.
Ralph was in her office when she walked in.
“Hi, Ralph. You’re two hours early,” Melanie said.
“Didn’t you get my e-mails?” he asked.
“No. I had some personal business that I was dealing with this weekend.”
“Oh, well, listen, all my polling models show that the president’s numbers are in a free fall. She has to either dump the VP or pull out—she can’t win on the current path. Her approval on domestic policy is twenty-eight percent; foreign policy is better but not reflected in her overall approval number. Forty-three percent approve of her job in foreign affairs, but only twenty-four percent think she’s a strongleader, and only nineteen percent think she relates to people’s problems,” Ralph reported.
Melanie’s head started to pound. She shoved three Excedrin Migraine pills into her mouth and washed them down with a swig of Diet Coke. She stared at Ralph’s ruddy complexion and receding hairline. He was so unattractive Melanie almost felt sorry for him.
“What’s the bottom line, Ralph?” she asked.
“The bottom line is that she needs a miracle.”
“You mean, we need a miracle, don’t you, Ralph? We’re responsible for her numbers—we write her speeches and bring her the policies that people say they hate in that poll.
We
need a miracle, Ralph.”
“Yeah, whatever, we need a miracle,” he said.
“What’s going on with the third-party movement?” Melanie asked.
“There are some rumblings that the social conservatives are going to run a candidate against her, but it won’t be anyone real. The base is happy enough with her leadership in Iraq and Afghanistan and her tough stand on taxes, so they won’t get behind a third-party challenger.”
“I suppose that
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