Eighteen Acres: A Novel (36 page)

“I’ll find a place to work, and I won’t leave until it’s a speech you are proud of, Madam President. I brought my toothbrush,” Melanie said.

“Thanks, Melanie. You can work up in the residence if you want,” Charlotte offered.

“Actually, I’d rather be close to the speechwriters so we can talk it through.”

“I understand,” Charlotte said.

Melanie stood to leave. “I’ll buzz Sam when we have another draft, and then we’ll go to the Family Theater for a run with the prompters.”

“Sounds great. Melanie, I need to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Melanie said.

“I know that you said there was nothing that would tempt you, but I have one spot I’ve had a very, very difficult time filling. I’ve looked at a few other people, and no one strikes me as having the spine to handle this post with all of its recent controversy and drama.”

Melanie sucked in her breath.

“I want you to serve as my secretary of defense,” Charlotte said.

Melanie was shocked. She had thought Charlotte would ask her to come back to the White House as a senior advisor or maybe head over to DOD as an undersecretary, but she’d never considered that Charlotte would ask her to serve as the secretary of defense.

“I don’t have to tell you how important it is to have competent leadership at DOD right now, because you know better than I do how that place works, which is why I’m asking you to say yes,” Charlotte said.

Melanie was afraid of what would come out if she opened her mouth, so she held her hand over her lips and tried to process the offer.

“Take a walk, Mel. Talk to Brian. Have some lunch. And then come back down here before speech prep and say yes,” Charlotte said, turning to walk back to her desk. “Sam, tell Ralph he can come down now, and please make sure Melanie has a place to work.”

Melanie walked out of the Oval Office and into the hallway, where she was instantly surrounded by West Wing staffers and old friends.

“We miss you,” one of the policy advisors said.

“Ralph doesn’t even get in until seven
A.M.
,” said one of the lawyers.

“You look incredible, Mel. Post–White House life agrees with you,” said the press secretary.

Melanie lingered for a few more minutes, then wandered over to the East Wing. She smiled at the Secret Service agent posted in the hallway and stepped into the Map Room for privacy. She dialed Brian’s cell, and he picked up on the first ring.

“How’s the speech?” he asked.

“It’s fine. She’s high-strung today, so I’ve been doing some hand holding, but the speech was in pretty good shape.”

“That’s good. So, you’ll make it home tonight?”

“She asked me to be the Sec Def,” Melanie said.

“Jesus. She really doesn’t want you to leave!” Brian exclaimed.

“What do you think?” Melanie asked.

“What do
you
think?” Brian said.

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to tell you how far out on a limb she’d be going to put me there.”

“About as far as you’ve been hanging on that limb for the last four years for her,” Brian said.

“What should I do?”

“You know what to do,” he told her.

“Yeah, I do,” she said. “But this is going to be complicated.”

“I love complicated.”

“Complicated loves you,” Melanie said.

“See you tonight,” he said.

Melanie hung up and put the phone into her pocket. She decided to make Charlotte sweat it out until dinner, so she walked over to the Old Executive Office Building, where the speechwriters were holed up. The room smelled like socks, chicken fingers, and air freshener. The head speechwriter pulled up a chair in front of the computer and handed Melanie the keyboard.

“We need some fresh eyes,” one of the writers said.

“You want something from the Mess?” the head speechwriter asked.

“Never again,” she said. “I think I’ve eaten my last meal in captivity.”

Melanie took the keyboard and started tinkering. She struck a chunk of the middle of the address, where it got bogged down in a lengthy section about America’s role in the world. She shared her idea for the end of the speech with the speechwriting team, and they talked through how to make it work.

They worked this way for about an hour and a half. When everyone was pleased with the revisions, Melanie called Sam to tell her they were bringing Charlotte a new draft to read before the prompter session.

“Mel, she wants to see you alone,” Sam said.

“After speech prep,” Melanie said.

“She won’t like that,” Sam said.

“I know,” Melanie said.

They went through the inaugural address three times; Charlotte had most of the speech committed to memory.

Even Ralph admitted that the new material was better. “Thanks for saving the day, as usual,” he said.

Melanie looked at his face for hints of sarcasm, but all she saw in his eyes was terror. “I didn’t save the day, Ralph. The speech was really good. I hardly changed it. Charlotte knows that you guys did a great job without me. She just likes for all of us to feel needed,” Melanie said.

“In your case, it’s true. I don’t know how you did this job for four years. I’m ready to kill myself,” he admitted.

“You’re going to do a great job,” she said.

“What are you two talking about?” Charlotte asked.

“Sending you and Tara back out on another ‘Conversation with America’ tour,” Melanie said, smiling mischievously.

“I’ll have you killed before I’ll do that again. Melanie, do you have a few minutes, or are you late for personal training or a hair appointment or something?” Charlotte asked testily.

“Someone is a little nervous about her big speech tomorrow,” Melanie teased.

“Walk with me, Melanie,” Charlotte said as she headed down the long red-carpeted hallway between the East Wing and the West Wing. She was walking faster than normal, and Melanie was walking slower than normal. Finally, Charlotte stopped and glared at Melanie. “I don’t know what else to do. I offered you something that I thought would mean something to you, and you’ve been playing it cool all day long,” Charlotte said.

“I’m sorry,” Melanie said. “I would be honored to serve as your secretary of defense.”

Relief washed over Charlotte’s face, and she smiled at Melanie. “Thank God,” she said.

Melanie smiled back at her. “Thank you for the opportunity,” she said.

“Things are going to be different,” Charlotte told her.

“I know,” Melanie said.

The dogs bounded down the stairs and jumped up on Charlotte’s black suit, leaving paw prints all over her. “Want to come outside with us?” she asked.

“Sure,” Melanie said.

Charlotte slipped into a coat and handed a parka to Melanie. They walked out to the South Lawn.

“Why is it always so damn cold for inaugurals?” Charlotte asked.

Melanie rubbed her arms to keep warm. “Tradition,” she said.

“I thought you might want to read this,” Charlotte said, handing her a worn piece of stationery that Melanie recognized immediately as Roger’s.

She took the letter from Charlotte and felt her throat tighten. She held it in both her hands.

“Hang on to it, and read it when you feel like it,” Charlotte said.

Melanie smiled and nodded. She slid the letter into her purse and watched the dogs play in the snow.

“Do you and Brian have plans tonight?” Charlotte asked.

“No, but you have your folks and the twins in town, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I thought we’d celebrate your new position. Roberta made your favorite chocolate cake,” Charlotte said.

“I never say no to chocolate cake,” Melanie said.

“Is that a yes?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes,” Melanie said, laughing at Charlotte’s persistence.

“Great,” Charlotte said.

Melanie started back toward the Oval Office to gather her things. She stopped in the lanai and watched Charlotte on the South Lawn with the dogs for a minute. She saw Charlotte pat the coat pocket where the letter from Roger had been. Melanie put her hand in her purse to make sure the letter was where she’d put it. As Melanie watched Charlotte toss the ball to the dogs, she tried to see Charlotte as the most powerful head of state in the world. She watched the elegant woman in the beige belted winter coat wrestle with her three dogs and tried to imagine Charlotte the way others saw her.

Melanie knocked on the glass, and Charlotte’s head spun around. She motioned for Melanie to come back outside. Melanie shook her
head, and Charlotte made her way toward the lanai with the dogs trailing close behind.

“You’re still here,” she said.

“How did you know I’d say yes?” Melanie demanded.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.

“You made a chocolate cake. How did you know I’d say yes?” Melanie said.

Charlotte was scratching the dogs’ backs. “You think you were the one handling me all these years, but I picked up a few things from you about the art of manipulation,” Charlotte said, smiling slyly.

“I never manipulated you,” Melanie protested.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way—I needed to be manipulated most days, or I would have stayed in bed until noon,” Charlotte said.

For once, Melanie didn’t know what to say.

“Besides, I knew you wouldn’t want to miss the show,” Charlotte said.

“What show?” Melanie said.

“The Tara show,” Charlotte said, fighting the urge to smile.

Melanie laughed. “She’s going to be fine. I was too hard on her.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Sorry,” Melanie said.

“No, no. You were right. She’s a pain in the ass, but we wouldn’t have won without her.”

Melanie sighed. “I know. So, what now?”

“Well, tonight we celebrate your new job, and tomorrow we get up and start all over again,” Charlotte said.

There were four miracles that made this book possible. The first was my husband’s blind faith in my ability to write a novel. He is the reason I sat down at the computer and started typing. The second miracle was getting to know Wendy Button when I did. She is one of the most gifted writers I’ve ever known, and her approval and encouragement inspired me to keep going.

The third miracle was meeting Sloan Harris, the kind of agent people dream of having in their corner. His guidance, direction, and belief in this effort changed
everything
. The fourth and final miracle was the opportunity to work with Emily Bestler. I still get chills when I see all the amazing writers she edits. I’m grateful for her wisdom and kindness.

Thanks to my mom and sister who read pages as I wrote them and made them better, and to Aimee Violette and her mom who did the same. Thank you to the friends and family who cheered me on and lifted me up: Joe and Natalie Comartin, who inspired the story of friendship in these pages, Mark and Annie McKinnon, Matt and Liz Clark, Steve and Angela Schmidt, Ken Mehlman, Matt and Mercy Schlapp, Geoff and Ann Morrell, Dana Bash and John King, Michael Glantz, Barbara Fedida, Terry and Marci Nelson, and Pat and Milt Wallace. Thanks to Katie Couric who was one of the first people to encourage me to make lemonade out of lemons. Thank you to Tina Brown for offering me my first job as a writer, and to my colleagues at
The Daily Beast,
Edward Felsenthal, Tom Watson, Bryan Curtis, and Andrew Kirk, for making sure I never fell down on the job. Thank you to Henley MacIntyre Old for keeping me honest, on time, and organized (a monumental undertaking).

Thank you to all the people who allowed me to witness history in the making. It was an unforgettable experience.

To Molly Rosenbaum, Michelle Humphrey, Kristyn Keene, and John DeLaney at ICM, thank you for your patience and support. To Paul Olsewski, Lisa Sciambra, and Mellony Torres at Atria, thank you for letting me be part of your team. To Jeanne Lee, Kate Cetrulo, and Rachel Bostic at Atria, thank you for sharing your talents with me. To Judith Curr and Carolyn Reidy, thank you for taking a chance on me.

Finally, thanks to Courtney, Ashley, Zack, and my parents, Ronnie and Clive Devenish, for always being there.

Nicolle Wallace is a political commentator who appears regularly on news programs such as ABC’s
Good Morning America, The Sean Hannity Show
on Fox News, and
Morning Joe
on MSNBC. She is also a contributor to
The Daily Beast.

Wallace, who served as communications chief for George W. Bush’s White House and reelection campaign, was credited with “injecting a tremendous amount of realism” into White House deliberations. According to the
Washington Post,
she served as “a voice for more openness with reporters” (
Washington Post,
June 28, 2006). The
New York Times
story announcing her presidential appointment carried the headline:
“New Aide Aims to Defrost the Press Room”
(January 10, 2005). Wallace was described by former colleagues as “very persuasive in the halls of the West Wing.”

Wallace also served as senior advisor for the McCain-Palin campaign in 2008. She appeared frequently on network and cable news programs as the campaign’s top spokesman and defender.

Wallace is a California native and graduate of the University of California, Berkeley and Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism. She lives in New York City and Connecticut with her husband, Mark, a former ambassador to the United Nations, and their vizsla, Lilly. This is her first novel.