and have begun vetting the candidates. Jenna is helping with that. Hope you donât mind . . .â
âOf course not, sir. But I just donât think this is the time for me toââ
âIf not now, then when? You think things are going to slow down after January twentieth? You have got to take some time for yourself, Lucy, and youâve got to do it now. A month, maybe more.â
âA month!â
My feet hit the cold wooden floor and the afghan dropped from around my shoulders. I stood there with the phone clutched to my ear, wearing nothing but a University of Wisconsin T-shirt, polka-dot underpants, and, Iâm sure, an expression of panic.
âMr. President-elect! Iâm . . . I donât understand. Sir, if youâre trying to tell me something or if youâre unhappy with . . .â
I stopped, took two big breaths, trying to slow the pounding in my chest.
âTom, are you firing me?â
âFiring you? No. Dammit, Lucy! Iâm trying to do you a favor!â
He huffed in exasperation. âI didnât want to have to say this, but you look like hell. Seriously, Luce. Veterans returning from combat zones look less worn-out than you did when I last saw you. You need to take some time off and get a rest, a real rest. You need to sleep late, breathe deep, go on some long walks, eat some decent mealsâsomething besides cookies and black coffeeâand spend some time thinking about your sister and what you really want to do with your life.â
What I wanted to do with my life? He was trying to fire me!
I plopped onto the edge of the bed, too shocked to speak. It felt like somebody had smashed a fist into my stomach.
âWhen you sent me out to the ranch that week,â he continued, âI spent a lot of time thinking about Mike and all the things he never had a chance to do. Life goes so fast, Lucy. You shouldnât waste it doing anything but the things that speak to your heart. While I was home, I started really thinking about why I got into the campaign. I came to realize that, at least partly, it was because I didnât want to disappoint you.â
âWhat?â Suddenly, I found my voice again. âPardon me, sir, but thatâs a stupid reason to run for president. Youâve got to want it for yourself!â
âCan I finish my story?â
âSorry,â I said, hearing the rebuke in his voice and remembering I was talking to the man who would soon have access to the nuclear launch codes. âGo on, sir.â
âOne day while I was out there, I saddled up Diamond and went for a long ride, thinking it all through, sorting out what I had to offer to the country and what I really wanted to do with what was left of my life. I was gone all day. It was dark by the time we got back to the barn, but when I did, I knew that I wanted to run for president. And I knew that I wanted to win.â
âAnd you did.â
â We did. I couldnât have done it without you, Lucy. Come January twentieth, our team needs to be rested and ready to govern because itâs going to be a grueling four years. Exciting, but grueling.â
âFour?â I asked, smiling as I bent down to pick up the afghan, then draping it over my shoulders again. âIâm counting on at least eight.â
âAll the more reason for you to take some time to decide if this is really how you want to spend the next eight years of your life. I donât want you signing up for this just because youâre afraid of disappointing me. No!â he barked, silencing my protests before I could even voice them. âDonât say anything now. Weâll discuss it in a month, after your vacation.â
âSir, I donât need a whole month. Maybe a week. Two at the most.â
âFour at the minimum, â he retorted, using the tone I recognized so well, the immovable âI carried fifty-one percent of the vote and you