I’ve been wanting to do something important on my own, out of my parents’ shadows. The rest of the day I focus on busywork, but when I head home to my apartment, I sit on the couch, my precious cat Doodles perched on my lap, and I wonder why I declined the offer. When he is out of view, I sag in my seat, stunned. We shake hands, and I watch the man depart as elegantly and soundlessly as he came in. “In case there’s anything we can do for you.” I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.” And yet here I am, first thing in the morning.” He looks at me as if wondering what I did to deserve this and I don’t like his possible assumptions. Most of our recruits have experience, something which you have nothing of. “He told me you were the first in line to help and he’d hate to refuse his first offer.” If seeing Matt’s campaign manager in my office wasn’t shock enough, this certainly is. He wants to formally extend you an invitation to join his campaign.” My heart skips, regardless of me wanting it to or not. “Unfortunately we didn’t get the chance to be introduced last night. “Benton Carlisle …” He extends his hand, which I promptly shake. I recognize his face, but I can’t pinpoint where I know him from. Good morning.” He speaks with the familiarity of old friends.

I’ve just gotten off a phone call when a tall man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair appears at my office door and knocks. I help run the organization and my days are usually a combination of fundraising, job hunting, and supportive talks with the women we take under our wing. I’ve been working with my mother since I was eighteen, winging both my studies in Georgetown and social service hours here. I’m still thinking about the previous evening as I head to Women of the World. That night is not the first time in the past eleven years that I dream about Matt Hamilton again, but it’s the first one where the guy in the dream looks exactly like he did tonight. “Mom,” I groan, shaking my head with a chiding frown, then wave her off and shut the door behind me. But the Democrats and the Republicans won’t let go of the presidency that easily,” my mother says, and I press my lips together.Īs I start to get out of the car, my mother says, “Charlotte, you know how much I hate you living alone here …” “Well, his announcement caused quite a stir. Which is silly, really, but don’t you want a strong president? You want someone who can keep his head in a crisis, someone confident, and someone real. Sitting there talking with him, I sensed a genuine quality in him and a strength that makes you want to cling to it. The wanting for him to win suddenly hits me with so much force, it almost overwhelms me.

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