of his jib.”
“Oh, really?” Caroline asked. “Are we going to go watch some Jimmy Cagney movies later? Maybe take some nautical lessons?”
“You don’t like my antiquated expressions?”
“Keep trying, buddy.”
“So we won’t be dancing the Charleston tonight?”
She smiled at him. The late night parties made these events tolerable. “Maybe. I was hoping for a sock hop, but we do have a crowd to entertain.”
“It’s been a while since a candid shot of us showed up on social media.”
The best and worst part of the convention. The trending. Caroline hadn’t forgotten what had been dubbed #ElevatorGate by several opportunistic Twitter pundits. “I’m thrilled that people are hashtagging us as we speak.”
Jack knew better than to dredge up old wounds. That footage still led many snarky articles and online posts about the two of them. One-note bloggers never forgot anything if they thought it would drive site hits. “Would you leave the door open for voting for Hendricks?”
It didn’t hurt to be honest. He was a moderate, her favorite kind of Republican. “I don’t know. I haven’t ruled it out.”
“Seriously?”
“I voted for you and Christine, didn’t I?”
Jack motioned her toward a conference room. There were two Secret Service agents outside, so Hendricks had to be hunkering down nearby. He leaned into her ear. “That’s what you say but, secret ballot and all.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Yes, I voted for your opponent. Because he was so qualified, likeable, and decent.”
“You don’t feel obligated to vote for the president?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t. I don’t owe him anything. I’ve never voted straight ticket.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Really?”
“I usually throw at least a Libertarian or Green in there just to shake it up a little, especially if I don’t know either major party candidate.”
“But you know the president.”
They weren’t close, but they weren’t unfriendly. She hadn’t forgotten her keynote address nor the man who selected her to give it. “Yes, I do.”
“He did present you with that nice shiny award.”
Which he had, a few months after the incident at the Capitol. Robert Allen had pushed pretty hard for Christine and Caroline to receive a Congressional Gold Medal, an act that garnered a decent amount of media attention. Caroline was convinced that was the only reason the president did anything to recognize them; he didn’t want to be outshone by the legislative branch. The two of them were also feted by a whole host of organizations she never knew existed. Almost three years after it happened, various groups were still asking her to provide motivational speeches, and she never had any idea of what to say. The accolades felt misplaced somehow.
“The president gave Chrissy a medal too,” Caroline said. “I don’t see her rushing to endorse him. She’s already appeared with Hendricks at least twice.”
“She’s never spoken ill of him, either.”
“She finds him weak on foreign policy. And on a few other issues that she will never mention in public.”
“What do you think?”
The president continued to struggle in the polls, and a post-convention bounce had never materialized. He had a dismal record, and spent most of his first four years caught up in a tug of war with Congress. “I’m more disappointed than anything else,” Caroline said. “I’m not all that awed with what he’s done so far. I think Hendricks will win.”
“Tell him that. He’d probably enjoy hearing it, coming from you.”
“You’ve talked me up that much?”
Jack kissed her forehead. “Your actions speak for themselves, sweetheart. Most of the governors I’ve met find you very impressive.”
“Personally or professionally?”
“Does it matter anymore? I think those lines have been blurred.”
Many of them seemed to have forgotten she’d ever been in Congress. Now she was just Jack’s wife, even if she had proven to be a quite engaging first lady. The perceived demotion didn’t necessarily bother her but it didn’t make her jump for joy, either. “Probably.”
Jack gave her a disreputable look. “What kind of job do you think the Governor of Pennsylvania is doing?”
Caroline kissed him. “Personally or professionally?”
“Either one.”
“Eh, he’s all right.”
He wrapped his arm around her before nodding at the Secret Service agents, who must have been expecting them. “Behave yourself while you’re in here.”
“Why, Mr. Governor,” she said. “I would never be anything but a lady while in the presence of genteel Republican men.”
He glanced around the hallway then patted her ass, mumbling an indecipherable phrase that probably couldn’t be repeated in polite company. She didn’t ask him to translate.
“The Secret Service could have seen that,” Caroline said.
“They won’t say anything. It’s