I shrug at the old taunt. It never bothered me as a kid but Mom gasps.
“Stella Louise Woodley! You apologize thisinstant!” She even stomps her good foot for emphasis.
I clamp my lips together to keep from bursting out laughing as Stella goes red in the face. “You cannotbe serious, Mom!”
“I most certainly am, young lady!”
Dad looks exhausted, aged. “Apologize, Stella.Now. Your brother is our president. Show a little respect. We raised you better than that.”
I haven’t heard that stern tone from him since we were kids, and even then rarely.
And usually directed at me because of some bullshit Stella did to set me up.
The guilt flashing across Stella’s face fills me with satisfaction even as she shoots me a darker glare. “Sorry,MisterPresident.”
Yeah, I caught her sarcasm.
Today was worth the aggravation of putting up with her just for this small victory. “Thank you.”
Belatedly, I wonder if I can warp Dad’s words in my mind into allowing me to believe he’s really proud of me and respects me despite him never saying those exact wordstome.
Mom jumps in to deflate the thickening tension. “Elliot, sweetie, show us around up here first, and then take us to see your office.”
“Of course, Mom.” With Jordan and my agents trailing us, and Mom holding on to my arm, I show them around the executive residence before we head downstairs. When we reach the West Wing I take them the long way around to show them my old office first, along with my new private study and dining area, before we reach the Oval Office.
This is the first time I’ve set foot in here as its official resident and it’s still daunting despite how many times I’ve crossed the threshold in the past. We walk in and even Stella’s gaze widens as she looks around. The official photographer joins us for a few minutes to take some “candid” photos of our family.
Stella is obviously mugging for the camera and I don’t even care. I can see that, in this moment, even my father looks somewhat impressed.
Could this finally be it?
I walk behind the desk and pull the chair out. “Come sit here, Dad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I let him, then Mom—and yes, even Stella—sit behind my desk and have their pictures taken.
I wish Leo was here. He deserves to be included in this moment.
He deserves to be officially recognized as part of my family. So does Jordan, even though I know he would freak out if I tried to publicly add him to our permutation before my time in office ends.
We’ve worked too hard and sacrificed too much to blow it all now. I understand that.
Doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about more.
It is not lost on me that the power is in my hands to make the next step happen whenever I want.
We return to the executive residence for an early dinner and more family pictures. Fortunately, that’s when Stella takes off because she needs to get her hair and makeup done ahead of the balls. I only wrangled her tickets to the first three balls to shut her the hell up.
Her departure also provides me time alone with Mom and Dad.
“I hope you don’t mind we don’t want to stay in Washington any longer than tomorrow morning,” Mom says after Stella leaves. “It’s nothing personal, honey.”
“We have a lot of work to get back to,” Dad adds. “Ben Smith is watching the farm for us but we can’t ask him to do that forever. We’ve taken off enough time.”
Somehow, I resist the urge to argue with him that he needs to think about selling and retiring.
Because he never will.
