Page 133 of State of Affairs (First Family 1)

“You’re going to need more help with them than I can provide if I’m the social secretary.”

“I know, and I already have a plan.”

“What’s that?”

“Celia.”

“Oh, yes. That’s brilliant.”

“I’m going to pop in to see her before I go back to work. Fingers crossed she’ll want to do it.”

“She will. She told me she’s spinning her wheels alone in the house without Skip. She’ll jump at the chance to shake things up.”

“I hope so. Be right back.” Since the day was getting away from her, Sam rushed through a shower and changed her clothes, bringing the soiled ones to the washer downstairs as directed by Tinker Bell. Thankfully, the moving team hadn’t gotten to the second floor yet. After starting the wash, she found Shelby in the kitchen.

“Don’t let them pack our beds and stuff. We need them for two more nights.”

“I’ve got you covered. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks for everything, Tink. We love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam left the house and signaled to Vernon that she needed a minute at her stepmother’s home. She went up the ramp they no longer needed and gave a short knock on the door before she poked her head into Celia’s house. That the house was no longer her dad’s made her ache for him, as did walking into the familiar space he used to occupy. The pain of his loss was as fresh today as it had been the day of his sudden death.

“Celia? Are you home?”

“Up here, honey.”

Sam followed the sound of her stepmother’s voice to the second floor and found her in the room that’d been Skip’s before he was shot. “What’s up?” Sam asked, surprised to see piles of clothes on the bed and cardboard boxes on the floor.

“I’m starting to pack up your dad’s clothes. He’d want me to donate them so someone can use them. I put a few things aside for you girls and the grandchildren.” She gestured to a stack of shirts and sweatshirts. “Things I thought you might want.”

“You… You don’t have to do this by yourself, Celia.”

“I don’t mind. It gives me something to do. Your dad hated waste, and he’d want his things to go to someone in need.”

“Yes, he would.” Sam could barely swallow over the enormous lump that settled in her throat. “I can still catch a faint hint of the Polo cologne he used to wear.”

“Me too. When we were first together, I had to tell him that half as much as he normally wore would do just fine.”

Sam laughed and swiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. “We tried to tell him that for years.”

“Thankfully, he listened to me, so I could continue to date him.”

“We’re all thankful for that.”

“I miss him so much.”

“I do too,” Sam said, “especially this week. He’d be losing his shit over Nick becoming president.”

“He would! He’d want to be the first to visit you at the White House.”

“I’m so sad he can’t be part of it.”

“He’s part of it, honey. I like to think he’s close by, enjoying his new freedom from the limitations of his injury and hosting ragers in heaven for all his friends and family while keeping an eye on the goings-on around here.”

“Is he dancing in this vision you have?”

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