Page 90 of State of Grace (First Family 2)

“It was, but that was a long time ago now. It’s not as raw as it used to be before Scotty, Eli and the twins came into my life.” They walked to her car in frigid late-afternoon darkness. “Do you want me to take you to HQ or the Metro?”

“The Metro works. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to Ninth?”

“I’m sure. It’s no big deal. Just a quick errand.”

“Okay, but I’m happy to go with you if you want me to.”

Sam appreciated that he was offering, knowing how eager he always was to get home to his wife at the end of every long day. “I got it, but points to you for offering.”

“I’ll add them to my running tally of points earned on the job. I’m still waiting to hear how I can redeem them.”

“We’ll get back to you on that.” She pulled up to the curb outside the Farragut North Metro station. “Thanks for everything today.”

“You got it.”

“Hey, Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know how much I appreciate that we can still be us in the middle of the insanity swirling around me these days. It means so much to me to keep things normal with you.”

“We’ll always be us, regardless of how famous and important you become to everyone else.”

“Thank you.”

“If you need to talk after grief group, you know where to find me.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know! I tell you that every day!”

“Get out.”

“She gives and she takes away, all in the same minute.” He got out of the car and gave her a jaunty wave before he took off in a jog toward the train that would take him home to Woodley Park.

Sam loved him unreasonably. It occurred to her once again that she probably ought to not partner with him, because she’d protect him over herself in any situation. But she simply couldn’t imagine doing this horrible job without him riding shotgun and making her laugh all day. As she drove toward Capitol Hill, she told herself it was no big deal to be running home to Ninth Street for a few minutes. Because it wasn’t a big deal.

But as she pulled onto the street and drove past where the Secret Service checkpoint had been before they moved to the White House, she was struck by how deserted and forlorn the street seemed without all the activity that had surrounded them when Nick was vice president. The neighbors were probably singing hallelujah that they’d moved out and taken their three-ring circus with them.

As Sam pulled up outside the double townhouse she and Nick had called home, the sight of the ramp leading to their front door that Nick had built for her dad tugged at her heart. Outside, as she stood on the sidewalk, she glanced toward the ramp outside her father’s now-dark home and reflected on the massive changes that had occurred in her life since her father died in October. Everything was different now, and she couldn’t help but yearn for what had been just a short time ago.

She went up the ramp to her front door and realized it’d been more than a year since she’d had to use her key to get in. On many a night, she’d returned home to chaos inside this house, kids chasing each other around, screaming with delight as Nick stood watch over them. Tonight, she was greeted by silence and an odd echo as she walked through the first floor on her way upstairs to the third-floor storage room where the Christmas decorations were stored.

Passing Scotty’s abandoned room as well as the bedroom the twins had shared, she reflected on how a house was just a building without the people who made it a home. In just a few short weeks, this place no longer felt like home, because the people who made it one lived elsewhere now. She found the ornaments right where she’d thought they’d be and brought the box downstairs. In the kitchen, she eyed the table where they’d had so many meals and conversations and mornings with the kids.

Sam saw Shelby bustling around the kitchen with her son, Noah, strapped to her chest and yearned for the simplicity of only a few weeks ago. She poured a glass of ice water from the fridge and sat at the table, which already bore a faint layer of dust on its surface. She used her fingertip to draw a heart in the dust.

This was where she belonged, on Ninth Street in the heart of the Capitol Hill neighborhood where she’d grown up in a modest, middle-class family. As much as she respected the historical significance of the White House, living in the midst of opulence and being ma’am’d nonstop by butlers and other household staff would never feel normal to her.

She had no idea how long she sat in the kitchen, wallowing in the familiar before she had to return to the new normal. The ringer on the BlackBerry startled her out of her thoughts. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Nick said. “Where are you?”

“At Ninth Street, actually.”

“What’re you doing there?”

“I came to get some of our ornaments for the tree in the residence.”

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