A Fighting Chance

After I left the agency, people in the media all asked a version of the same question: What would I do next? I told everyone the same thing: We’re taking a trip to Legoland.

And that’s exactly what we did. Bruce and I flew out to California, where we gathered a herd of nieces, nephews, kids, and grandkids—we were more than a dozen in all—and traipsed across Legoland, Disneyland, and the Los Angeles beaches. I proved yet again that I can get lost anywhere, including the kiddie boat ride at Legoland, where I somehow managed to get my putt-putt boat turned completely backward. My passenger, Lavinia, and I got rammed repeatedly by a dozen other boaters—and I was severely warned about bad boating from the skinny teenager running the ride. All I can say is, steering a boat at Legoland is trickier than it looks.

The break was comforting and peaceful—at least as peaceful as anything involving a mob of rowdy children can be. But I still woke up in the night thinking about the agency. I was worried: Rich’s nomination was already stalled in the Senate and the Republicans were on the attack, demanding again that the CFPB be weakened. Without a confirmed director, the agency would not be granted its full powers. And no one knew if the Republicans in the Senate would ever allow a vote or if the president would ever make a recess appointment.

I was worried, but that’s not the same as being afraid. I knew the agency itself was on strong footing. Just before I’d left, we had endured a top-to-bottom inspection by the inspectors general. (The very title inspector general made me want to check to make sure my fingernails were clean and my shoes were shined.) We had received a glowing review for all our administrative organization and execution—we’d set up the agency without a hitch. And now the agency’s real work was under way. In the next two years alone, Rich would recover nearly $500 million that the banks had fraudulently charged their customers. Holly would help save lots of homes for service members deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq. By June 2013, more than 175,000 people would turn to the consumer hotline for help.

We were starting to prove our case to more and more Americans: This consumer agency was worth fighting for. And every day the agency did some good, that fight would get easier—or so I fervently hoped.

Did David or Goliath win? The fight wasn’t over. Even so, I’d give this round to David.

But my role was over. It was time to hand this slingshot to someone else.





6 | The Battle for the Senate

HOME AT LAST. It was August 2011. We unpacked from Legoland and went to the Summer Shack for fried clams and beer. Bruce mowed the lawn and I attacked the overgrown holly bushes and maimed a couple of evergreens. The new school year would start soon: I got out my books and posted the reading assignment for the first class.

But life wasn’t quiet. Speculation was at high pitch about whether I might run for the Senate. The very popular Scott Brown had been in office for only a year and a half, but in November 2012 the seat that had been held for decades by Ted Kennedy would be up for grabs again. The press and online media were quick to offer opinions: She should run! She shouldn’t run! Plenty of people called the house, e-mailed advice, or stopped me on the street: Buy new glasses! Change your hair! Get married! (Whoa—again? I was pretty crazy about my current husband.)

I’d been back from California for a week or so when I got a call from a local Democratic Party official. He introduced himself, then said he was calling to urge me to get in the race. “Get your name out there,” he said enthusiastically. “Stir things up!” After offering a few more thoughts about why I should run, he paused, as if suddenly remembering that he was speaking to a stranger about the strange land of politics. “Of course, I don’t think you’ll win. But don’t take it personally—I don’t think anyone can beat Scott Brown.”

Run and lose. Gee, that sounded like fun. Maybe I’d do that right after I deliberately slammed my fingers in a car door.