The Hopefuls

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to picture us in Texas.”


“Really?” he asked.

“I mean, we might as well consider it, right?”

Matt let out a long breath. “Look. It’s a lot. I’m not even going to consider it unless you’re completely okay with it.”

“So what would you be?” I asked. “His campaign manager? His fund-raiser?”

“Both, really,” Matt said. “I’d probably be the only paid person on his staff, depending on how much he raises. He’s thinking—and I agree—that a small team is best.”

“Is it something you really want to do?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “But look—if I don’t do it, I’ll live. Honest. I don’t think Jimmy has a huge chance of winning, but you never know. It would be good experience. And it would be a reason to leave my job now. Which is probably the most appealing part.”

“You’re not stuck there,” I said. “You’ll get another job.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he said flatly. “But that’s not the only thing to consider. Let’s think about it for a few days.”

But I didn’t need a few days. We talked about it all that night, and the next morning I said, “I think you should do it.” Matt looked up at me surprised, and I continued. “You’ll never get to do something like this again. And it’s Jimmy.”

“Beth, are you sure? You really have to be sure. We’ll be living in Texas for almost a year. And I don’t want you to regret quitting your job.”

I thought back to the last pitch meeting we’d had, where after every story idea, Ellie had tilted her head and said, “But can you make it sexier?” I looked at Matt, and nodded my head. “I’m sure,” I said.



When I think back to why I said I’d go, part of me blames the night we spent with the Dillons after the fund-raiser. We’d had so much fun and Matt had seemed like himself again. He’d seemed happy. And I felt desperate to hold on to that, was willing to do anything to keep him that way. Even move to Texas.

When Matt called Jimmy to tell him he’d take the job, Jimmy let out a whoop and then said, “Wait, hold on.” He put the phone on speaker and repeated the news to Ash, who started screaming. “This is going to be the best,” she yelled.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out, obviously,” Matt said, “but we’ll start working on it right away.”

“Hold on,” Ash said, “we’re going to call you right back.”

A minute later, my phone rang with a FaceTime request, and when I answered, Ash and Jimmy were crowded in my screen. I held the phone so Matt could see them, and Ash said, “Look, we’ve been talking about this. And we really want you guys to come live with us.”

“We’re asking you to uproot your life,” Jimmy said, turning the phone so we saw more of his face. “And we have tons of room. There’s no sense in having you pay for a place when you could stay here.”

“Wow,” I said, and Matt said, “That’s so generous of you guys.”

I couldn’t get a read on Matt’s voice and I wanted to turn to him, but I was aware that Jimmy and Ash were watching us. I honestly didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, it would be so easy to move in with them—who wanted to search for an apartment and go through all of that? On the other hand, we’d be living with them, sleeping under the same roof every night.

“How about this?” Ash said. “You move in with us and try it and if you want to get your own place later on, that’s great.”

“We’ll definitely think about it,” I said. “That’s so nice of you guys.”

“It’s also nice of your husband to come and help out his poor friend,” Jimmy said. He took the phone out of Ash’s hand and held it so we saw only his face. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.” Then, Jimmy paused and smiled, looked us in the eye like he was already campaigning, and said, “We’ll take Texas together.”





Sugar Land, TX


2014





Every politician should have been born an orphan and remain a bachelor.


—LADY BIRD JOHNSON



It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.


—RONALD REAGAN





Chapter 14


We left for Texas on January 2, and so Babs insisted on having the whole family over for a New Year’s Day lunch. Even Meg, who’d been out late with friends the night before, was there, although she spent most of the afternoon lying on the couch, only sitting up once to ask, “So, is your apartment going to be, like, empty?” when she saw Matt giving a spare set of keys to his mom.

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