Page 28 of The Senator's Rival
Granted, the way it had happened wasn't entirely what she had envisioned. And in some ways, the victory didn't sit quite right. Margot was still in hiding, reeling from the shock of having her most private, firmly-kept secrets broadcast to the entire nation on every medium imaginable. Margot’s career had been destroyed, probably for good.
Still, somehow, whenever the women spoke, and especially when they managed to steal a moment together, Margot seemed oddly at peace with that. Disappointed, certainly, and a little confused about what came next. Occasionally angry and distraught, but still not entirely hopeless. There was an optimistic curiosity to her now, an eager, energetic fascination for exploring this newfound freedom. Margot laughed a lot, too. Genuinely and whole-heartedly, not in that charming, silvery, media-trained chuckle she had performed for most of her professional life.
The last thing Francesca had expected at the start of this election cycle was to find herself falling in love with Margot Smith, perhaps the most dangerous viper that Washington D.C. had ever seen. But that was exactly what had happened, and the woman she had discovered hidden beneath Margot's façade of chilly, ruthless ambition and calculated demeanor was utterly captivating.
It wasn't just an attraction, although that was undeniably strong. The two of them understood each other, so perhaps it wasn't all that surprising. After all, they had devoted their lives to achieving the same dream, had made sacrifices and had worked tirelessly to make it come true. And now that Margot had relinquished that dream for herself, she seemed entirely happy to dedicate herself instead to supporting Francesca's pursuit of it. In secret, at least for now. The last thing Margot needed was a new onslaught of derogatory headlines about her personal life. The public would figure that out in time, though. Once the dust cleared.
“Frankie!” Juliet exclaimed suddenly, breaking through Francesca's daydreaming and grabbing her arm, jolting her back to reality. “We've got Lockwood on the phone. He's ready to call it.”
“Yeah?” Francesca answered, trying to sound as excited about this news as the others surrounding her. She was thrilled too, of course, but her brain couldn't quite process the situation yet. It was like living in a strange fog—feeling numb and dulled to anything outside of her immediate reach. “All right. I'll take it in the conference room.”
She made her way out of the main hall where her team had set up base and headed into a smaller side room, closing the door behind her and picking up the receiver. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she lifted it to her ear. On the other end of the line, the clear, measured voice of James Lockwood sounded.
“Senator Thurston,” the older gentleman said calmly. “Congratulations are in order, I understand.”
“Thank you, sir,” Francesca replied evenly. “This has been an extraordinary campaign, and it's been an honor to have run alongside you these last few weeks.”
The ten minutes that followed were overly formal and polite, both careful with their choice of words to avoid giving away any sign of frustration on his part or smugness on hers. She had always imagined these concession calls to be terribly awkward for everyone involved, and now that she was in this position herself, her assumption appeared to have been accurate. The man was gracious and humble, however, and that helped to ground her.
This was, in some strange way, how politics should be. Two people who both believed in their causes and were willing to fight tooth and nail for them, but who also believed that the events leading up to the election happened in the best interests of their country, and they respected that understanding in each other. After all the dramatics of the last few months, good and bad, straightforward integrity felt comforting. Things were complicated now, and they would only be more so as Francesca pursued the most important, challenging job of her life. However, they didn't have to be that way. Somewhere inside the tangled mess, there was still room for respect and mutual understanding. Now it was Francesca’s job to try to bring that to the forefront.
Once the conversation concluded and the formalities had been completed, Francesca hung up and headed back to the larger space where her team were once more hopping frantically into action. They were calling the networks, preparing the stage downstairs to address the nation, and coordinating press releases, website updates, tweets, emails, and every other little piece necessary to manage such a monumental moment. And in forty-five minutes, Francesca would go down there and deliver her first speech as president-elect.
The realization hit her like an avalanche. A massive wave of exhilaration, panic, anticipation, doubt, excitement, terror, and giddy disbelief slammed into her chest all at once. Swaying slightly, Francesca stumbled back, leaning against a table behind her and placing a trembling hand on her heart. She sucked in a sharp breath, willing herself not to pass out from sheer incredulity. One minute she'd felt completely fine and now she was struggling just to stay upright. With another shuddering breath, Francesca sank into one of the nearby chairs and closed her eyes, taking several long, slow breaths to calm her racing heart. Good God. This was really happening.
A soft, tentative hand landed on her shoulder, shaking her out of her brief stupor. Francesca blinked her eyes open and turned toward the person beside her. Her eyebrows shot up, startled when she saw who it was. For a long moment, all Francesca could do was stare up in amazement at Margot, who was smiling at her with an affectionate grin while squeezing her shoulder. Countless pairs of eyes darted toward them curiously. Her siblings exchanged knowing looks, but everyone else seemed utterly perplexed.
“Senator,” Margot said with a coy smile, winking at her. “I wanted to come down here and offer my congratulations in person. After all, if not for me, you might not even be standing in this room right now. You're welcome.”
The playful southern drawl made Francesca laugh heartily. With that, the people around them seemed to relax, too, recognizing that their former adversary wasn't here to stir up some last-minute trouble. Smiling brightly at Margot, she reached out and grabbed the older woman’s right hand, shaking it vigorously as she stood up. Their eyes met, and a spark of electricity coursed between them. Honestly, Francesca was impressed that Margot had come here. She certainly hadn't wanted to when they spoke earlier today.
Now, though, Margot was staring at her with unabashed pride in her sky-blue eyes, impervious to anyone else's judgment. Coming down here after all the problems she'd caused and everything that had transpired over the last few months was an act of tremendous courage. The people around them might not recognize that right now, because they were still holding on to grudges and suspicions, but Francesca knew, and her admiration and affection for the woman in front of her surged even higher as a result.
“Hah. Thank you, I think,” Francesca replied lightly, “and thank you for one hell of a challenge, Ms. Smith. It certainly hasn't been dull.”
Margot returned her chuckle, grinning at her wickedly. “No, it certainly has not, Senator Thurston,” she acknowledged. “Now don't let me keep you, darlin'. You've got work to do.”
With one last lingering touch of her fingers against the back of Francesca's palm, Margot turned around and left as quickly as she had arrived, sweeping away gracefully. Leaving an air of mystery behind. Only the two of them knew that she was staying upstairs tonight in this very hotel, waiting for Francesca so they could celebrate her win privately. The former congresswoman had always loved theatrics, though. Couldn't resist one last opportunity to rile people up. Bless her heart.
“Uh, what the hell?” Juliet remarked from somewhere to Francesca's right, causing her to turn toward her friend again with a bemused expression. “Did that snake just waltz in here looking all buddy-buddy and cheerful? Seriously?”
“Don't worry about it, Jules,” Francesca replied, clapping the younger woman on the back. “I'll explain later. Right now, we have things to do and places to be. Let's go, guys. How are we on the speech?”
A loud cheer rose up again, filling the large, lavishly decorated event hall with energy, motivation, and a healthy dose of infectious optimism. There were already reports of huge celebrations breaking out across the country. Thousands of supporters gathered on every street corner, dancing, singing, cheering, and waving flags. Across social media, hashtags were trending nationwide, celebrating her win, expressing enthusiasm and excitement about a more progressive future.
In the coming days, these small victories would inevitably become overshadowed by all sorts of serious, complicated issues, but for now, they could bask in the glow of this enormous accomplishment. A bright and hopeful note to begin on.
The next thirty minutes were a chaotic whirlwind of rushing back and forth between rooms, shaking hands, taking calls, running through last-minute notes for the upcoming speech. As the minutes ticked by, Francesca found herself becoming more and more anxious. It had been a long time since she'd felt nervous about giving a speech. And this was what she did best, going out on a stage and delivering powerful, impassioned words intended to sway hearts and minds in her favor.
Tonight, though, it was different. As her friends, family, and employees surrounded her, gently steering Francesca toward her destination, she felt a rush of excitement. The whole world was watching. Millions of eyes glued to screens around the globe. Every news network would carry her remarks live, and every politician and leader would study them closely. At the end of the night, the result would be her legacy, an embodiment of everything she wanted to stand for and achieve. As of tonight, she was no longer an idealistic, ambitious Massachusetts senator. From now on, she was the future President of the United States.
This was it. This was everything Francesca had worked toward, everything she had lived and breathed and sacrificed for. It wasn't all up to her, of course, not by a long shot. But right now, as soon as she stepped out on that stage, her life—and the lives of millions of American citizens—would change forever. All she could do was hope that it would be for the better.
The curtains were pulled back. She held her breath. The crowd roared. This was Francesca’s moment. And with one last step forward, she claimed it.
EPILOGUE
MARGOT 3 YEARS LATER