Nicole Wallace, MSNBC Strategist Presents an Exciting, Extraordinary Trilogy! Honing in on Characters... Eighteen Acres, Madam President, It's Classified!

 

It's been awhile since I read this funny, ironic and simply unbelievable set of stories... Yet, it is now when it seems the best time to talk about these books... You see, the books, which are clearly character driven, spotlights women in politics... A female president, for instance... She's in office as the trilogy begins... And, it is quite possible that a female president will be elected later this year. Will she have the same stamina and guts as the female president in this book? I enjoy watching Nicole Wallach's news program and was not surprised that she had a much-needed handle on the entire political process to be able to craft a realistic setting...

Melanie

Call me Charlotte—I insist,” she’d said. She was smart and funny and self-deprecating. She’d seemed to have been handed a briefing paper so detailed about Melanie’s career that Melanie wondered if the FBI had been involved. After some small talk about the current unusually cold temperatures for Washington, Charlotte had told Melanie that she’d seen her on the Today show years earlier and that she had admired and tried to emulate her cheerful toughness in her own television appearances. She’d praised Melanie’s decision to have the president do weekly press conferences in media markets around the country instead of from the White House. She’d said she agreed with the outgoing president’s decision not to campaign on her behalf because of the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which she must have known had been Melanie’s advice to the president. Melanie’s defenses had been down. She was feeling more and more flattered by the minute. And the idea of being the highest-ranking staff person for the first female president in America’s history did capture her imagination. Despite the fact that in the recesses of her mind, she understood that it was all part of an elaborate scheme to entice her, she’d said yes on the spot to serving as chief of staff to the nation’s forty-fifth president. That was three years ago. Melanie fingered the smooth gold chain around her neck and stared at the reflection that the diamonds made on the wall of the Oval Office. “If you’re still in there, Melanie, you’re welcome,” the president said, waving her hand in front of Melanie’s face. “I’ll see you tonight. We need to talk about the campaign. I’m sorry I’m missing your party, but at least I’m taking Ralph off your hands.” “Party? What party?” Melanie groaned. “I told them you’d hate it, but as usual, nobody listened to me. Act surprised. Sam and Annie have been working on it for weeks.” The president turned back to her desk. “Sam, please tell the speechwriters to get on the helicopter. We have to write a new speech.” Melanie turned to leave and smiled sympathetically at the speechwriters who were huddled in front of Samantha’s desk. “Good luck, guys,” Melanie said. “I’ll throw Ralph under the bus later. She’s just being melodramatic. Roll with it.” Melanie endured the senior staff singing “Happy Birthday” to her at their seven-thirty meeting. She took calls from most of the Cabinet members, wishing her a happy birthday and from many of the reporters she’d known from her eight years as press secretary for the previous president. Her parents sent a dozen white roses mixed with white tulips, her favorite flowers. But nothing could have prepared her for her own reaction to the slide show that the White House staff assembled to pay tribute to her fifteen years of service. Thank God the lights were dimmed and the music blaring. Against a soundtrack of depressing spinster ballads from Natalie Merchant and Tori Amos, the images flooded the room. There she was at twenty-three—in the group photo of all the White House interns—smiling and oblivious to the three chins she’d had in those days. President Phil Harlow was the first president Melanie had worked for. She’d lied about being a student to get the internship, since the White House intern program was only available to college students earning credit for their free labor. When a spot opened up for a junior press aide, she’d confessed about graduating the year before, and they’d given her the job. She spent nearly three years in the same cramped fourth-floor office in the Old Executive Office Building, across the driveway from the West Wing. The next images were from her days as a campaign aide to President Harlow’s nephew, Christopher Martin. He’d surprised everyone when he announced a run for the presidential nomination during President Harlow’s last year in office. Melanie had signed on as his campaign press secretary. Everyone was shocked when he won the nomination and, eventually, the presidency. President Martin made Melanie his first press secretary, and at twenty-six, she’d been the youngest White House press secretary in history. The pictures of Melanie as President Martin’s press secretary made her cringe. Fortunately, her clothes, hair, and figure improved with age. There were pictures of her sleeping with her mouth wide open on Air Force One, plenty of shots of her fielding questions from the podium in the White House briefing room, and images she recognized as having been Photoshopped to remove all evidence of Matthew, her husband for a brief period during the Martin administration. Photos of Melanie as Charlotte’s chief of staff made up the last and longest part of the slide show. She’d been around the photographers so long that she didn’t notice them anymore, but there she was: speaking to Charlotte as they walked across the South Lawn to board Marine One, being summoned by Charlotte as she stepped off Air Force One, whispering in her ear in meetings with foreign leaders, hiking with her at Camp David with the dogs, and laughing with her in the Oval Office over one of their many inside jokes. Melanie stood and applauded when the slide show finally came to an end. “Thank you so much. It has been the privilege of a lifetime to serve this president alongside all of you. Thank you for this great surprise. I don’t know what to say, other than thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She stayed and thanked everyone for coming and asked the stewards to bring the leftover cake to the residence. She and Charlotte would eat it for dessert. Fifteen years, three presidents, and seven executive assistants later, Melanie thought to herself as she walked back to her office. “And all I’ve done is move forty feet.” Around eight P.M., Melanie heard the sound of Marine One as it neared the South Lawn. She loaded her BlackBerrys and phones into her purse and walked down the hall toward the residence where she and Charlotte would have dinner. Charlotte had been bugging her for an answer about running her reelection campaign for weeks. As the chopper came closer, her mind flashed back to her first ride on Marine One. It fell on her twenty-sixth birthday, and she had been nervous and excited about joining the elite group of top staffers who rode on the presidential helicopter instead of driving the short distance to Andrews Air Force Base. They’d been traveling to Detroit that day to talk about the economy, and President Martin’s poll numbers were almost as battered as Charlotte’s. More than a decade later, Melanie still remembered how her stomach had churned and the sweat from her underarms had soaked her blouse that day. She had heard the sound of the helicopter as it neared the South Lawn, and she’d raced down the hall to the Oval Office. President Martin had looked at her, clearly enjoying her anticipation. “You ready?” he’d asked. “I’m ready,” she’d said with a grin. He’d flung his arm around her and walked out to the South Lawn, where the helicopter was parked. He’d waved to the cameras and the crowds and mouthed “Thank you” to the friends and staffers who had gathered to see him off. Melanie had walked on her toes to keep her heels from getting stuck in the muddy grass, but it wasn’t enough. She lost one of her Stuart Weitzman pumps in the mud and was too afraid to stop and pick it up with the cameras rolling. She’d boarded Marine One and taken a seat across from the president. “You sit here—you won’t bump into me the way these thugs would,” President Martin had ordered, referring to the male staffers who would bump into his knees if they sat in the seat across from him. “Yes, sir,” Melanie had agreed as she sat across from the president and peered out the window of the helicopter. Melanie had no idea what to do about her shoe. She hoped that no one would notice. She’d send someone to buy her a new pair in Detroit. Ernie Upshaw, President Martin’s deputy chief of staff, noticed her bare muddy foot first. “Where is your shoe, Melanie?” he’d asked. “Uh, it fell off.” “Where?” the president had asked. “Somewhere between the Oval Office and the helicopter,” she’d admitted, her cheeks and neck turning hot. The president had howled with laughter and sent Buckey, his personal aide, out to find her missing shoe. The shoe was wedged so deep in the mud that it took Buckey about five minutes to find it. The helicopter pilots had eventually powered down Marine One, and all three of the cable news networks had carried the shoe hunt live. Melanie’s BlackBerry had filled with new messages. Her assistant: “They aren’t looking for your shoe, are they?” Her mother: “All the news stations are calling you Cinderella. Why didn’t you wear flats?” The White House chief of staff: “Way to go—the president will be late, but you will have your shoes.” He is such a jerk, Melanie had thought.  Buckley had finally returned to Marine One with Melanie’s muddy black pump in his hand. The president thought the whole episode was hilarious. As they lifted off from the South Lawn of the White House and flew over the Washington Mall, Melanie had felt as if she’d been transported to a different world. The Tidal Basin glistened in the morning sun, and the Washington Monument jutted out of the ground. The flags that surrounded it flapped in the wind below her window, and the tops of the buildings on the mall looked like doll houses. “It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” the president had said. “Amazing,” Melanie had replied, not moving her eyes from the sights below. “How could that have been eleven years ago?” Melanie thought, not realizing she’d muttered to herself until one of Charlotte’s agents spoke to her. “Ms. Kingston, is everything all right?” “I’m sorry; I’m fine. Losing it, perhaps, but fine. Is she upstairs yet?” “Yes. She said to tell you to come on in.” Melanie walked past the table...

~~~

But, first, I was saddened by Joe Biden's decision to not continue to run for 2024. I believe he would have and frankly, if his own party members had not turned against him. I am wondering about the democratic party for the future. Of course, I have found that I would never vote republican based upon all that I have discovered from political-related books. So, we now have a woman who, in essence, is beginning her candidacy for the president, with such a short time to gain the required support needed... Joe Biden had said that only the Lord All Mighty could stop his running. I believe that Joe did hear His guidance. I know it was a hard decision and I am so proud of President Biden for putting our country first...

Eighteen Acres gave me new information in that it is exactly Eighteen acres of land upon which the White House is located. The books are written from the POV that changes constantly as the story moves forward. Charlotte is the president and is a rich blend of smarts, guts and, sometimes, coldness... Toward her husband. Melanie has taken the Chief of Staff position. They are a well-tuned thinking machine that almost speaks on behalf of the other... But, Melanie is a better writer and Charlotte has come to depend upon her to guide her through those difficult times when she's not quite sure what to say... Melanie then takes over with the speechwriters and succeeds quickly to meet the needs of the president... 

Charlotte has a good reputation and so when she decided to run again, her campaign seemed to be a piece of cake...until two issues exploded across the nation. It was reported that Charlotte's husband was having an affair... And, at the same time, her closest security adviser made a tragie error in judgment. Charlotte had to ask him to leave his position...

So, how does a president and her campaign staff save her from failing?

What happens next could never have been predicted even in a great mystery book...

Charlotte decided to make another first in history... When her VP decided it was his time to step down, he recommended that she work to make a splash... She hired the first female VP! Tara is almost the opposite from Charlotte. She dresses sexy, talks quickly and often and becomes the most popular person in this administration... Melanie had already explained to Charlotte that she would not continue as Chief of Staff and planned to retire. But Charlotte offered Melanie a job she could not refuse! She became, probably the first, Secretary of Defense! And the troops loved her as she spent time traveling and meeting with our soldiers who were stationed overseas... At the same time, Charlotte was still not sure she could live down the loss of her senior advisor who committed suicide!

“Just tell me when your go time is and I’ll have her down here,” he said. “I guess five A.M., so we aren’t too rushed. Is that too early?” “No, of course not. She can do this, you know. I mean, she just needs to get through this adjustment period and she’ll be fine,” he said. It was the first nice thing he’d said about his wife all evening. “I think she’s doing just fine now,” Dale said. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Tara asked, appearing suddenly in black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. She was wearing socks but no shoes and Dale hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. She wondered how long Tara had been listening. “How you are going to knock these interviews out of the park tomorrow, baby,” Marcus said with a phony smile. Tara walked to his side and said something Dale couldn’t hear. He nodded and said, “I’ve got it. You get back to your prep. You need it.” Before he left the room, he grabbed a roll of fat from around Tara’s stomach. “After we conquer the morning shows, we’re going to focus on this,” he said, looking at Dale while he spoke. Tara looked mortified, and Dale could hardly keep the horror off her face. She couldn’t decide which one of them was more shocking: Marcus for being so mean, or Tara for standing there and enduring his abuse. Dale felt like hurling her empty coffee cup at him. “Dale here doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her, do you, Dale?” Dale looked at Tara sympathetically and tried to think of something funny to say to deflect Marcus’s verbal assault. “I have a mouth full of cavities and stringy brown hair. I’d kill for your wife’s perfect teeth and gorgeous head of hair.” Tara smiled gratefully and Marcus let go of her. Dale continued. “Mr. Meyers, while we are honored by your company, we have a lot of work to do tonight before we can all go to bed,” Dale said. “No problem. It’s time for me to spin off a cool thousand calories. The music doesn’t bother you does it? Helps distract me from the pain.” “No,” Dale said. Her eyes were on Tara as he made his way down the stairs in his spinning shoes. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dale heard him turn up the volume on the stereo. Eminen started blaring from the lower level. Tara looked like she might cry. Dale wanted to tell her to ignore the asshole she was married to, but she knew better than to insert herself. Tara had taken a seat on the same sofa where she’d been sitting before. She looked like she was trying to pull herself together. “I have an idea,” Dale said. Tara looked up. “Shoot the prick?” Tara said, with such a straight face that Dale was too stunned to say anything. She laughed. “Insanity defense,” Tara added with a sly smile. Dale laughed it off but filed it away in her I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life file. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” “I know what it must look like.” Tara sighed. Dale waited for her to continue. 

When she didn’t, Dale spoke. “Madam Vice President, the American people are trying to figure you out. People are mostly interested in you because you seem too normal for politics. That makes you more intriguing and appealing, in a lot of ways, than President Kramer,” Dale said. Tara contemplated this. “That’s why I tried to work some of your struggles—with weight, with motherhood, with work—into the answers. I think that’s how we dig out of this little hole we got you into. Let the American people inside the struggles and maybe they’ll help pull you out.” Dale was trying to sound reassuring. She didn’t like what the meat grinder was doing to Tara. She prayed that the vice president would regain some of the grit she’d displayed during the campaign. “Can I tell you something?” Tara asked. “Sure.” Dale thought for a second that she’d confide in her about whatever was going on. “I am such a huge fan of Caroline Carter. I’ve watched Wake Up, America since I was in college and I feel like I know her, you know? You must think I am so lame. I mean, you know all these people.” “I don’t want to shatter your image of her, but Caroline is dumber than my shoes,” Dale said. Tara looked crushed. Then she started to laugh. “Take that back, Dale. I won’t let you take away all my heroes.” Dale laughed and breathed a sigh of relief that Tara’s sense of humor had returned. “How about another round with the index cards? No theatrics. We will just go through all of the questions and answers until you’re comfortable with the content?” Dale asked. “Let’s do it,” Tara replied.

~~~

And everybody was shocked when Tara had hired her own news rep without talking about it to anybody--Dale was the woman with whom Charlotte's husband had had an affair... Wow... Can it get worse? Yes, it can... For one, when Dale took the job in the White House, rather than accepting the home which had just been bought for her, the relationship with Charlotte's ex-husband got cooler and cooler... Dale had been working with Tara to handle meetings... But when Tara was left to hold down the fort and went AWOL too many days without explanation and when she showed up, she was not, shall we say, able and ready to do her job? Something had to be done... Secrets, Secrets, Secrets... Politics is full of them!

Family life for Charlotte was, really--well, it sucked, mostly. Peter had been involved with Dana for years and even Charlotte knew it before it exploded... But, what really bothered her was her daughter's response to her and then her actions...

Peter was about to say something when Brooke and Mark barged into the Oval Office. Sam followed close behind and tried to redirect them into the Cabinet Room next door. “It’s fine,” Charlotte assured Sam. Brooke and Mark wouldn’t have stayed out even if she’d asked them to. “Char, it’s not that bad,” Brooke offered. “You saw it?” “It’s on the Internet,” Mark confirmed. “Anyone who has ever had a teenage daughter will totally sympathize with you,” Brooke added. Charlotte smiled ruefully at her friends and recognized that their arrival had guaranteed that the simmering tensions between her and Peter would have to be addressed another time. “Sam?” she called. “Yes, ma’am?” “Please ask Craig, Dale, and Marguerite to come back in here.” They appeared instantly, and Charlotte wondered if they’d heard everything that had transpired. “Madam President?” “Craig, I think we should be as blasé as possible about Penny’s statement. Say that she’s a young adult with her own opinions about politics and policy and everything else. Maybe we wrap it into a larger statement about just how difficult it is to be the child of a president. We could touch on the fact that the debate around reproductive rights can divide, and sometimes unite, families. Have the press office say something about how I appreciate Penny’s feelings about this issue and the other issues she raised on Facebook.” Dale and Craig looked at each other. “What’s wrong? That covers everything, doesn’t it?” Charlotte asked. “Madam President, the first thing the press is going to want to know is whether you’ve spoken to Penny,” Dale said. “Oh. Right.” She glared at Peter. “We’ll call her now,” he said. “I need to do this alone,” Charlotte told him. She walked into her private dining room. The call went straight to voice mail, and Charlotte dialed again. This time, Penny picked up. “Dad?” “It’s your mom,” Charlotte said calmly. “Before you say anything, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought the Secret Service would keep my page private. I didn’t think that anyone other than my friends would see it.” Charlotte resisted the temptation to scold her for blaming the Secret Service. It was something a ten-year-old would say, not a college student. “Are you ready for the media attention that’s about to come your way?” “What? No. That’s not why I did it!” “Well, you should turn on MSNBC or CNN in a few minutes, because it will be all over the news. You will be the big story today.” “That’s not what I wanted.” “Really?” “No!” She sounded panicked, and Charlotte was starting to feel sorry for her. She rubbed her forehead and listened to Penny’s pathetic excuses as her mind played through all the instances in which she’d ignored her responsibilities to the twins to do one more thing at the office. She felt a hundred years old all of a sudden. “Listen, Penny, the press will move on to something else by tomorrow so let’s not lose perspective.” “I’m really sorry, Mom.” “I am, too, for whatever I did to deserve this.” “It’s been building up,” Penny confessed. “Obviously.” They were both quiet for a moment, and it sounded like Penny had started to cry. Charlotte felt herself soften a bit. “Do me a favor, and stay off Facebook today.” “I will.” Charlotte felt her heart twist into a different shape inside her chest. She desperately wanted to rewind the last ten years and get a do-over with Penny. Charlotte would change everything. She’d be there each day when Penny got home from school to hear about her day. She’d be the mom who drove the carpools so she could listen to Penny and her friends talk. She’d be the mom who took all of the kids skiing or to the beach. She’d be the mom who all the other kids knew they could talk to. She wondered which mom had been there for her daughter when she wasn’t. Despite her anger at Penny for taking her hostilities public, she felt a dam break inside her chest. “Mom?” “I’m here.” “Don’t blame Dad. He asked me not to write anything.” “I know.” “It’s not his fault.” “I’m not mad at Dad. I’m still mad at you.” “I’m really sorry,” Penny said. “You’re not a little kid anymore. You can’t just say sorry and move on.” “What do you want me to do?” “For starters, a lot of reporters are going to write stories about what you wrote, and they are going to want to talk to you about it. They will find your e-mail address, and they will figure out how to reach you through your friends. Some might even show up at Google or outside your apartment. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk to any of them.” “I won’t.” “I’m going to have someone from the press office call you in a few minutes. I’d like for you to do exactly what they tell you to do.” As she uttered the words, Charlotte realized that Penny must have suspected that it was possible her post would receive attention from the press. Most likely, it was also why she’d overheard Peter explaining to Penny earlier that morning that Dale’s e-mail address was the same as it had been. It made Charlotte wonder: Had Dale had an e-mail relationship with her daughter while she’d been romantically involved with Peter?” The thought had never entered her mind, but upon reflection, it was possible. Charlotte felt nauseated by the thought, but she did her best to sound the perfect combination of disappointed and forgiving as she hung up with Penny. Even though she was already late for her speech, she allowed herself to wallow for an extra moment about the fact that Penny had become so distant. She wondered exactly when and how it had happened. Charlotte was racked with guilt about the huge chunks of her children’s lives that she’d missed. Where had all the years gone? It felt like just yesterday that she’d brought the twins home from the hospital. They’d been so tiny, but even as a newborn, Penny had demanded so much of Charlotte’s attention. She would use her teeny fingers to grab onto Charlotte’s hand, and she’d cry whenever Charlotte put her down to take care of Harry. Penny did everything before Harry. She walked first. She talked first. She was the first to join in with other kids at the playground. Harry liked to watch his sister. He watched Penelope walk around their small Pacific Heights apartment for weeks before he took his first steps. And he let her do all of his talking for months before he opened his mouth to say “Mama.” Where in God’s name had eighteen and a half years gone? Charlotte wondered. She was already late for her speech at the Women’s Museum, but she wanted to make one more call. She dialed Harry’s cell phone. He was probably still asleep. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Hi, Mom,” he said groggily. “Can you call your sister today?” “What did she do?” “Go online when you wake up.” “OK.” He yawned. “I’m going to be out there in a few weeks. We’ll have lots of time to visit, if you can make time for your boring old mom.” “Of course.” “Go back to sleep. I love you.” “You, too.” He was still sweet. He didn’t get straight As like his sister, and he didn’t do a dozen extracurricular activities like Penny did, but everyone loved him. Charlotte retouched her lipstick and smoothed her hair with her fingers before she returned to the Oval Office. Peter was sitting on the sofa with Brooke and Mark, and Craig, Dale, and Marguerite were huddled near her desk. “How’d it go?” Peter asked. “Fine.” She didn’t want to rehash the conversation in front of her staff. “Dale, you can tell the press that Penny and I spoke and everything is fine. We plan to spend some time talking politics when I visit later this month. I also spoke to Harry.” Dale was scribbling furiously in her notepad. “Do you want us to address whether she intended for the post to be made public?” Dale asked. Charlotte thought for a moment. Penny had said that she intended the post for her friends, but certainly, she must have known that it would get out. “You’d better not,” Charlotte said. “Madam President, would it be all right with you if we touched base with her to make sure that she and her friends know how to send every inquiry from the press to us, no matter where it comes from?” Craig asked. “Yes. I told her to expect a call from the press office. Peter, maybe you can hold her hand through the process?” Charlotte asked. “Sure,” he said. “Mr. Kramer, we’ll need you to make clear to her that she needs to be highly suspicious of every e-mail, text, and Facebook message she gets today. The press will be relentless in their efforts to engage her. Perhaps Dale can jump on the line for a quick second just to assure her that the press office is here to field all of the calls on this today,” Craig suggested. Peter nodded and looked at Charlotte. “That’s fine,” she said. “Madam President, Marguerite and I will come with you to the speech. We should leave as soon as possible,” Craig said. “I’m ready.” Sam handed Charlotte a fresh copy of her speech, and a Secret Service agent held the door open. Brooke and Mark headed straight to the president’s limo, affectionately called the Beast, for its size and weight.

~~~ 

When I started reading the first book, my mind went back to the excellent show, that I loved, "Madam Secretary." I so enjoyed watching a woman have a significant post in our Government... And, to a great extent, the character that played the Secretary of State had a personality much like Charlotte, our President of this Trilogy. A president, no matter what sex, has a life outside of the position... Yet, it doesn't. Both must be considered. Sometimes that is impossible and a family breaks apart. Most of the time, I believe that when an individual chooses to serve their country, it must be on the basis of the Country coming first... 

I've purposely left out a lot of narrative of these books. There are many other reviews that you can check out. I found that, this morning, after having the loss of my president's decision sink in, my mind went to this trilogy and what happened... That book ends by Madam President going to the opposite party and seeking suggestions for her new Vice President, which would be another woman...

Already, this white male, that white male, or this other white male has been named as a possible candidate... If I had any way to recommend what was to happen, I would whisper to Kamala that she might want to consider a woman, Liz Cheney... Another person whose life was destroyed by the former president... And, if we are ever going to move forward beyond what has/is happening in America, we should try to move away from the republican cult and restore our two-party system. It may have been troublesome sometime. But at least it would still be a democratic nation... Cheney has the credentials and the spirit we need to win... And it would be a move forward by having both the president and vice-president filled by women... Especially after the destruction of women's health care via the republican-appointed Justices. No, I didn't get the idea from these books, but they certainly combine family and the political world in an outstanding, informative manner... Thoroughly enjoyable... Check them out!

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