Grace enrolled the children in Sitwell Friends. And in January, Abigail and Andrew entered third and fourth grades, and Grace found a play group to join with Matthew. He was just two then.
They went back to Connecticut on holidays and for vacations, and whenever Congress wasn't in session and the children were out of school. Charles stayed close to his constituents and in touch with old friends, and he enjoyed every moment in Congress. He helped pass new legislation whenever he could, and found the endless committees he was on fascinating and fruitful. And during their second year there, Grace started an inner city “Help Kids!” in Washington modeled on the two in Connecticut and New York. She manned the phones a lot of the time, and made several appearances on television and radio shows. As the wife of a congressman she had more influence than she'd had before, and she enjoyed using it for worthwhile causes.
They also entertained a great deal, and went to political events. They were invited to the White House regularly. For them, the quiet years were over. And yet they were still able to lead a quiet life in Connecticut. And although he was an elected official, their life remained remarkably private. They weren't showy people. He was a hardworking congressman who stayed in close touch with his roots at home, and Grace was discreet and hardworking in her own arena, and with her children.
They had been in Washington for nearly three terms, five years, when Charles was approached again, and this time with an offer that interested him greatly. Being congressman had meant a lot to him and it had been a valuable experience, but he had also come to understand that there was more power and more influence on the country's destiny in other quarters. The Senate held a great lure to him, and he had many friends there. And this time he was approached by sources close to the President, anxious to know if he was willing to run for the Senate.
He told Grace about it immediately, and they talked about it endlessly. He wanted it, but he was also afraid to pursue it. There was more pressure, greater demands, tougher responsibilities, and far greater exposure. As a congressman, he had been well liked, and in many ways, one of the people. As a senator he could be viewed as a source of envy and a threat to many. All those anxious for the presidency would be looking at him, and anxious to throw him out of his traces.
“It can be a vicious job,” he explained candidly, and he worried about her too. They had left her alone so far. She was known for her good works, her solid marriage, and her sense of family, but she was rarely in the public eye. As the wife of a senator, she would be much more in the spotlight, and who knew what that would bring. “I don't ever want to do anything to hurt you,” Charles said, looking worried. She, and their family, were always his first concern, and she loved him all the more for it.
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not afraid. I don't have anything to hide,” she said, without thinking, and he smiled, and then she understood. “All right, I do. But no one's said anything yet. No one's ever come forward to talk about my past. And I paid my dues. What could they say now?”
It was all so long ago. She was thirty-eight years old. Her troubles were all so far behind her … twenty-one years … it was all over, and in many ways, to Grace, it seemed like a distant dream.
“A lot of people probably don't realize who you are, you have a different name, you've grown up. But as the wife of a senator, they could start delving into your past, Grace. Do you really want that?”
“No, but are you going to let it stop you? Is this what you want?” she asked him, as they sat in their bedroom talking late into the night, and slowly he nodded. “Then don't let anything stop you. You have a right to this. You're good at what you do. Don't let fear take over our lives,” she said powerfully. “We have nothing to be afraid of.”
They believed it too, and two weeks later he announced that in November he would be running for the Senate.
It was a tight race, and he would be fighting a tough incumbent. But the man had been in the Senate for a long time, and people thought it was time for a change. And Charles Mackenzie was very appealing. He had a great track record, a clean reputation, and a lot of friends. He was also very good-looking, and had a family people liked, which never hurt in an election.
The campaign began with a press conference, and right from the beginning, Grace saw the difference. They asked him questions about his history, his law firm, his personal worth, his income, his taxes, his employees, his children. And then they asked about Grace, and her involvement in “Help Kids!” and St. Andrew's before that. Mysteriously, they knew about the donations she'd made. But in spite of their probing, they seemed inclined to like her. Magazines called her up to do interviews, and photograph her, and at first she refused them. She didn't want to be in the forefront of the campaign. She wanted to do what she had done for him before, work hard, and stand just behind him. But that wasn't what they wanted. They had a fifty-eight-year-old candidate for senator with movie star good looks, and a pretty wife who was twenty years younger. And by spring they wanted to know everything about her, and the children.
“But I don't want to do interviews,” she complained to him one morning over breakfast. “You're the candidate, I'm not. What do they want with me for heaven's sake?” she said, pouring him a second cup of coffee. They had a housekeeper who came in halfway through the day, but Grace still liked being alone with Charles and the children and cooking breakfast for them herself every morning.
“I told you it would be this way,” Charles said calmly about the press. Nothing seemed to ruffle him, even when the stories about him were unflattering, which they often were now. It was the nature of the political beast, and he knew that. Once you entered the ring, you belonged to them, and they could do anything they wanted. Gone the peaceful congressional days when he only had to worry about the constituents he represented, and the local press. Now he was dealing with the national press, and all their demands and quirks, love affairs and hatreds. “Besides,” he smiled at her and finished his coffee, “if you were ugly, they wouldn't want you. Maybe you should stop looking like that,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her.
He took the kids to school as he always did. Matthew, their baby, was in second grade now. And Andrew had just started high school. They still all went to the same school, and they had gotten to the point where most of their friends were in Washington and not Connecticut, but they were at home in both places.
Things rolled along smoothly until June, the campaign was going well, and Charles was pleased with it. And they were just about to go back to Greenwich for the summer, when Charles appeared at the house unexpectedly in the afternoon, looking pale. For a sick moment Grace thought something had happened to one of the children. She heard him come in, and hurried down the stairs to the front hall just as he put down his briefcase.
“What's wrong?” she asked without pausing for breath. Maybe they had called him first … which one was it … Andy, Abigail, or Matt?
“I've got bad news,” he said, looking at her unhappily and then taking two quick steps toward her.
“Oh God, what is it?” She squeezed his hand without thinking, and when she took it away again she'd left a mark from the pressure of her fingers.
“I just got a call from a source we have at Associated Press …” then it wasn't the children, “Grace … they know about your father and your time at Dwight.” He looked devastated to have to tell her, but he wanted to prepare her. He was only desperately sorry to have put her in a position where she could have gotten so badly hurt. And he realized now that he never should have done it. He had been foolish and selfish and naive to think they could survive the campaign unscathed. And now the press were going to devour her.