She stood ramrod straight, her thoughts on Bitsy. Her snide email had unsettled her. Was this what she was in for on her return to her home state when this was over, if things continued the way they were going? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Last time, it hadn’t been this big, so a loss would be greater, deeper than before. The burst of applause startled her… damn, what part of the speech was he on? She glanced lovingly at her husband, nodding and smiling, and clapped with enthusiasm. Happily, it appeared to be the correct response.

Her feet were sore, and the dull ache in back was becoming more pronounced, begging her to sit down. Past problems had taught her to refocus when that pain began; the beast that had nearly consumed her was always crouched in the corner watching… waiting for her to show weakness. Like the women back home, it smelled defeat and joyfully pounced while you faltered.

As the speech drew to a close, her smile brightened, and she hoped it reached her eyes as she calculated how much of her personal fortune would have to be spent on charities and auctions to restore their place in that miserable society. For a week, it has seemed they would be leaving all that behind for greener pastures, which would turn them all green with envy. She stifled a sigh at that thought.

She hadn’t wanted it at first, but for a moment it had seemed so real, so close, In the days following the convention, she could taste it. Once, just once, she allowed herself to let it seep in, to try it on for size. It was sweet and intoxicating; but it turned bitter in no time at all. And she was well aware of what had poisoned the waters of both the campaign and her marriage.

She made her way down the stairs, pretending not to notice her husband had once again forgotten or chosen not to assist her as he rushed off the stage. She knew where his thoughts were nowadays, and she was becoming numb to it.

Nine. More. Days…