Manchester, New Hampshire
Abbey Bartlet rushed into the kitchen the second her ears registered the distinct sound of the heated tea kettle whistling. She quickly removed it from the warm burner and places it on the cooler one beside it. She stood for a moment, listening intently for the excrutiating cries of a two-week old infant. When she heard nothing, she proceeded to pour the hot water into her mug, add the tea bag, milk, and sugar. Wrapping her fingers around the mug, she picked it up, walked into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch. She leaned over and grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and took the time to engage in a little channel surfing, an activity she rarely had the time, or desire, to participate in. She passed on the news, All in the Family re-runs, and The Cosby Show, finally settled on the movie Reds. She had seen the film in theaters, when it was first released in 1981, but not since then.
"Oh, Lord," Abbey muttered to herself as she watched Warren Beatty and Diane Keaton start a shouting match.
Although it was almost drowned out by the actors' loud voices, the sound of baby Lane's cries eventually reached her ears, to her utter dismay. She placed the mug and the remote control on the coffee table and reluctantly stood and trudged her way up the stairs into Lane's room. The volume of Lane's anguished wailing rose when she entered the room and approached her crib.
"Hey, you," she said, a challenging tone in her voice. "You can't embarrass me now, there's no one here. If you want me to satisfy that hunger of yours, you're going to have to stop crying, you hear me? Oh, what am I doing? I'm bargaining with an infant."
She leaned over the crib and gently gathered her daughter into her arms, cringing when she continued to cry. Though it was expected, each time Abbey blindly hoped it would change.
"You might as well stop crying now, Laney. There's no one here but me. Your sainted father is not going to come whisk you away from me. It's just me tonight, baby, so give it up. I did spend twelve hours of my life trying to push you out of my body, you know. It was no walk in the park either. You owe me your life, little girl, quite literally. I don't know what it is about me that you detest so much, but let me tell you, the feelings are not mutual. You can cry until you're blue in the face, but I'll love you anyway. That's right. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon, kid. Not until your eighteen, and we're looking at seventeen years and fifty weeks before that's happening. So, whadaya say? Truce?"
Abbey looked expectantly down at her daughter, praying that, by some stroke of miracle, the screaming would stop and the tears would dry. This, however, would not prove to be the case.
"That was fantastic!" Catherine Bartlet exclaimed, bursting outside the doors of the restaurant. "I haven't been to a restaurant like that in ages."
"Glad you enjoyed it, Mom," Johnny Bartlet said, trailing behind her.
"I did, thank you."
They walked through the parking lot, arm-in-arm, until they reached Johnny's 1985 Toyota sedan.
"Ready for our next stop?"
"And where might that be?" Catherine asked.
"Get in the car and you'll find out."
Concord, New Hampshire
"Jed!"
Governor Bob Foley greeted Jed Bartlet in the foyer, holding his arms wide open.
"How ya doin', Bob?" Jed asked, giving him a hug.
"Great, fine, excellent, all of the above," Bob replied, leading Jed into the his private study at the Governor's Mansion. "How about you?"
"Fine, thanks."
"How's Abbey?"
"She's…she's okay."
"Oh! She just had a baby, didn't she?" Bob questioned.
"Yeah, a girl. Lane. Liz had a baby too, ya know. I'm a grandfather."
"That's right, I remember. Well, congratulations!"
"Thank you!"
Bob sat down in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the room and beckoned for Jed to sit on the couch across from him.
"I'm glad you came, Jed. It's been a long time."
"Yes, it has."
"Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Bob stated.
Jed laughed.
"Yeah, I figured you had ulterior motives."
"As you know, I'm going into my last year as governor and the search for a worthy successor is a tough job."
"Tougher than actually being governor?" Jed smirked.
"It's getting there."
"And anyway, I thought you'd found your preferred successor. I thought Mark Walters was running."
"Dropped out," Bob replied.
"You're kidding."
"No. Last week. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."
"Well, what happened?" Jed asked.
"His wife has cancer."
"Oh, God. I'll have to call him. What kind of cancer?"
"Ovarian, I believe."
"Do me a favor, Bob?"
"Sure, what?"
"Don't tell Abbey about that, okay?" Jed said.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Her mother died of ovarian cancer. You know…it just upsets her."
"Right. Okay."
"Anyway. You want me to help you scout out a new candidate or…?"
"Actually, I've already chosen a new successor," Bob said.
"Yeah, who?"
"You."
