Chris Riddick, by contrast, was dressed in his usual dark suit and crewneck shirt, which allowed him to disappear—and that’s exactly what he felt like doing right now. The small park was packed with bodies, exactly as Braden’s organizers had planned it, so that no camera angle could suggest so much as an empty corner. It took every citizen of Endor to pull it off, and more than a few from the neighboring towns of Linden and Riverton and Front Royal—but they would have all come anyway. Little Victoria had come home, and this was their chance to see the next First Lady of the United States.

“I want to thank the Endor High School marching band for that rousing rendition of ‘Hail to the Chief.’ I should remind you that ‘Hail to the Chief ’ is the official presidential anthem, reserved only to announce the president of the United States. I’m afraid playing it for me was a breach of protocol—or at least a little premature.”

The audience erupted in laughter.

Riddick looked at Victoria and almost smiled. You’re good, sweetheart— really good. She rarely glanced down at her notes; it gave the audience the impression that she was speaking straight from her heart, though in fact her text was always prepared in advance and she rarely departed from it. But even when she did, her instincts were unerring; she knew what she wanted from an audience and she got it. You always get what you want, Riddick thought. You just get tired of the things you get.

The day had begun with a humiliating “Welcome Home” parade up Main Street—a pathetic stretch of potholes lined with appliance stores and thrift shops and gift boutiques promising tourists “authentic mountain crafts.” Next came a visit to “Endless High,” followed by a mind-numbing “high tea” with the wife of the mayor. At each event Riddick did what he always did—stand in the corner and look formidable and protect Mrs. Braden from dangers that didn’t exist. Somehow Victoria managed to throw herself into every event, smiling and waving and listening enraptured to boring drivel with eye contact like a laser-guided weapon—and everywhere she went the cameras clicked softly, capturing every caring moment.

“Some of you may not know this, but ‘Hail to the Chief ’ was first used to announce the president at the inauguration of James K. Polk. It seems that Mr. Polk was a short man, and his wife was afraid that he might arrive unnoticed. Fortunately, my husband doesn’t have that problem; when John Henry Braden walks into a room, people know he’s there. John is a man of stature—you’re going to notice that between now and November whenever he stands alongside another candidate. You’ll notice his stature—not just in height but in principles, in values, in ideas that will make this country an even greater place to live.”