She couldn’t help but note how happy he seemed to be there, which lifted her spirts, too. He loved to play basketball, and having a court right there would be great for him. If only she could shake off the anxiety that came from being so far removed from her own home base in DC. It was the same feeling she’d had on trips to Bora Bora the last few years, but it was even more so here. When they were on those trips, she was far enough away to let go of her work responsibilities. Here, she was close enough to get to DC if needed, but it would take some doing, and that was the part she found stressful.

Shake it off, she told herself as she took in the scenery and coziness of the camp. You deserve a vacation like everyone else.

Captain Martin directed Nick to a cabin with a rough-hewn sign on the front designating it as Cedar. “Welcome to the presidential cabin, home away from home to every president since FDR.” She pointed to a small pond in front of the cabin. “President Roosevelt had that built because he wanted a water source nearby, as he was desperately afraid of fire.”

They followed her up the stairs to a porch and inside to a surprisingly dated cabin that had just the right amount of coziness and comfort with a stone fireplace being lit by a young Navy sailor, a sunny living room with comfortable-looking furniture and bookshelves she would check out later. Captain Martin showed them the kitchen and pantry, neither of which was anything flashy, as well as four bedrooms. Scotty and Eli decided to share a room, as would the twins.

“This is lovely,” Sam said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Captain Martin said. “Camp David isn’t to everyone’s taste, but those who are able to relax and fully soak up the atmosphere tend to really love the escape it provides from the grind of the White House.”

“I can already tell we’re going to love it,” Nick said.

The sailor lighting the fire stood to greet them. “Welcome, Mr. President, Mrs. Cappuano.”

Sam and Nick shook hands with him.

“What’s your name, sailor?” Nick asked.

“Petty Officer Third Class Mick Torres, sir.”

“Where’re you from, Petty Officer Torres?”

“Tulsa, Oklahoma, sir.”

“Thank you for your service.” Nick gestured to the White House photographer who’d accompanied them and posed for a photo with the young man. “I’ll make sure you get a copy of that.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

After the sailor left, Captain Martin said, “You’ve made his entire career with that photo, sir. It means a lot to the team that runs Camp David to have you and your family here, Mr. President.”