At that moment, a phone rang. The sound was faint and the tune wasn’t the one I used for my cell phone, but I instinctively turned toward the little device and picked it up. “Not me,” I said.
My mom got a split-second quizzical look on her face, then jumped up. “That’s mine,” she said, clearly surprised. “I don’t get many phone calls, so I didn’t…”
We missed the rest of her words as she turned into the bedroom. We heard soft scuffling sounds, then the tune ended and my mom said, “Hello.”
Two seconds later, she shut the bedroom door.
“A gentleman caller?” Mrs. Wentworth asked.
Nana snorted. “And I think I know exactly who that gentleman caller is.”
“Kap,” I said. I had forgotten about their “date” today.
“Now don’t get all worked up, honey,” Nana said, patting my arm like I was a four-year-old. “Your mom is allowed a little bit of fun while she’s out here.”
Her words hit their mark. I had wanted to make this trip the best Mom and Nana had experienced. I’d wanted to make them love Washington, D.C., as much as I did-by showing them the White House from the inside. By letting them walk the halls-not like tourists, but like insiders. Instead, the vacation had been sliced to ribbons by Minkus’s untimely death, and my obsession with getting back into the kitchen.
I had to face facts: The only real highlight this entire trip for my mom was her flirtation with Kap. In less than a week, Mom and Nana would be back in Chicago and Kap would still be here. Why was I behaving like an overprotective mother, trying to thwart my mom’s happiness? If she wanted to spend time with a man her age, a man who was clearly interested in her, then why shouldn’t she?
I argued both sides in my mind even as Nana and Mrs. Wentworth carried on a separate conversation. I had just about convinced myself that Kap’s phone call was a good thing for my mom’s ego when she emerged from the bedroom, her face flushed.
“Mom,” she said to Nana in a voice that held slight urgency, “you won’t mind if I take some time this afternoon, will you?” Almost as an afterthought, she turned to me. “You don’t mind either, right?”
Nana spoke before I could. “ ‘Course not, Corinne.” She slapped the back of her hand against my forearm. “Right, Ollie?”
Mrs. Wentworth asked the question. “Kap taking you out?”
In that instance, I felt a resurgence of fear. All the arguing I’d done with myself went out the window. There was something not right about Kap. I sensed he was not all he appeared to be, and if there was one thing I knew, it was to trust my gut. I couldn’t let my mother go out with him. Not alone. It was all too convenient that he’d popped into our lives just at this time. What was he really after?
“Yes,” Mom said. “He and I are going to dinner. But we plan to tour more of the National Mall first.”
“I thought we were all going to do that today,” I said, petulance creeping into my voice. “I thought we were all going to go together.”
Mom smiled. “I know how busy you are, Ollie…”
“Why isn’t he at the funeral?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he be with the family today?”
“I asked him that, actually.”
“And?”
“He said that Ruth and Joel preferred to keep the interment private. Family only.”
A teensy bit of spite from me. “I thought he was as close as family.”
Mom gave me a chastising glare.
“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t we go with you? Nana and I.” I turned. “And you, too, Mrs. Wentworth, if you want.”
Mom’s eyes widened.
“I’m not up for that today,” Nana said. “In fact, I think it might be just a little too cool outside for these old bones. Thanks anyway, honey.”
Mrs. Wentworth pierced me with a shrewd look that, in one second both berated me and mocked my attempt. “Sorry, dear. Stanley ’s coming by later. We have plans.”
The idea of my tagging along with Mom and Kap by myself was unappealing, to say the least.
The phone rang-my house phone this time-preventing me from making that suggestion. “Hang on,” I said, reaching for the receiver. “Before you give him an answer-”
“I’m going with him, Ollie.” Mom said. “I already told him he can pick me up at two.”
A thousand thoughts flew through my brain as I picked up the phone without checking Caller ID. “Hello?”
“Ollie, it’s Paul.”
Like a rerun of Monday morning, our chief usher was calling me at home-what could have happened now?
“Yes?” I said dumbly.
“I take it you’ve seen the Liss article?”
“Just a minute ago.”
Paul sounded angry and resigned at the same time. “I don’t know who leaked the story to him. It’s a pretty sad day when our staff learns that they’re back to work through the newspaper rather than through official channels.”
My mom’s plight momentarily forgotten, I caught hold of what he was saying. “We’re back? We can come back?”
“Right away. The sooner the better.”
Relief washed over me, rinsing away the crustiness of fear. “Thank you so much, Paul.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “The president and First Lady moved mountains to get the medical examiner to rush his decision. It’s because they want to get to the bottom of this mess, of course.”
I sensed he wasn’t finished talking.
“But it’s not just that. There’s another tidbit Liss got right in the story,” he went on. “The first couple is plenty tired of Secret Service food. How soon can you get here?”
There wasn’t a lot of choice, really. I couldn’t stay home-not when I was needed back at the White House. As much as I didn’t want my mom heading out for parts unknown with the mysterious Kap, there was little I could do to stop her. In the end, I left Mom and Nana with a spare set of keys and strict instructions to call me if anything came up or if they had any trouble whatsoever.
“What sort of trouble do you expect, Ollie?” Mom asked with a little too much glee.
“None,” I said. “Of course. But, you know, just in case.”
Nana looked up at me, a twinkle in her deep-set eyes. “So, no wild parties while you’re gone?”
A half hour later found me ready to board the Metro for my first trip back to the White House since Minkus’s death. My head was everywhere but where it should have been-aware of my surroundings.
I entered the mostly empty train car and didn’t pay any attention to the man who followed me in until he sat in the seat next to me. He wore an old-fashioned brown felt hat pulled low, and his overcoat was turned up at the collar. Except for his leather-gloved hand atop a cane, there was nothing distinctive about him. He smelled of too much aftershave.
In one instant, I berated myself for letting my guard down, but I’d been in situations more touchy than this one, so I didn’t hesitate. “Excuse me,” I said, and got up to change seats.
“Olivia,” he said.
About to take an aisle seat kitty-corner behind him, I turned. “What?”
“Come back. Sit down. We have to talk.”
He lifted the brim of his hat just enough.
I was about to exclaim, “Liss?” but he placed a finger across his lips. “Shh,” he said, then tapped the seat next to him. “Sit down. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”
“What are you, some sort of conspiracy theorist?” I asked, not caring at all that I spoke loudly enough to be heard by other passengers. “Oh wait.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s exactly what you are!”
I turned my back and headed to an aisle seat even farther away.
He turned and glared at me. Though I could only see his eyes and nose out of the top of his collar, I could feel the heat blaze. I wished I had a paperback or something to read. Instead I turned my head to the window. Unfortunately, we were underground and there really wasn’t much of a view, so I kept eye contact with my reflection, drawing from it a little sense of empowerment.