Perhaps a man like Captain Holland would sympathize with Luke’s tarnished past. At this point, he might be her only hope.
Caroline couldn’t let herself be discouraged by the president’s refusal to help. She would go see Captain Holland on her next free afternoon, but in the meantime, she needed to ensure McKinley would be reelected. For today, that meant working with Sven de Haas, the chairman of McKinley’s reelection committee.
Sven had resented Caroline from the day the president invited her to attend the campaign meetings. Rail-thin but with the leathery skin of a man who spent most of his life in smoke-filled rooms, Sven didn’t believe women belonged at this particular table. After all, women didn’t have the vote, so why was Caroline even here?
She ignored Sven’s sullen frown as she glided into the chair next to George for the weekly update on the campaign, prepared to coordinate the first lady’s schedule for campaign appearances. The only topic on which she and Sven agreed was that President McKinley needed to get out of the White House and begin actively campaigning or he was in danger of losing.
“The people don’t like thinking you take their loyalty for granted,” Sven said to the president. “Everyone understands you can’t spend months on the trail the way Bryan can, but even a few public speeches will send a signal to the people that you appreciate their support.”
Caroline held her breath, hoping Sven could sway his opinion, but the president impatiently gestured to a stack of postcards. “I thought that’s why you spent thousands of dollars printing up campaign literature. That will get my message out.”
The postcards would be inserted into newspapers across the land, but who read campaign literature? Caroline skimmed the postcard. It dutifully recounted the president’s accomplishments but didn’t warm up his image. President McKinley was a solidly built man with a barrel chest and deep-set eyes, and his face was naturally inclined to a scowl. While he had once been a handsome man, the stress of the presidency and care for an ailing wife had prematurely aged him. He looked like a tough, scowling bulldog.
It was an illusion. Caroline saw the president’s compassionate side almost every day, but the voters didn’t. William Jennings Bryan was young and spoke with a fervent idealism they couldn’t afford to ignore.
“Perhaps we could stage a photograph of you taking tea with Mrs. McKinley, or a casual stroll with her on the lawn,” she said impulsively. “People love candid photographs like that.”
Sven rolled his eyes. “Womenlove photographs like that, but women don’t have the vote. The vote is reserved for men whose labor and property gives them a legitimate stake in who runs the government.”
Caroline bristled. “I own one-third of a global spice company that employs hundreds of people. Why shouldn’t I be entitled to vote?”
“Read the Constitution, Miss Delacroix,” Sven said, and it was like a bur wriggling beneath her skin.
She fought to speak cordially. “I know your Viking ancestors might be appalled at the notion of women having their own opinions, but the typical American woman is actually a major contributor to her household’s labor. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to vote?”
“Miss Delacroix makes a good point,” President McKinley said. “My wife certainly thinks women ought to have the vote. Perhaps we should work on changing things.”
Sven vaulted off his chair. “Don’t say that! At least not in public. You’re not so popular that you can go out on a limb on a position like that.”
“Time is growing short,” George said. “We need to get you out on the stump with coverage in the newspapers.”
“Absolutely not,” the president said. “I will be judged by my diligence in office, not by how many babies I kiss.”
A discreet knock on the door interrupted the discussion, and a White House usher entered and crossed the room to Caroline. “Mr. Trask has requested your presence in his office,” he said in a low voice.
She turned in surprise. “Did he say why?”
“No, ma’am. Just that you are to come at once.”
It was frustrating to be pulled out of this meeting, but everyone was under orders to obey Nathaniel without question.
She sent an apologetic glance at the others. “Forgive me. Hopefully this will be quick.”
Nathaniel had one of the newer offices. This was the first time Caroline had seen it, and she stood in the open doorway to admire the new paneling, the electric fan on his desk, and the pretty view out the single window. But those weren’t the biggest surprise. Her eyes widened as she spotted an unexpected luxury.
“How come you get your own telephone?” There were only four in the entire building: the president’s office, George’s desk, the switchboard in the basement, and now here.
“Because I need one,” he said blandly.
“You also got the only new office with a window.”
“Security.”
The hint of amusement in his gaze and the way he kept his answers as terse as possible made her think he was flirting with her. An odd flirtation, but maybe that was how Puritansflirted. His suit was plain, but the way he sat behind the desk as though it were a command post gave him an aura of authority that stirred her reluctant attraction. She needed to squash it.
“Come inside, we have business to discuss,” he said.
And downstairs, decisions were being made about the presidency. “I was in the middle of an important meeting and would prefer to get back to it.”
