“Unacceptable, Miss Delacroix,” Nathaniel said as he tugged on the fabric nailed to the window of the presidential sleeper car. “You might as well hang a bull’s-eye and invite people to shoot through the window. These cars need to look as nondescript as possible.”
“Not everyone hates pomp and circumstance as much as you,” Caroline said.
He asked a station attendant to bring him a claw hammer so he could pull the nails holding the bunting in place. Once it was down, he began inspecting the interior of the cars designated for the presidential party. There was a dining car, a passenger car, a lounge car, two sleeper cars for the staff, and a private sleeper for the McKinleys. It would be a thirty-six-hourjourney that would deliver them to Canton a full day ahead of the election.
The good news was that Wilkie had promised to transfer Nathaniel as soon as the election was over. The plan for securing the White House was completed and submitted. New guards had been trained. It was time for him to leave.
Caroline would become someone else’s problem. He could no longer be rational about her. It had been nice to have a friend and a confidant inside the White House, but he shouldn’t have let her get to him.
Even though she annoyed and frustrated him, he already missed her.
Caroline felt like a wide-eyed innocent as she helped Mrs. McKinley move into the private sleeping car, for it looked like someplace royalty would live. The sitting area had walls of polished cherrywood, embellished with sumptuous brass fittings and velvet upholstery on the furniture. A partition created a sleeping room complete with a king-sized bed and a private marble-tiled bath.
“This bed is almost as comfortable as the one at home,” Ida said while testing the mattress.
After hanging Ida’s gowns in the wardrobe, Caroline unpacked other personal articles. She propped an anniversary photograph of the McKinleys on the bedside table along with a bowl of Ida’s favorite mint candies and a box of the president’s cigars.
Caroline had forgotten to bring a box of matches for the president. He never smoked in public, but he enjoyed a nightly cigar after dinner. Rummaging through her purse, she found her own match case and set it beside the president’s cigars. It had been six weeks since she’d indulged in a cigarette, but she’d brought a few in case the craving became unbearable during the trip.
Ida caught a glimpse of them in her purse. “Don’t tell me you’re still smoking.”
“I won’t be this week,” Caroline said. “I just donated my entire supply of matches for the good of the nation.”
Mrs. McKinley gave an approving nod. “You must abstain for more than a week. This battle must be a lifelong commitment. Men don’t like a woman who smells like an ashtray.”
“I don’t smell like an ashtray.” After all, she brushed her hair, spritzed on rose water, and took a mint each time she indulged in a cigarette.
“I can always tell when you’ve been smoking.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Oh yes, I can. It’s not ladylike, Caroline.” Ida limped toward the sitting area and lowered herself onto a chair, gesturing for Caroline to join her. She reached into her bag of knitting and began to work on a baby bootie. “It isn’t natural for a woman your age to still be single. You need to stop smoking, and please, don’t speak so directly to men. You’ll scare them off.”
“Youalways speak to men in a direct manner.”
“But I’m already married, so there’s no need for me to worry about it! You don’t want to be an old maid,” Ida cautioned. “Are there no men in Washington who appeal to you?”
Nathaniel immediately sprang to mind. He had a famously reserved and puritanical comportment, but there was a passionate side quietly smoldering just beneath the surface. As much as he pretended indifference, she sensed it every time his eyes tracked her with carefully restrained intensity.
“I’m not interested in any man while I have commitments in the White House.”
Ida smiled. It was the right thing to say, for Ida expected Caroline’s full attention until the last hour of the last day of the McKinley administration.
Sleeping quarters on the train for the staff were only curtain-covered berths, but Caroline was thrilled with the dining accommodations because everyone would dine alongside the McKinleys. Two long tables filled the center of the dining car, with another for the buffet at the end.
By morning, the train had crossed into Ohio, but they were all treated to a full breakfast in the dining car. Caroline filled a plate for Ida while everyone else served themselves and ate together without regard to wealth or status. The president sat next to the White House clerks, and Ida sat beside junior guards. The delicious scent of bacon and scrambled eggs filled the traveling caravan, silverware clattered, and laughter was plentiful. In a few hours they would arrive in Canton, and the air hummed with excitement as the train sped through the rainy countryside. This was their last opportunity to relax before the whirlwind of election day tomorrow.
Caroline circulated to chat and refill everyone’s coffee cups while Rembrandt took impromptu photographs of people as they mugged for the camera.
The only gloomy one in the group was Nathaniel, whose grim expression sucked all the energy from his corner of the railcar. Rather than join the others at the table, he had curled up in the sitting area on the far end of the car. The corners of his mouth turned down as he scribbled in his notebook.
“Why don’t you join the rest of us at the table?” Mrs. McKinley asked him. “You can’t protect my husband if you’re fainting from hunger.”
Nathaniel glanced up. “I ate before everyone else was up. I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine. He looked tense and moody, and he was making Mrs. McKinley nervous. If possible, his mood darkened even further as the train arrived in Canton. He was always edgy when guarding the president outside the White House, but Caroline wasn’t going to let him spoil her day.
Canton was charming. Prosperous storefronts, spacious parks, and manicured front lawns spoke of solid respectability. At the Canton train station, townspeople waved American flags and applauded for the town’s most famous resident. Even from inside the train, Caroline heard a brass band playing “Hail to the Chief.”
