“Congressman,” she said a little breathlessly, “can you tell me how the school for immigrant girls came to your attention?”
He perused her from the top of her head all the way down to her silk-encased feet. Masculine appreciation was nothing new to her, and if it snagged this man’s attention, she didn’t mind using it.
“And you are?” he asked.
“Caroline Delacroix, secretary to the first lady.”
Recognition dawned. “Oh yes! Your brother Luke tracked me down last summer. He brought the school to my attention. It seems a worthy cause.”
Luke had been arrested in June, so it must have been shortly before. It was hard to stand here and discuss her brother with a perfect stranger, but the congressman didn’t notice as he launched into a monologue.
“I told him it was a losing proposition, as the federal government rarely tackles one-off schools like this, but he gave me good advice on how to pull a few strings and make it a surefire win. Very clever young man; it worked like a charm. Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him in ages.”
Caroline hesitated. Although Luke’s arrest had been leaked to the press almost a month ago, she’d done some fancy footwork, and the newspaper had issued a complete retraction, for the army was still dithering about filing charges. The story never caught traction.
She evaded the question. “Knowing Luke, he’s probably off courting some Russian princess or exploring the North Pole.”
The congressman laughed. “Ha! Of the two, I’d vote for the North Pole. Everyone always underestimates that young man. Now, I’m off to review these proposals and indulge in a smoke. Best of luck to you with the school.”
The school would be Petra’s responsibility, and now Caroline could move on to planning the inaugural ball. She was good at being a hostess, but the inauguration would be the largest party in the nation, and it was going to be a daunting challenge.
Seventeen
Winter crashed into Washington with a vengeance. As December morphed into January and then February, it seemed the ice storms would never cease. The ladies’ dormitory had no fireplace, and each morning Caroline shivered as she dashed to grab her warmest clothes.
The inauguration would take place on the fourth of March. Mrs. McKinley had no interest in helping plan the day, relying on Caroline and George to design the tightly choreographed schedule. A morning worship service would be followed by a procession to the Capitol for the swearing-in ceremony. While George and Sven polished the president’s speech, Caroline took the lead on organizing the luncheon. Special guests would join the president for a sumptuous meal that had to be served on a compressed timetable, for the inaugural parade involving thousands of people could not be postponed for the sake of a delayed soup course.
It was going to be the largest military procession ever assembled for an inauguration, featuring five thousand soldiers. Fifteen separate marching bands and dozens of cavalry units from across the nation would participate. Cadets from the militaryand naval academies would march, along with regiments from the National Guard.
All of it was a security nightmare, and Nathaniel was a daily presence in their planning sessions. With hands fisted and a clenched jaw, it was obvious he dreaded the day, but never more so than when informed who the president had requested to escort him during the parade.
“Old soldiers?” he asked incredulously, pacing before George’s desk.
“There will be eighty Civil War veterans to serve as the president’s special escort,” George confirmed.
“Eighty old men,” Nathaniel said. “We expect forty thousand people crowded along Pennsylvania Avenue, and you want the president to be guarded by old men?”
George shrugged helplessly. “The president specifically asked for ‘the old boys’ to walk him to the reviewing stand. I have complete confidence in you, Mr. Trask. Find a way.”
Find a wayhad been George’s refrain for weeks. Whether it was how Caroline could serve a four-course luncheon in half an hour, find lodging for six hundred visiting diplomats, or stable two thousand horses, the answer was always the same.Find a way.
She had. All the government buildings would be closed and filled with pallets on the floors and hallways to serve as temporary barracks for the soldiers. Members of the diplomatic corps from foreign nations expected better, but there weren’t enough hotel rooms in the city. Caroline braved freezing winds and ice storms to pound on the doors of private residences, looking for people willing to put up visitors from Europe, Asia, and Latin America. She pled, bargained, and flirted, and after a month, she’d secured decent lodging for six hundred visiting dignitaries.
Her biggest challenge was the inaugural ball, to be held in the Pension Building. Despite its fusty name, it was a majesticspace with a three-story Italianate atrium surrounded by towering marble columns and wraparound balconies overlooking the grand hall. That meant Caroline had acres to decorate with thousands of candles, swags of bunting, and towering floral arrangements. Endless rounds of canapés and finger food would be served throughout the ball, all of it accompanied by wines and punch.
Planning the nation’s biggest party was a challenge Caroline eagerly embraced, but as the inauguration drew near, her divided loyalties grew. While she planned a party, her brother languished in jail. By making herself indispensable to the president, she hoped to earn Luke a presidential pardon, but what if she didn’t?
Sven de Haas was usually on hand. Now that the election was over, the president’s chief strategist worried about setting the perfect tone to kick off the second term. She spent an entire afternoon bickering with him about the flags to be displayed at the ball. The president’s new agenda would push for an end to American isolation, and Sven wanted as many foreign flags as American. She disagreed, insisting that the evening was an American party and the theme shouldn’t be watered down.
She lost that battle, giving her a headache and the need for an hour of peace. She retreated to the White House roof for some privacy and gazed out over the bleak February landscape.
“It’s just a party,” she whispered. Did the president even realize how hard she’d been working, slogging through ice storms and designing a series of meals, receptions, and the inaugural ball while Ida knitted baby booties in the comfort of her parlor?
She opened the latest letter from Luke, which had arrived in yesterday’s post, rereading it yet again. It was typical of all his letters: jokes about the bad food and commentary about the weather. Gray had been sending the guards money to smuggle Luke whatever reading material they could find, but it seemedthe guards deliberately taunted Luke by bringing him obscure books in languages he could not read.
But they underestimated her brother, whose hungry mind devoured whatever they brought him. Yesterday’s letter was proof of that.
The guards provided a copy of the Old Testament in Hebrew, but they failed to notice the transliteration primer for Hebrew, Latin, and Greek in the back. I’m at last putting those tedious Latin classes Dad insisted on to good use! Between the primer and comparing the text with my English Bible, I’m making solid progress on learning Hebrew. Perhaps I shall become a Hebrew scholar while imprisoned.
