The door to the bedroom still hung open, and three other security guards had gathered to listen.
Mrs. McKinley lowered her head and spoke in a simmering tone like a mother reprimanding a wayward daughter. “Caroline, you’re asking for trouble.”
“You may be right, ma’am.” Her plan in Cuba was plenty of trouble, but it was time to let Ida salvage her dignity in front of the others. “I know I have duties, which is why I feel so terrible about leaving you. Your sister and nieces from Ohio have already agreed to stay on after the inauguration. Everything in the house will operate like clockwork.”
Mrs. McKinley opened her mouth to retort, but they both knew it was true, and she stammered in frustration. Instead, she turned to glower at the men in the open doorway. “Oh, be on your way,” she ordered.
In the end, Caroline got her permission to go to Cuba, but it was a blow to her relationship with Ida. This sort of dereliction of duty was not something the first lady was going to forget.
Nathaniel began the morning of the inauguration on his knees, praying for a calm head on this most chaotic of days. So far, this country had inaugurated twenty-four presidents without incident, but never on Nathaniel’s watch, and his anxiety made sleep the previous evening almost impossible.
By four-thirty he had dressed, eaten, and headed out into the early morning sleet to patrol Pennsylvania Avenue. He walkedwith a dozen other guards, all looking for potential security flaws along the parade route. Members of the local police had been stationed overnight to be on the lookout for suspicious activity, but they reported no concerns. Nathaniel trusted the police but still walked the entire mile-and-a-half route to be certain all was in order.
He didn’t like the president being escorted by elderly Civil War veterans, but there had been no dissuading him. Most of the veterans were in their sixties or older. Some of them walked with canes due to age and some with crutches due to lost limbs. They simply weren’t adequate bodyguards, which was why Nathaniel was planting Sullivan among the old veterans, dressed like a Union infantryman and carrying two six-shooter revolvers.
Nathaniel recruited Rembrandt to make Sullivan pass for an old man. Rembrandt was in his element as he swiped talcum powder through Sullivan’s chestnut hair.
“And now for a little color beneath the eyes,” Rembrandt said, opening the cosmetics palette Caroline had loaned him for the occasion.
“I’m not wearing makeup,” Sullivan growled.
“It’s not makeup, it’s a disguise,” Rembrandt replied.
“Fine. I’m not wearing a disguise if it means wearing makeup.”
All Rembrandt wanted to do was smudge some bluish-grey shading beneath Sullivan’s eyes so he didn’t look so baby-faced. They weren’t trying to fool the other veterans. They just needed to make Sullivan blend in with them.
“Add some age spots,” Nathaniel said, trying to block the laughter from his voice. The pained resignation on Sullivan’s face had them all in stiches. Rembrandt outdid himself, tracing tiny age lines at the corners of Sullivan’s eyes and adding a hint of fake jowls.
The morning began well. The prayer service ended ahead ofschedule, and the weather for the swearing-in ceremony outside the Capitol was cold but clear. At the White House, Caroline had the salad course already set out on the tables to accommodate the luncheon’s compressed timeframe. Nathaniel stood guard outside the dining room but caught glimpses of Caroline as she flitted about directing the waiters, pouring tea, and helping deliver plates during the main course. Rembrandt moved his tripod and camera throughout the room to memorialize the luncheon.
They were two minutes ahead of schedule, but Caroline had one more surprise before the guests left for the parade. She took her position beside the first lady, who nodded permission. The president tapped a fork against a wine glass to get the crowd’s attention. Caroline looked like the personification of elegance as she addressed the crowd.
“The first lady has arranged a small gift to thank you for helping make this a special day for her and the president. As you leave, I’ll be handing out boxes with two commemorative presidential spoons, each engraved with today’s date. She hopes they will help you remember this day for years to come.”
Gentle applause met the announcement, and Caroline smiled warmly as she gave each departing guest a small gift-wrapped box.
The parade went off without a hitch. The crowd roared as President McKinley strode down Pennsylvania Avenue, surrounded by soldiers from his old Ohio regiment. Nathaniel watched through binoculars on the White House patio. Even from here, he could see Sullivan marching alongside the president, one hand on the butt of a pistol, but the other waving to the crowd as though he were being celebrated, not the president.
By dinner, it was all over. The crowds dispersed, and cleanup crews moved in to dismantle the viewing stands. Sullivan returned to the White House like a conquering hero, the artfully applied makeup still in place.
“I’m not washing my face for a week,” he exclaimed. “I’ve just had the most memorable hour of my life. I felt like General Grant walking in triumph, waving to the adoring public.”
“Wash up, general,” Nathaniel said wryly. “The inaugural ball starts at nine o’clock, and the uniform is black tie. No cosmetics necessary.”
All the president’s guards needed to be as formally attired as the invited guests. Nathaniel had never worn black tie in his life and had to borrow a tailcoat from Wilkie. He wore a starched collar, a scarlet silk vest, and a slim-fitting cutaway jacket. When he examined himself in the mirror, it was impossible to see his shoulder holster and side arm beneath all the finery.
By eight o’clock he was at the Pension Building to await the arrival of the first couple and the vice president. The building was lit up like a Christmas tree, with torches flickering outside and over a thousand electric lightbulbs illuminating the inside. Nathaniel scanned the crowds that had gathered to watch.
The vice president’s carriage arrived first, and Theodore Roosevelt looked typically boisterous as he sprang to the ground and then helped his wife from the carriage. Then came McKinley’s carriage, and Nathaniel turned his back to it as he scanned the crowds, looking for anyone who didn’t belong amidst the well-dressed partygoers.
From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Caroline as she straightened the first lady’s train after leaving the carriage. It appeared Caroline’s blowup with Ida had been smoothed over. He’d heard about it, of course. Everyone had heard about it, for neither lady bothered to lower her voice as the battle raged. There were no signs of stress today as Caroline and George walked a few steps behind the McKinleys toward the entrance of the building. She wore a gown of sapphire blue with cascades of ivory lace. He wished he had longer to admire her, but he had a job to do.
Music, laughter, and the scent of spiced drinks filled the airinside, but his gaze scanned the room in a pattern—all four corners of the ground floor, the corners of the ceiling, across all three balconies, and down the staircase. His gaze drifted across the guests, the ladies in shimmering fabrics and men in formal blacks.
Hours rolled by, alternating between dancing, a few speeches, and much laughter. Vague hunger pangs began tugging at Nathaniel around midnight. It was time for his twenty-minute break, and he switched positions with Sullivan. He grabbed a wedge of cheese and some grapes before escaping the crowd by heading to the top-floor balcony, where only a few people mingled.
One of them was Caroline. She stood at the railing, gazing at the crowded ballroom below. He gave in to temptation and joined her.
