“That’s not fair,” Vera rushed to say. “Andrew is a wonderful father. Just look at how often he brings Sam to Washington to teach him about the ways of the nation.”
It was more likely that Andrew visited because he was still struggling at managing the company. Andrew had taken over Magruder Food when Clyde began serving in Congress, and he still needed plenty of advice.
Vera listed all of Andrew’s wonderful achievements, but her father was completely absorbed in the newspaper. His entire body went stiff, and his eyes narrowed in an expression that always frightened her as a child. Something in the newspaper had made him angry, and she was glad it wasn’t her.
Then he lowered the paper and skewered her with a piercingglare across the breakfast table. “Marianne,” he said carefully, “didn’t you tell me that you took the official photographs of the men volunteering for that pointless study at the Department of Agriculture?”
Her fingers froze. “I did.”
Without a word, Clyde folded the newspaper into quarters, then flung it across the table at her. It landed on top of her scrambled eggs with asplat. She carefully lifted the newspaper and saw the photograph of the Poison Squad lined up in the parlor of their boardinghouse.
Her mouth went dry, for there in the front row was Luke Delacroix, crouching on one knee. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were still laughing as he looked directly into the camera. The headline jumped out at her:
Daring Team of Men Taunt Fate as They Join the Poison Squad
She set down the newspaper. “Yes, I took that photograph,” she admitted, then casually took a bite of eggs even though they tasted like sawdust.
“I forbid you to see that man again,” her father warned.
“I didn’t know he would be there,” she said truthfully. “I couldn’t have turned around and walked out.”
“Have you seen him on any other occasions?” Clyde demanded, his face pure flint.
Marianne glanced away, fearful her father would see too much on her face. She’d seen Luke often enough to start falling in love, and she was terrible at disguising her feelings.
“A few times,” she admitted.
“What man?” Vera demanded. “Is Marianne seeing a man and didn’t tell me?”
Andrew grabbed the newspaper, shaking off a few bits of egg and reading the article. His eyes quickly skimmed the text, and he began reading aloud from the story.
“‘A sign printedby the men hangs over the dining room entrance, reading “Only the Brave Dare Eat the Fare.” The men jokeand tease during the meals, speculating about where the poison is hidden.’”Andrew glanced at her over the rim of the paper. “And you have something to do with this nonsense?”
“I only took a photograph for documentation,” she said. “I have nothing at all to do with that experiment.”
“Good, because it’s pointless,” Andrew snapped. “Food preservatives are perfectly safe, and these men are stirring up paranoia for no good reason. Listen to this nonsense.” He picked up the newspaper and began reading again. “‘The men jest about whose stomach is stronger. They claim the coffee cake was dusted with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a heaping spoonful of Rough on Rats.’”
Sam giggled at the name of the popular household rodent killer. “They eat rat poison?” he asked in excited wonder.
“Don’t be silly,” Marianne rushed to say. “The food is preserved with a bit of borax and formaldehyde, just like your daddy uses in our factory.”
“I want to try it,” Sam said.
“Marianne, who is this man your father is annoyed about?” Vera asked.
She risked a glance at Clyde, who clenched his fork as he smoldered at her from across the table. He nodded for her to answer.
“His name is Luke Delacroix,” she said. “He’s a—”
“I know who he is!” Vera cut her off. “Why on earth are you consorting with him?”
“I haven’t consorted with him! I was asked by my supervisor to take a photograph of the group, and he happened to be on the team.” This was exactly what she had feared. Why couldn’t she come from a normal family where she didn’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about lifelong feuds? She dared not mention the passionate kiss she had shared with Luke in the darkroom,but it might slip out that she’d also taken photographs of his office, and it would be best if she confessed that now. “I also took a few pictures of his office as a courtesy,” she said without meeting anyone’s eyes.
“I trust there will be no more such photographs,” Clyde stated.
“I’m supposed to take another set of the Poison Squad one month into the experiment. That will be next week at the beginning of March.”
“You will tell your supervisor that you are unable to take those photographs.” Clyde’s voice was implacable. “I want you to look me in the eye and promise me that you will do so.”
