But not everyone was lavishly dressed. Caroline and Nathaniel had lived at the White House during the final year of the McKinley administration, where they formed tight friendships with their fellow staff, and those people were here in force to celebrate Caroline’s wedding. For once, instead of cooking, cleaning, or gardening, the White House servants would be treated as honored guests at the most festive party in town.
His gaze strayed to a cluster of men in uniform. There wereprobably half a dozen officers here, but Luke instinctively focused on his rival. Colonel Phelps wore his blue dress uniform with epaulets at the shoulders and a chest full of medals and ribbons. The colonel caught Luke’s gaze and sent him a polite nod.
Luke turned around. He wasn’t going to let that man spoil his enjoyment of Caroline’s wedding, but he didn’t feel the need to extend the hand of friendship either.
Nathaniel stepped into place at the front of the church, dressed in tails, a starched white collar, and an indigo satin vest. Nathaniel usually dressed like a puritan, but there was nothing fusty about him today. He looked flushed with good health and happiness.
Then Nathaniel’s eyes widened in surprise, and quiet whispers stirred through the crowd. Luke turned to see what had caused the commotion, and it wasn’t hard to see. Ida McKinley, the former first lady of the United States, was walking down the aisle with the aid of a cane on one side and her middle-aged sister on the other. Caroline had been Ida’s personal secretary and almost like a daughter to the infamously difficult first lady. Their falling out last year was a wound that still ached for Caroline.
Nathaniel beamed at Mrs. McKinley’s unexpected arrival and stepped forward to escort her into the pew behind Luke. A few minutes later, the organ began playing Mendelssohn’s classic wedding march, filling the church with its joyful and majestic chords. Pride filled Luke’s chest, and he turned to see the church doors at the end of the aisle open, revealing Gray and Caroline.
She looked as radiant as a queen. The bodice of the gown had a high collar and long sleeves made of ivory satin but shot through with gold embroidery. She beamed as Gray walked her down the aisle. Luke flashed her a wink, and she winked back.
Then she saw Mrs. McKinley, and her composure cracked.Once Caroline was alongside the older woman, she dropped Gray’s arm and leaned over to embrace the former first lady.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “A thousand times, thank you!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ida McKinley said. “Although it looks like you’re driving your brother into the poorhouse with that gown.”
Caroline beamed. “You would be disappointed in me if I didn’t.”
Luke laughed but still had to reach for a handkerchief. His embarrassing tendency for getting weepy-eyed was coming on strong, and it looked like Caroline’s wedding was going to be his Waterloo.
The wedding reception was held in a clubhouse on the outskirts of town. It was a good thing the weather was fine, allowing them to open the French doors so the crowd could spill out onto the flagstone patio. Flowers adorned the tables, music filled the air, and uniformed waiters circulated with a selection of delicacies.
Luke ate nothing. His stomach growled during the champagne toasts, during which he casually held aloft a flute of wine to toast the bride—it would have looked awkward if he hadn’t—but he was still a member of the Poison Squad and needed to abstain from eating or drinking anything other than plain water.
He met Gray’s eyes across the dance floor. His older brother raised a toast to him and drained the glass. This was a change of pace! Luke was supposed to be the hard-living, reckless one. Now, when he should have been popping corks and kicking up his heels at Caroline’s wedding, he obeyed the rules and didn’t let a morsel pass his lips while Gray picked up the slack.
It was stuffy inside the clubhouse, so he made his way outside into the warm evening. Then a tiny old woman with asurprisingly strong grip pulled him aside to castigate him for supporting Caroline’s work on the McMillan Commission.
“Tell your sister I cannot countenance the removal of the arboretum outside the Department of Agriculture,” she said in an iron-hard voice. “Those trees are a treasure to the city, a green oasis amidst the concrete rubble.”
“Ma’am, they will be replaced by miles of open parkland. The view will be—”
“Who cares about a view?” she barked. “It’s shade trees this city needs.”
Others joined the conversation. Political chatter was commonplace whenever more than a dozen people in Washington gathered, and soon the talk drifted to the upcoming budget, the restructuring of the War Department, and even the arrival of two bald eagles at the zoo. Maybe it wasn’t the thing to discuss politics at a wedding, but Luke loved it.He loved it. What a blessing that after years of struggling to find a meaningful purpose in this world, he’d found it right here in his hometown.
Then Caroline and Nathaniel came outside, and attention shifted to them as a photographer set up his tripod to take a special photograph Caroline requested. During her time at the White House, she shared a dormitory with nine other women who worked in the building. Two cooks, two telephone operators, three maids, a seamstress, and a laundress. Today they were all respectably dressed, but their work-roughened hands gave them away.
One of the older women seemed reluctant to join the others for the photograph. “We’re not the sort for a posed photograph,” she said.
“Nonsense!” Caroline exclaimed. “You nine ladies are the only sisters I ever had.”
The older woman beamed in reply and fell into place. Soon the women left, and Nathaniel posed with a group of Secret Service officers for their photograph with the bride. Jokes flewas the former White House colleagues reunited for the first time in almost a year.
A group of army officers, including Colonel Phelps, stood only a few feet away. Old instincts kicked in, and Luke immediately started eavesdropping. Often people felt compelled to jabber when they were anxious, but Luke had always found one could learn far more by simply listening. He held the glass of flat champagne in his hand, pretending to enjoy the view but privately scrutinizing Colonel Phelps.
The officers were speculating about additional army encampments moving out west, and if there was any room for promotion by accepting postings that far out of the limelight.
“If a rebellion in the Indian territories happens, it will come quickly,” Colonel Phelps said. “Things may appear calm at the moment, but the promotions will go to the men out in the field, not the staff officers in Washington.”
Personally, Luke would like nothing better than to have Colonel Phelps transferred out west. Perhaps Hawaii.
Soon the conversation shifted to the quality of the crab salad and the bacon-wrapped filet mignon. Luke’s stomach growled, but he had fended off worse hunger pains than this, and he was curious to hear Colonel Phelps’s opinion of Caroline’s gourmet selections. If Colonel Phelps aspired to an alliance with the Magruder family, he would have to become a fan of potted ham and chicken spread.
Sadly, Colonel Phelps said nothing disparaging about the food. He comported himself like a perfect gentleman for the entire ten minutes Luke eavesdropped.
