“I wish all information was kept in-house,” I said.
Henry continued, undaunted. “Liss is determined to get Cooper fired.”
“He told you that?”
“Close enough. I quote: ‘Our country can’t afford to clean up any more of Cooper’s messes.’ ”
I shook my head. “We can’t worry about Liss. Or anyone else, for that matter. Our job today is simple: Easter dinner for the First Family, then the last-minute preparation for tomorrow. The sooner we get it all done, the sooner we can all get home to our own families. Now, let’s do our best to provide our president with the best dinner ever, shall we?”
Henry’s smile was wide. “You have become the leader I expected you to, Ollie.”
Monday morning I woke up earlier than I normally would. I couldn’t sleep, knowing how much we had to do. I had been through Easter Egg Rolls before-but this one loomed large. Short-staffed, behind schedule, and still suspected by the public, we were nonetheless expected to put on the biggest, best Egg Roll event ever. My family must have felt the same charge in the air because Mom and Nana got up with me, and bustled me out the door with good wishes for a successful day.
“You remember how to get there?” I asked them for the tenth time.
Mom sighed. “Yes, and before you double-check again, we do have our tickets. We will be there, Ollie. We wouldn’t miss it.”
I couldn’t take the Metro this early, so I drove in, trying my best to enjoy the dark morning sky and the promise of possibility. I usually loved early mornings-the air smelled fresher and the world sparkled with newness-but today my worries kept me from being able to enjoy any of it.
Once in the kitchen, there was very little chatter. After preparing the First Family’s breakfast, we set to work on everything else planned for the day. My mind was on Tom. And Bucky. And getting everything done just right and on time. The annual Egg Roll was a major Washington affair. I remembered the huge crowd waiting patiently for ticket distribution on Saturday. No one wanted to miss it.
Activities were scheduled-and food provided-all day. In addition to the actual rolling of the eggs, there would be a kid-friendly band playing pop hits; famous politicians reading books to youngsters; tours of the gardens; and, of course, visits from the Easter Bunny and other familiar characters.
By eight in the morning, we were ready.
“Let’s roll ’em out,” I said.
Henry began the arduous task of getting the hard-boiled eggs out to the South Lawn. Although he had lots of help from the wait staff, it was still a major production to get the eggs out with minimal breakage, and into place in time for the festivities to begin. We’d boiled about 15,000 eggs in total, dyeing a large portion of them. The remaining undyed eggs were set up at tables where children were offered supplies and the opportunity to decorate their own eggs, if they wished.
The pre-dyed eggs were used in the races. Marguerite Schumacher’s team not only provided giant spoons to push the eggs down their grassy lanes, her volunteers kept order-inasmuch as that was possible-running and timing the races, and naming winners. On a day like today, however, everybody won.
It was nice not to have to worry about that part. Once the boiled eggs were out of my kitchen, I breathed a sigh of relief. They were a huge responsibility and I was happy to deliver the precious eggs into Marguerite’s capable hands. Major hurdle number one: complete.
But then I remembered Bucky. He had worked so hard to get these eggs done-to get them delivered-to make sure everything went smoothly. For all his complaining, the curmudgeon should be here to appreciate the fruits of his efforts. I missed him.
With a grunt, I hoisted a lemonade dispenser onto a wheeled cart. We provided soft drinks and snacks all day. Keeping items cold, and others warm, was one of our biggest challenges. Another important concern was inventory. We wanted to have enough so as not to run out of anything. As Henry and the wait staff wheeled the third and fourth carts of eggs out the back of the White House and toward the South Lawn, I went over the menu again with Cyan. She and I had been alternating outdoor and indoor duty as we confirmed our strategy to replenish the buffet tables at regular intervals. We’d be keeping our runners busy.
On my final trip back to the kitchen, I ran into Cyan on her way out. “We’re good to go,” I said. “Perfect timing. I was just coming to get you.”
Together we headed to our station, just south of the East Wing. The morning was bright, the dew just beginning to evaporate. I wished for a touch more warmth today, and I was hopeful for it. The forecast called for a surge from the south. I rubbed my arms. Five more degrees would do it.
In addition to the official Easter Bunny, who was easily recognized by the massive, beribboned basket he carried, there were at least a dozen other costumed characters strolling the grounds. But most were not ordinary rabbits. Pink-, blue-, and purple-furred, I knew these were actually Secret Service agents in disguise. Cyan and I had seen several of them donning their outfits in the Map Room-the Guzy boys among them. One of the monstrous brothers lumbered by me. With a bulletproof vest and the bright, thick hide, it had to be extra hot in that costume. And no way to even wipe his brow without removing the headpiece. Poor guy.
“The Eagle has landed,” Henry said when he joined us. “Or should I say, the eagle’s eggs have landed?”
There were two long buffet tables set up in the grass, about twenty feet apart. The way we had it planned, Cyan and Henry would each handle one and I’d float between them, overseeing the entire food service, allowing them breaks when needed. It would be a long day, but we’d been through this before. To be honest, we enjoyed this particular event. No one wanted to miss even a minute of the kids’ excitement.
The buffets were set up identically. We offered simple fare-cheese sticks, salads, veggie burgers, and fruit, among other barbecue staples like grilled chicken and hot dogs. We had, in fact, worked hard to keep the menu uncomplicated but sufficient to satisfy as many tastes and dietary needs as possible.
“Here they come,” Cyan said.
I looked up at the wave of humanity rolling toward us. Within minutes, the lawns were packed and veteran egg-rollers made their way to the South Portico, waiting for the First Lady to make her appearance on the Truman Balcony.
I wished I could stand up there, too, just for a moment. I wanted to be able to overlook the grounds. There were tents-giant three-pole monsters, and little one-pole pavilions-set up in strategic spots all over the Ellipse and South Lawn. The large exhibition areas would serve as main stages for the featured tween bands, and the small ones for political dignitaries who’d volunteered to read picture books aloud. There were craft tents, too. Some offered egg dyeing, others allowed kids to create cardboard bunny ears for themselves. With flowers and streamers and balloons against the backdrop of the springy green lawns, this was truly a most beautiful event.
We always had a huge contingent of volunteers. Most of them were local teens, some were members of the Egg Board, but all were easily recognized by their white aprons and big smiles. The sun warmed my bare forearms. But I still felt an unhappy chill.
Cyan and I were putting our finishing touches on the buffets when the music strummed to life. I heard the beginning strains of “Easter Bonnet,” and looked up to see two full-size yellow bunnies accompanying the First Lady on the Truman Balcony.
Those of us on staff had been told what the visiting public had not. All yellow bunnies were performers. The rest of the “hare” staff, aside from the official “Easter Bunny,” of course, were Secret Service agents in disguise. They would keep in character by mingling and interacting with the kids, but in case of trouble, the pink, purple, and blue rabbits were on call.
The yellow bunnies on the balcony were pretending to conduct the band while the families on the ground stared up, enjoying the beautiful music and crisp spring day. When the song ended, Mrs. Campbell stepped to the microphone. She gave a short speech of welcome and reminded everyone that the races would begin when her husband blew the whistle.