Ah… cranky Bucky. We were back to normal.
I didn’t bother to respond, and minutes later the rest of the crew trooped in. In short order, we were going full force, producing attractive and delicious hors d’oeuvres for today’s crowd to enjoy. There was almost no sound in the room as the clock struck the next hour… and the next.
After we sent Mrs. Campbell’s breakfast to the residence, I stole up to the first floor with Marcel to get another look at where the press conference would be held. “I do not appreciate the way they have been moving my house around,” he said as we headed up the steps. “They can easily break it, and then where would we be?”
“They moved it?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “They tell me this is a better location for crowd control.” He sniffed.
“Maybe it would be better to display it in the State Dining Room after all,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. “The photographers would have more room to maneuver and get better pictures.”
“This, unfortunately, is not my decision.”
“No matter where it’s displayed, your gingerbread house will undoubtedly be the center of attention.”
He acknowledged the compliment in his customary way. “Very true,” he said, “but I still believe that the house should not be moved as often as it has been. We placed it properly and that is where it should remain.”
When we made it to the Red Room, we were both surprised to find the gingerbread house against the east wall. “Where’s the fountain?” I asked, turning in a circle to look for it.
Marcel wasn’t paying me much attention. “Look at what they have done,” he said, pointing to the house’s back corner. “The clumsy fools!”
I rose to tiptoes to peer where he was pointing. “I don’t see anything wrong.”
“I took great care to cover the wiring with special décor,” he said, huffing. Tugging his tunic, he straightened and informed me that he would see to repairs at once.
The moment he was gone, I looked again. A small green wire winding around the back of the structure had poked out from the white, snowy groundcover. Unless you were looking for it, it could easily go unnoticed. But Marcel was a perfectionist. As were we all around here.
I poked into the Blue Room and into the State Dining Room, but saw no sign of yesterday’s gusher. I knew that was not my concern; I needed to worry about providing food for our guests, making sure whatever we served was properly hot or cold, and ready to go precisely when the guests were shown to the State Dining Room. Marcel would accept accolades for his gingerbread creation and I would be expected to discuss the items we planned to serve today and for all other events throughout the holidays.
This would be my first Christmas talk to the media. Henry had always handled these and he’d told me they were a piece of cake-sometimes literally. Just as sweet and easy to enjoy. But nervous flutters danced in my stomach and I doubted I could handle any sort of cake right now. Having it or eating it.
I hadn’t noticed the gingerbread men when Marcel and I were in the Red Room, because I’d been first taken aback by the fact that the house had been moved, and then my attention had been further drawn by Marcel’s concerns about the visible wire.
Yi-im was back, evidently having been dispatched to make Marcel’s repairs. He nodded to me as I came in. “See?” he said, pointing to the three Blanchard gingerbread men. They were positioned on the wall just above the gingerbread house, each of them connected to the house by means of a stick that resembled the little poles on the structure’s corners. I was amazed yet again by the quality of the workmanship.
“This looks great,” I said. “Thank you.”
Even though I’d asked Yi-im to make sure the kids’ creations were placed properly, I was no longer sure it mattered that they sat in such a place of honor. With Blanchard’s pronouncement that he would no longer visit the White House, the pretty little decorations weren’t doing that much good now.
As I inched to take a closer look at the piece, Yi-im moved me away. “Marcel say no one come close. Only me.”
Annoyed, I stepped back, although I understood the mind-set. Fewer people messing with Marcel’s handiwork meant fewer chances for things to go wrong. I stepped back, hands up. “You’re the boss.”
He grinned, showing teeth. “Yeah. I boss today.”
Kendra’s heels clipped at a brisk pace, and I heard her call out instructions to her staff even before she walked in from the adjacent Blue Room. “Ollie,” she said. “Ready for the cameras?” A quick look at her watch. “Just a couple of hours away from the big unveiling.”
“Ready as I can be,” I said.
She pulled a tight breath in between her teeth and gave a mock shiver. “I always get so nervous right before a big event. Really, you’d think this was my first time doing this, wouldn’t you? But what a feat we’ve pulled off, huh?”
“What happened to the fountain?” I asked.
“That electrician said he couldn’t fix it where it was, so he took it downstairs to the shop. Last I heard there was nothing they could do to get it in place on time. I ordered a replacement, but that’s not here yet either.” Her smile wilted. “Looks like we’re going fountainless, after all.”
“What a shame,” I said.
She leaned in toward me. “To be honest, I was having nightmares about splashing and spillage. This may be a blessing in disguise.”
About an hour later, I was checking on early lunch preparation down in the staff cafeteria when I happened upon Curly working on the very fountain Kendra and I had discussed.
He was on his hands and knees looking up into the underside of the contraption, scowling, as usual. I thought he looked like a little boy sent to sit under a table for punishment.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He didn’t acknowledge me.
I crouched next to him. “I thought Manny was fixing this.”
“You are a nosy thing, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice breathless as he rearranged himself to sit. I saw why in a moment. The new position allowed him freedom to lift his hands over his head and access the fountain’s inner workings.
Nonplussed, I scooted forward until I could see underneath as well. “I didn’t realize this was all one piece,” I said.
He brought his hands down. “What the hell do you want with me?”
“You really want to know?”
“You’ve been dancing around, pointing your finger at me since Gene got himself killed,” he said. “You trying to get me to say it was my fault?”
“No, I-”
“Because it wasn’t my fault.”
“I never thought it was.”
“You don’t know a socket from a volt ohmmeter,” he said. “How the hell can you come to me and start asking me about electrical problems? You think I’m glad Gene got killed? You think I wanted his job? You think I arranged that?” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth and, despite being in a confined space, he gestured wildly.
“No, of course not,” I said.
He mumbled to himself, looked away, and began working over his head again. Then as though he just thought of something, he tapped the fountain’s underside. “You were there when this thing broke down, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“And you swear you saw this thing shoot water to the ceiling.”
“Just short of the ceiling.”
“But you swear you saw it.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
“Well, there ain’t nothing wrong with this here fountain,” he said. “What kind of game are you playing, anyway?” he asked. “What do you want from me?”
“All I ever wanted from you,” I said in a clear voice, “was to answer one question. And before you shut me up again, here it is: A friend I trust has been an electrician for more than fifty years. He told me that more than one expert has been killed by floating neutrals. We had that storm the day of Gene’s accident, remember? My friend just suggested I ask you to check to make sure the White House is safe. All I ever wanted from you was to make sure the house was safe. Okay?”