“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said.
“Not at all. I’m hoping to be ready to serve at eight-thirty. Will that be all right?”
She nodded, and wandered into the kitchen. “I asked the butlers to set places for three, but now I understand that Treyton may bring Bindy along. Would it be too much inconvenience to prepare dinner for four, in the event she does show up?”
I’d brought extras up with me. One doesn’t get to be a top chef without preparing for such exigencies. “Not a problem,” I said.
Mrs. Campbell began opening cabinets. “Can you believe I haven’t yet figured out where everything is in here?” She gave a sad laugh. “I’m getting too used to having people wait on me all the time. I don’t think I like that.”
“Enjoy it,” I said. “We’re happy to be here.”
She had her back to me, two side-by-side cabinets open. “I’m glad you’re here, Ollie. I trust you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but Mrs. Campbell wasn’t finished.
“My husband and I don’t believe Sean took his own life. His mother doesn’t believe it either.”
I hadn’t expected her to talk about Sean, but I covered my surprise as best I could. She turned to me, tears swimming in her eyes. “You knew him, too. Maybe you saw something we didn’t see? Do you think it’s possible that… that he-”
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t.”
She graced me with a sad smile. “Thank you.”
Although I was often sorry for speaking out of turn, this time I really couldn’t help myself. “If I may say so…”
Mrs. Campbell inclined her head. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just want to tell you how much I admire your composure.” I groaned inwardly. Composure? There had to be a better word. That wasn’t what I meant and it was coming out all wrong. “Dignity, I mean. I admire the way you handle everything. What I mean to say is, Sean’s death has been so hard on you. On everyone…”
She flinched at Sean’s name, but her eyes urged me to continue.
“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to entertain all those women yesterday. And yet you’re still always…” I was trying hard to get my point across without babbling. Failing miserably. Summing up, I said, “You truly are the epitome of grace under pressure.”
Another sad smile. “When my husband agreed to serve our country by taking on the presidency, we knew we would be held to a higher standard than we had been as civilians. As First Lady, my actions have a ripple effect across the country.” She seemed to be speaking to herself. “It’s frightening in some ways, empowering in others. I realize the effect my actions have, and try to comport myself in a way that deserves emulation, no matter how hard the circumstances.” She squinted at me. “I see a lot of that trait in you, too, Ollie. We have a core”-she pulled both fists in, toward the center of her body-“that holds us steady even when the rest of the world is falling apart. You have the same strength you claim to admire in me. I just pray you never have reason to call upon it the same way I’ve found myself doing these past few days.”
I felt my face grow hot. Worse, I was speechless.
Mrs. Campbell must have sensed my surprised amazement. Without waiting for me to reply, she turned her back to me again and grabbed a stack of white bowls in the cabinets. “You can use these,” she said setting them on the table between us. “Like I said, I had dining places set out earlier. We can serve ourselves family style. After all, we are practically family. I’ve known Treyton since before he was born.”
One of her assistants peeked around the door to let Mrs. Campbell know that Blanchard had arrived. I secretly hoped Bindy wasn’t with him. If Mrs. Campbell was looking to share memories with an old friend, the last thing she needed at the table tonight was an ambitious political emissary who giggled whenever she got nervous.
IN FAIRLY SHORT ORDER I GOT ONE OF THE Campbell ’s favorite dinners started. Nothing fancy, a simple breaded lemon chicken served over angel hair pasta, with capers. The pre-course salad would be served with Bucky’s newest dressing. I’d pre-tested it myself and pronounced it wonderful. Dessert would be simple, too. Fresh sorbet, in hollowed-out oranges, waited in the freezer for a whipped cream and peppermint leaf garnish. The preparation took some effort, but I wanted to bring a touch of cheer to what promised to be a difficult evening.
I was so immersed in preparation that I didn’t notice Bindy until she called my name.
Startled, I glanced up, hoping as I reacted that my disappointment didn’t show.
“This is nice,” she said, walking into the kitchen. “I’ve never been in this room before.” She carried a plate, silverware, napkin, and crystal water glass. In addition, she held a diplomatic pouch under her arm.
“What’s going on?”
The disappointment on her face told the story before she could. “Treyton asked if I minded excusing myself.” She flushed. “How embarrassing. We thought this was supposed to be a real dinner, downstairs, with a few other people. I guess I should’ve…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m here. I’m stuck till it’s time to leave. Do you mind if I sit in here with you?”
She arranged her place settings on the table, as though preparing to be served. With care, she placed the package on the chair next to hers. “That’s for later,” she said cryptically.
I’d planned to clean up as soon as dinner was served, and then beat a path back downstairs. My estimated ten o’clock departure was looking ever more unlikely. “Sure,” I lied. “Have you eaten?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I’ve prepared plenty,” I said. “Let me just take care of them first, okay?”
If I’d expected an offer of help, I was mistaken. But in truth, I was glad. Preparing a dinner for this small group wouldn’t be difficult, and I’d rather do it myself than have to coach an amateur. Bindy sat at the table, watching me work, occasionally asking a question about preparation or presentation.
She had the good sense to speak in a whisper. Since we could hear most of the conversation going on in the next room, it stood to reason they would be able to hear us, too.
I wheeled out the salad, dressing, and bread, feeling more like I was serving my mother and nana at home than the president of the United States, his wife, and their guest. Meals in this home were usually served by tuxedoed butlers, amid much pomp and circumstance. Right now, in my tunic and apron, I felt positively slovenly.
“Good evening, Mr. President, Senator Blanchard,” I said, nodding to each of them and to Mrs. Campbell. The president greeted me by name and Blanchard smiled. I saw in him what most voters must have seen. He exuded charm and confidence-so much so that it almost seemed as if he had the power to dispel the house’s sad pall.
I set the food items on the table. “I’ll be in the next room, if you need anything.”
Having gone silent when I entered, they started conversation start right up again as I crossed the threshold into the adjacent kitchen.
“I know the timing is terrible,” Senator Blanchard said, “but this is the situation we’re faced with. This was brought on by our fathers. It’s unfortunate that we’re required to deal with their shortsightedness. Especially at a time like this.”
Bindy made a face that let me know she was as uncomfortable as I. “Salad?” I whispered.
She nodded, so I set one in front of her and used the remaining time to finish preparing the entrée. As she ate, I couldn’t help listening to the terse conversation in the next room.
“My wife has shown me the corporation’s financials,” President Campbell said. “Based on the company’s projected growth, I don’t understand why any of you want to sell right now.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Blanchard said, “but I believe my analysts have a better grip on the company’s financials than either you or I could hope to have. We are, after all, in the business of serving our country rather than wizards in the financial world.”