“You were the first child born to any of them and you’re like the big sister to us all. It’s only natural you feel a stronger bond to the company. You were there when Zendy was created.”
She gave a light laugh. “Zendy was conceived when I was about five. Then Helen was born, then Nick, and then years later, you.” A long pause. “Can’t you see how wrong it is to give her up? Zendy Industries is like our sister. We can’t just sell her to the highest bidder.”
“Some of us have plans, Elaine.”
“Like a run for the presidency?”
I couldn’t hear Blanchard’s answer, but I detected sarcasm in Mrs. Campbell’s tone when she said, “Isn’t that comforting?”
Cyan turned off the water and dried her hands. Thank goodness. Now I could hear.
Blanchard’s next words were clear, and no longer held their customary friendly charm. “Let me be clear on this,” he said. “You may believe that selling Zendy Industries is akin to cutting off a sibling. But by not selling, you will cut us off. You know as well as I do that Nick is about to blow. Helen is quiet, but she’s unhappy with your decision. As for me, I cannot condone your decision. If you choose to keep Zendy, you thereby choose to dispose of my friendship.”
Mrs. Campbell’s sharp intake of breath preceded her question. “What are you saying, Treyton?”
I couldn’t help myself; I had to peer in.
He stood, hands up. “You leave me no choice. Unless you change your mind. Unless you choose your flesh-and-blood friends over the pie-in-the-sky aspirations of our fathers’ company, I will no longer support you.” He licked his lips. “And I will no longer support your husband.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“No, Elaine. That’s how important this sale is to me.”
When he glanced in my direction, I ducked away. But I’d heard enough. What pressure they were putting on the First Lady and at such a difficult time in her life. Had they no sense of honor, of decency?
Treyton Blanchard left, informing Mrs. Campbell that he would no longer consider himself a regular guest at the White House.
She pressed him, and I heard his parting words. “It has become apparent that my own aspirations conflict with your agenda. It no longer behooves me to keep company with you or with your husband.”
He added: “With that in mind, my family and I will not be present at the opening ceremonies tomorrow.”
“Treyton,” Mrs. Campbell said.
“Good night, Elaine. I hope you sleep well believing your goals and dreams are superior to those of the rest of us.”
Whispering, Cyan made a face. “Well, I guess we know what the next primary race will look like.”
In a rush I could see it play out: Treyton Blanchard would indeed make a run for the presidency. And if I were any judge of character, I believed he’d start the process sooner rather than later.
The jerk. Whether he cared or not, Senator Blanchard had just lost my vote. Permanently.
THE RED ROOM WAS NOT DIRECTLY ON OUR way back downstairs, but I pulled Cyan with me to see how great the gingerbread house looked in its setting.
Kendra and her assistants were there, adding liquid to the champagne fountain.
Cyan stepped closer to the tall device, which sloshed when two assistants inched it closer to the wall. “Is that champagne in it now?”
Kendra laughed. “No, just water. I added a couple of gallons for testing. The reception starts at noon sharp and we don’t want anything to go wrong.”
Cyan and I were about to leave when Kendra called us to wait. “This is the first time I’m using this fountain,” she said. “We just took delivery on this one. Want to see it in motion?”
Since we were done for the night, I said, “Sure.”
Kendra looked like a little kid ready to blow out birthday candles.
The two assistants had pushed the fountain into place and one stood aside, ready to turn it on. “Should we lower the lights?” I asked.
Before she could answer, the assistant plugged in the fountain and Kendra leaned forward, fingering the switch. “I’m excited,” she said. “This one is bigger than the one we had before.”
She turned it on.
A loud rumble heralded the upsurge.
With a screeching rush, water shot high toward the ceiling, like an erupting volcano.
“Aaaack!” we all cried at once, lifting our arms above our heads. Water fell down on us all, a hard and fast rain.
The assistants ducked. Cyan cried out and turned away. Mouth open, Kendra was aghast. And dripping wet.
“Turn it off,” I said, reaching for the switch.
Kendra beat me to it. One second later, the rain ceased.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
“Look at the drapes,” I said. “Can we get someone in here to clean these up?”
Cyan’s red hair looked like a shiny helmet. “I’ll get housekeeping,” she said. And she was off.
Kendra held a hand to her mouth, surveying the sad scene.
My next worry was for Marcel’s gingerbread house. Fortunately, however, it was far enough away that it missed the sudden rain shower. “Thank goodness the fountain only had a couple of gallons in it,” I said.
“What’s wrong with this thing?” she asked.
I had no answer. “Good thing you tested it tonight.”
With a forlorn look around the room, she nodded. “This could have been a whole lot worse tomorrow.” She closed her eyes. “Champagne can get sticky.”
“This really isn’t too bad,” I said. “I think we bore the brunt of it. Look, the furniture didn’t even get winged.”
“You’re trying to make me feel better,” she said. “But what am I going to do for a fountain? It’s too late to get a new one at this juncture.”
Manny showed up just then. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Kendra explained and he seemed to take it all in stride. As I left them, I heard him say, “I’ll get this fixed in no time.”
CHAPTER 21
“TODAY’S THE BIG DAY,” BUCKY SAID UNNECESSARILY when he arrived the next morning at six. “What time did you get in?”
“Four,” I said.
He whistled. “I thought you said we were all caught up.”
I gave a so-so motion with my head. “We are. In fact we’re in great shape. I just…” I shrugged, unwilling to share my feelings with Bucky. Give him an inch and he’d probably take the opportunity to ask if I’d come in early to sniff for bombs. I wasn’t in the mood for his special brand of humor today. “I just like mornings here.”
“Me, too,” he said, surprising me with the sudden far-away expression on his face. “There’s something impossible to describe about this place, isn’t there?” As he tied an apron around his waist, he granted me one of his rare smiles. “Like knowing there’s endless potential here. Like knowing we can make a difference.”
Bucky never ceased to baffle me. One minute he would crab at nothing, the next he’d echo the very same protectiveness I felt about the White House.
“Exactly,” I said.
He walked over to the computer and wiggled the mouse, bringing the monitor back to life. “What’s the final count for today?”
I told him.
He whistled again. “What were they thinking when they invited so many?”
“Remember, this is a combined event. Everyone from Sunday’s cancellation and all of today’s invited guests as well.”
“Still,” he said, annoyance edging back into his voice. “We’re going to be working our tails off to keep the food going with that many hungry people.”
“Thank goodness it’s just finger food today.”
“But you’ll be upstairs for the photo-op, won’t you?”
I’d almost forgotten about that. “Yeah. Marcel, too.”
“Great,” he said. “Just what we need-to be shorthanded down here when we’re expecting a full house.”