Fonduing Fathers (22 page)

Josh’s mood rose as I talked. “If we make adjustments then it becomes our recipe, doesn’t it?”

“It can,” I said, carefully. “We’ll see what we do with it. It will be a learning experience for both of us.”

“When can we start?”

I was about to answer when Agent Quinn came into the kitchen, stopping short when he spotted the First Lady and Josh there. “Ma’am,” he said to her. He gestured the way he’d come. “I didn’t realize we had members of the First Family down here. I’ll come back another time.”

“Hang on, Agent Quinn,” I said. This was perfect. I could wipe out Cyan’s and Bucky’s romantic intimations right now. “You were looking for me earlier?” I asked. Without giving him a chance to respond, I continued, “Is it about returning my disguise?”

Agent Quinn seemed struck dumb by my question. “No, Ms. Paras. I’ll be back later.” He did a quick turn and was out of the kitchen before I could say another word.

“That was odd,” Cyan said. She grinned at Bucky, who sent me a meaningful smirk.

“I’m sure he’ll be back,” he said.

I was a little rattled. I had no doubt my staff’s matchmaking radar was way off, but having a Secret Service agent coming to talk was disconcerting nonetheless. I’d had enough experience to know that they rarely came bearing happy news.

Forcing my mind back to the present, I turned back to Josh. “Let’s do this right after lunch, shall we? If that’s okay with your mom.” I glanced up.

Mrs. Hyden raised a finger over Josh’s head. “That’s fine
with me,” she said, “but I would like a moment of your time,” she used the same finger to point the way Quinn had departed, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

I followed her out, wondering what was up. She took a quick left and walked briskly to stand outside the kitchen service elevator. “What can I do for you?” I asked.

She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Josh is having a tough summer,” she said. “Abby has made new friends out here and, being thirteen, she’s begun to view Josh as more of a nuisance than an endearing little brother.”

Exactly as Doug had described, I thought.

The look on the First Lady’s face was resigned. “I knew this day would come, and I don’t blame Abby. She spends time with him, but most days she’d rather be giggling with her friends. I get it. I was her age once.” Her bottom lip twisted with wry humor. “Too long ago to mention.” She shook off the thought, continuing, “The worst part of it is, Josh hasn’t had the same kind of social success Abby has. He’s made a couple of friends, but…” She sighed. “This hasn’t been an easy adjustment for him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Can I help in some way?”

“You already have. Whenever Josh comes back upstairs after working with you, he’s full of energy and back to his normal, cheerful self. You’ve been a great role model for him. Last week, the days you were off were tough for him. Because we have to be so careful all the time, he’s become a lonely little boy.”

My heart broke. I instinctively glanced back toward the kitchen, wanting to rush in there right now and tell Josh he was the greatest kid I’d ever met. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“I know it isn’t part of your job description to keep Josh busy…”

“I’m happy to have him down here,” I said sincerely.

Her frown lines softened. “Thank you, Ollie,” she said. “Even if Josh changes his mind and decides to be a
firefighter or a baseball player when he grows up, I know he’s benefiting from being around you.”

That had to be one of the most gratifying things anyone had ever said to me. My mouth went dry with surprise. “Thank you,” I said. “But it really is my pleasure. He’s a great kid.”

“I think so, too,” she said with a smile.

It probably wasn’t my place, nor any of my business, but the moment was right. “Has…” I faltered, but pushed through anyway, “has his dad had any change of heart about Josh’s interests?”

Mrs. Hyden wrinkled her nose and in that unguarded instant I saw her more as a contemporary—a friend sharing a disappointment—than as First Lady. “Not really, but I have hope. He’s been busy lately and isn’t able to see what Josh is working through. I believe, in time, however…”

She let the thought hang. I nodded my understanding.

She slid a hand down the side of my arm. “Thank you, again. For everything.” She and I walked back to the kitchen, where she collected Josh. He promised to return immediately after lunch for our cooking lesson. When they left, I realized she hadn’t asked me to keep our conversation confidential, hadn’t asked for my word that I wouldn’t talk about the president or his son to others. She trusted me.

I turned to my team. “Okay, what’s next?” I asked with a particularly full heart.

JOSH AND I HAD SPENT THE BETTER PART OF an hour slicing cheeses to sample before we settled on a combination. While we waited for a batch of Gruyère to soften, I’d had fun explaining a few tricks of the trade to my star pupil. Little things, like how to clean up as you go, how to turn vegetables into fun garnishes, and why we always rinse dishes in hot water. Bucky and Cyan had gotten into the spirit and by the time Fondue Combo Number Seven, as we so cleverly named it, was ready, the four of us were laughing and sharing war stories with an enraptured Josh.

After Virgil had served lunch, he’d disappeared from the kitchen. I was thrilled to have him gone while Josh was here. While the moody chef must have engendered some good will with the family that had prompted them to bring him to the White House, he clearly chafed under my authority.

“Look at this,” Josh said, dipping a palm-tree carrot into the creamy cheese.

I wagged a finger at him. “What have I told you about playing with your food?”

“That’s how you learn what works and what doesn’t,” he answered with no small degree of pride.

“Exactly.”

From the doorway behind me, a very familiar voice. “Ms. Paras, a moment of your time?”

I turned to see Gav there. “Special Agent Gavin,” I said, feeling my cheeks go pink. I hoped to heaven that Cyan and Bucky were paying more attention to Josh than they were to me. I’d have a hard time explaining my schoolgirl blush.

“A situation has developed,” he said. “Can I pull you away from your duties for a few moments?”

“Of course.”

He pivoted and strode out of the room. I wiped my hands on a nearby towel, then pulled my apron off.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked under his breath. “You really are in trouble again, aren’t you?”

I gave a helpless shrug and told the truth. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

He stared at the doorway then back at me. “Whenever that guy shows up, I know you’re in deep. Be careful.”

I could detect no underlying subtext leading me to believe he thought anything about Gav other than his being an agent who occasionally brought chaos into our lives. “I always am,” I said.

When I made it out into the hall that surrounded the kitchen, Gav gestured to follow him across the center hall into the Map Room. “Sorry to pull you away,” he said, after closing the door behind us.

“This is unusual,” I said. “What’s happened?”

“I have a meeting across town this afternoon,” he said. “I won’t be reachable for most of the evening.”

He could have told me that over the phone. “Okay,” I said.

His voice dropped and he spoke so softly I could barely
hear him, even in this quiet room. “My friend Joe wants to see us tonight.”

I stopped myself before asking, “Yablonski?” because I knew Gav wanted to keep this collaboration as private as possible. While staffers weren’t prone to eavesdropping, it never hurt to be careful. “But you just said you’re busy tonight.”

“Which is why you’ll have to go on your own.”

“I have no idea how to get out there again,” I said. “Remember, last time I was paying more attention to the files than I was to the directions.”

He shook his head. “New rendezvous point.”

“Where do I go?”

“You’ll be contacted.”

I gave him my best “Are you kidding me?” look. “What, is this some kind of thriller movie now? Do I have to worry about being tailed?”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “There’s always the risk of people following Joe. Some good guys, some not. Fortunately, no one will be watching your movements—at least, none that we know of.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I’m not all that important, isn’t it?” I asked, a little chagrined.

“I would never say that.”

“Thanks,” I said, still in a complete state of disbelief. “Who will contact me, or is that a state secret?” My voice had risen, and I strove to quiet it. “Sorry. It’s just that I don’t fancy having some breathy stranger jump out of the shadows because he’s been sent to talk to me.”

Gav’s grin widened. “That’s exactly why he will have a code word.”

This was almost too much, even for me. It was hard not to laugh. “Which is…?”

“Balloons.”

I must have reacted because he quickly added, “I came
up with it. I kept thinking about that old shower curtain…”

“Maybe we should have left it where it was,” I said uneasily.

“No, I want the new one. It’s a good change.”

Wow, weren’t we the demonstrative couple?

“When will I be contacted?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s still being arranged.”

I resigned myself to tonight’s covert meeting, wishing Gav would be able to be there, too, but knowing I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own. Joe Yablonski might be a tough old bird, but if Gav had that much respect for him, he had to be okay.

“You’ll call me when you get in tonight?” I asked.

We both jumped as the Map Room door opened.

“Thank you, Ms. Paras,” Gav said, brusquely. “I will let you get back to your duties.” Smoothly, Gav greeted our guest. “Agent Quinn,” he said without inflection. “We were just finished here.”

Quinn seemed as uncomfortable stumbling upon us as I felt being caught. “Nice to see you again, Agent Quinn,” I said, still very curious about what he’d wanted to talk about earlier. “I know our conversation got cut short this morning.” I waved into the open room as we moved to depart. “Whenever you’re done with your business in here, feel free to stop by the kitchen again.”

He wore a disconcerted look. What was up with that? Could Bucky be right? Had I inadvertently gotten into trouble again? It wouldn’t be the first time I was the last to find out. Was Virgil right? Was Quinn interested in me? “My apologies, again,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He left the room, his business there forgotten. “Good luck tonight,” Gav said. “Let me know how it goes when you can.”

“I will.”

BUCKY AND CYAN LEFT AT FIVE. I STAYED TO assist Virgil plating the Hydens’ six o’clock dinner, which went off without a hitch. I had to give my colleague credit. Everything he’d prepared looked great and smelled even better. Once we’d cleaned up after ourselves, Virgil packed himself up and thanked me for staying to help.

Maybe there was hope for him yet.

I tugged off my apron, changed out of my work attire, and dillydallied a bit, double-disinfecting the countertops and making sure the place was pristine before shutting off the lights. I leaned in the doorway for a moment, looking around. Mornings and evenings were the best times; everything was quiet. Days like this one were rare. There were no political upheavals or major catastrophes in progress and everything in the world felt right.

How long would that last?

I pushed off the wall, ready to depart for the night. As I turned to leave, I jumped. “Agent Quinn,” I said when the man appeared in front of me.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

I remembered Gav’s instructions about being contacted later tonight, but I didn’t believe another five minutes would make much of a difference. “Sure,” I said, “what’s up?”

One of the maintenance staffers zoomed by, rolling an empty laundry bin. “Excuse me,” he called, causing me to step out of the hallway that rimmed the kitchen and back into the dim room.

Quinn scratched his head. For a Secret Service agent, he was a lot less sure of himself than most.

I noticed for the first time that he was carrying a diplomatic pouch and a file folder. “It’s a good thing I caught you,” he said. “This came for you this afternoon and it’s marked ‘Urgent.’” He handed the pouch to me.