The Willard (18 page)

“A lot of doors have been slammed here over the years. You should have been here just before the Civil War when we had to keep Northerners and Southerners on separate floors. You’ve never heard such door slamming.”

Olivia looked at him for a laugh, but he didn’t offer one. Then she remembered he was serious. He had been here during the Civil War. She shook her head in disbelief.

“Either way, it seems I have two problems on my hands now. One is whether or not my grandparents will get to be my grandparents and the other is this woman, whoever she is, who has such importance to the movement. The day is almost over. How am I supposed to find her?”

“Olivia, I think you
have
found her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. The woman in question is supposed to be valuable to the movement, but also to the future for women in other ways. Your grandmother is a Philadelphia Webster. She could be invaluable to the movement as she carries with her a cachet because of her name and her background. If she really believes in this cause that can be priceless. On the other hand, she’s of tremendous value to women of the future outside of the movement.”

“How so?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Think about it. Your work with your husband’s company brought millions of dollars to female-led companies all over the world, not to mention helping to break through the glass ceiling for women executives.”

“Edward, I didn’t have to break the glass ceiling. I married it. I’m no pioneer for women. I just had a wonderful husband who was an excellent businessman and he taught me.”

“Maybe he did help you learn, but you’ve gone far beyond those initial days. He’s been gone for years and you’ve
not only grown the company, but also created the institute and given hundreds of millions of dollars to charity.”

“Yes, but this movement is about empowering women and I’ve never thought of myself as an activist. I’ve just done the best I could with the extraordinary opportunities I’ve been given.”

“I think you’re being too modest. In your charitable work alone how many micro-loans have you made possible for women in poor countries to operate a business to put food on the table for their children?”

“That’s just a—”

“I’m not finished, Olivia. How many children have been inoculated? How many girls have gone to college? For that matter, how many have gone beyond basic reading and writing training in some countries? And none of this takes into consideration all the women I know you’ve mentored along the way.”

“It’s dangerous to believe one’s own press, Edward.”

“Not when it’s all true, Olivia. And all of it is.”

“Are you saying you think I was brought here to make sure my own grandmother marches in a parade and also manages to marry my grandfather so I can one day be born? That sounds awfully self-important considering how many groundbreaking women will be part of this event.”

“It doesn’t matter how it sounds, I believe it is absolutely the reason you’re here. When I got this assignment I just knew it had to be you, but I couldn’t understand why the feeling was so strong. Now I know. This is more than history. It’s personal. And you have to get this done right.”

Olivia was quiet for a moment and Chase could see the look of concern on her face.

“That may be easier said than done,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure my grandmother has just decided she hates my grandfather and I have no idea where he went.”

“As you know, there is a fine line between love and hate and sometimes the fire of one can ignite the passion of the other. I believe you will find Mr. Asher relaxing in Peacock Alley where he is desperately trying to figure out what just happened to a perfectly lovely conversation.”

“I suppose I’ll start with him. I never knew him, but I knew my grandmother well and she was not one to back down easily from an argument. Let’s hope my grandfather has a bit more of the peacemaker in his nature.”

C
HAPTER 35

CATHERINE PARKER

1865

“I beg your pardon, ma’am.” The apology came from a scruffy man sitting against the wall leading to the staircase. He had his legs out in front of him and Catherine had tripped and nearly fallen. The man pulled his legs under him and allowed Catherine to pass. She could hardly believe her eyes.

In college, Catherine had taken an independent study course that involved a week of seminars in Washington and during that time she had taken the public White House tour. She knew from the tour that she was standing in Cross Hall and that the stairs led to the part of the house known as the residence. Normally, a Marine guard stood sentinel at the foot of the stairs and although it looked like he was the only thing between the hoi polloi and the first family, everyone with a brain knew there was no way to get up those stairs without the Secret Service coming out of the woodwork and suggesting you might be better off turning around. Like now. If you valued your life.

But now there was no guard and the stairs were filled with people coming down and going up and some just lounging and having conversations. She took a tentative step and then another and when no alarm bells went off she picked her way up the stairs, dodging the mass of humanity that seemed to have
business with the president. At the top of the stairs she was greeted with another unbelievable scene. There were people everywhere and they were casually seated on the furniture and the floor or wherever there was a place to rest. She found a place against the wall and listened to their conversations.

“Yessir, I came down from Pennsylvania as soon as I heard it. That ole’ Lee, man I wish I could have seen his face. He ain’t so proud now, is he?” Mr. Pennsylvania grinned a gap-toothed smile and spit—yes spit—into a contraption that seemed to be there for that purpose. “My boy’ll be home any day from the fightin’ in Kentucky and I aim to get him one of them jobs carryin’ the mail.”

Another man wearing a suit that was several sizes too large kept combing his oily hair across his forehead and shifting from one foot to the other. He seemed very nervous. Catherine heard him say, “I’ve slept here the last two nights and I got to see the president today. I got a idea that’ll keep these free nigras in line but we got to get it goin’ fore any more get to Ohio.”

Their conversations were varied, but all had come to get something from the president. Most wanted a job, but some wanted land they believed would be seized from the defeated South. Catherine mingled about the room for a couple of hours, but she never saw the president and the line of people to see him kept growing. She decided this idea was getting her nowhere.

Did I really walk over here expecting to see Abraham Lincoln walk through the door? Or maybe Mary Lincoln walking about and talking to everyone about seeing a play tomorrow night?

The absurdity was almost too much, but as Catherine stepped back outside and smelled the unmistakable stench of nineteenth century urban sanitation and heard the cacophony of horses and wagons beating against the rutted dirt roads she knew she had to keep going. Absurdity be damned.

C
HAPTER 36

TOM KELLY

1962

Tom’s comment about the president being viewed as a coward had sucked all the air out of the room. President Kennedy broke the tension with his response.

“I think you might be right about the way they view us, Mr. Kelly. Unfortunately, that means we run the risk of this degenerating into a schoolyard pissing contest, which is no way to determine the fate of the modern world.”

The others nodded in agreement and the president continued. “How do we overcome the bravado element without weakening our position?” Tom started to respond, but the president cut him off. “Because make no mistake, as horrific as I find this situation, I cannot let their provocation go unanswered. This country will not tolerate a bully in our backyard. He must retreat to his corner.”

“Yes, Mr. President, he must. He’s made a grand statement by secretly placing these weapons off our coast and in doing so he’s shown the Communist world that he’s out in front and carrying a big stick. He needs a way to back down without losing face. He can’t look weak in front of his countrymen. They would never forgive weakness.”

Robert Kennedy spoke up. “Mr. President, we’ve talked about this possibility since the start of the crisis. Khrushchev thought he could park his nukes in secret, but now that they’ve
been discovered he’s so far out on the limb he’s got to show resolve and strength. We need to offer him a way to let the air out of his balloon without sacrificing the dignity of a country whose main currency is national pride.”

Bundy was nodding his agreement. “To be victorious we can’t appear to be the victors.”

“Gentlemen, this is not new thinking. We are already working through our confidential sources and back-channel contacts to communicate with the premier,” Director McCone advised.

“Your system is compromised,” said Tom.

McCone spun on his heels and leaned toward Tom with his finger just inches from Tom’s face. “How in the world could you possibly know if our system is compromised, which it is NOT, I might add!” McCone turned to address the president directly. “Mr. President, with all due respect, we’re wasting our time with this nonsense. My men know what they’re doing and this is not a movie we’re talking about.”

Tom knew his credibility was on the line so he laid it all on the table.

“I know your system is compromised because two years ago I breached it myself.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure who appeared more stunned, the President of the United States or the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. And things were about to get worse.

C
HAPTER 37

CALVIN WALKER

1963

The handwritten speech Dr. King gave Calvin to read talked about how his people had been given a bad check by the American government and about the importance of fighting this battle with dignity and the need for self-discipline.

He touched on what it would take to satisfy an entire race of people that justice belonged to them and likened that experience to the rushing of a mighty stream.

Most symbolically, he spoke of his own children and how he longed for them to be judged by who they were and not by how they looked.

Calvin knew the words by heart. He had studied the famous speech in college and been impressed with the preacher’s zeal with which it was both written and delivered. Reading it here in its unfinished form he could already hear the reaction of the crowd, the pauses and the inflection, and the growing tenor of Dr. King’s voice as he led up to the iconic peroration that would electrify all who heard it.

There were tears in Calvin’s eyes as he finished reading the draft. The line that he loved about the ringing of freedom from his beloved Lookout Mountain in Tennessee wasn’t in there yet, but the night was still young and he knew it would find its place. Growing up in Chattanooga, he had visited Lookout Mountain many times and when he was there he always thought of that line and how much the actions of those brave pioneers of
the 1960s had changed the life he knew. In his time, freedom did indeed ring from Lookout Mountain. Calvin was nearly overcome with emotion.

Dr. King saw the tears in Calvin’s eyes.

“Please, Dr. King. Don’t change a word you’ve written here. When you deliver this speech tomorrow people of all races will hear in it the most compelling argument for freedom ever spoken.”

The pastor was touched by Calvin’s response. He thanked him and when Calvin reached to hand back the pages Dr. King held up his hand.

“Keep them. Those have already been typed. I hope this speech means as much to those who will hear it tomorrow as it has to you tonight.”

You have no idea
, Calvin thought.

As he bid King and his entourage goodnight and the door closed behind him he was jolted back to the reality of what he had to do. He held the proof he needed in his hands. Now he just had to convince Kifo that he wanted to kill Dr. King in order to save him and to save the movement.

Calvin had a fleeting thought that if any of this was, in fact, a dream it was quickly turning into a waking nightmare.

C
HAPTER 38

OLIVIA FORDHAM

1913

Olivia found James sitting in a chair in Peacock Alley just off the main lobby as Chase had said he would be. He looked despondent. His neckwear had been loosened and he was slouching in the chair rubbing his temples. Olivia could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. When he saw her approaching he stood to his feet and straightened his tie.

“Mrs. Fordham, please allow me to apologize again for causing you such distress. And I insist on taking care of any charges for the cleaning or replacement of your clothing. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

She waved her hand as though it was nothing. “Please, Mr. Asher, don’t give it another thought. That outfit was not one of my favorites and now I have a perfectly good excuse for a shopping excursion for which I will not allow you to pay. It was simply an accident and I fear I wouldn’t have done any better with the motorcar,” she said with a smile.

James thought it an odd statement as everyone knew ladies did not drive motorcars, especially ladies of Mrs. Fordham’s class who were ferried about by their drivers. He let it go because everyone knew women of a certain age could be eccentric and he imagined she was old enough to be afforded the kind of kid-glove treatment one might offer to a senile aunt. She sat and motioned for him to do the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation you were having with Miss Webster.”

A black cloud seemed to pass over his face as he answered. “Yes, it was a most unfortunate turn of events. I’m not certain why she got so angry with me.”

“Do you think it could have been that you made light of her views on the issue of suffrage for women?”

“Oh, I didn’t think she was terribly serious about such a thing. A girl of her standing is unlikely to be so inclined, don’t you think?”