by Julie Hyzy
“Neither can I, but there isn’t a lot we can do right now. It’s not like they’re giving us access to the kitchen.”
“Oh my God,” he said, his voice panicked again. “Minkus’s dossier.”
“What about it?”
“You know we had it-we had all the guests’ dietary dossiers on file before the dinner.”
“So?”
“I-” He hesitated. “Remember that salad dressing we used?”
I started to get a crawling feeling in my stomach. “The one you came up with the day before the dinner?”
I heard Bucky swallow. “I created that one at home. I thought it would be a good idea to put a little extra effort…” He began to hyperventilate.
“I’m not understanding the problem,” I said. “Bucky. Talk to me. Was there something in the food that-”
“I have his dossier,” he said. “Minkus’s dossier. I sent the file to myself at home so I would have all his dietary needs on hand. Here.”
“You kept a list of his dietary preferences,” I said slowly, to clarify.
“Yes, but-”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Unless he had an allergy and you didn’t-”
“Don’t you understand? The fact that I sent this information to my home computer will be suspect. They’re going to ask me why.”
I did understand. But I couldn’t react to the alarm I felt. “And you have a perfectly valid answer.” I took a deep breath and tried again. “We all take information home. I’ve done that myself.”
“But have you ever had a guest die before?”
I knew better than to answer. Bucky’s voice had notched up a few octaves and he sounded on the brink of a breakdown.
He made an incoherent sound. “They’re going to investigate and find this. They’re going to put me in a room and interrogate me. What’s going to happen? My career is ruined.”
“Bucky.” I said his name sharply. “Is it just Minkus’s dietary restrictions, or do you have the whole file?”
Misery wrung out every word. “The whole file.”
While we were never granted access to classified information, we occasionally were given guests’ entire files, rather than just a list of their dietary needs. It came in handy to know, for instance, if a guest spent years in South America, or Russia, or Japan. Little tidbits helped us design creative and enjoyable menus.
The first thing that came to mind was that Bucky was right. Pretty soon someone would notice that Minkus’s information had been sent from our kitchen to Bucky’s home. The second thing that came to mind was that I wanted a look at that file. Although we worked hard to never make even the slightest mistake, I wanted a closer look at the information we’d been provided. Having it on Bucky’s computer was too tempting to pass up. I was sure we hadn’t missed anything, but it would feel very good to reassure ourselves.
“Tell you what, Bucky, sit tight. Make a copy of the file, okay?”
I heard him click-clacking across his floor. “Don’t you think I’ll get in trouble if I do that?”
“Why should you?” I asked. “You’re a member of the White House kitchen staff. You have every right to information about the guests you plan to feed. Make a copy-or two-and I’ll come by later. We’ll go over it together.”
“When can you be here?” he asked. “How soon?”
I opened my mouth to say that I’d be right there, but I caught sight of Mom and Nana sitting in front of the television, with their spring jackets folded neatly on their laps, ready to shut off the TV just as soon as I hung up the phone. I couldn’t disappoint them. “I’ve got a few things I have to do.”
“Huh?” His voice squeaked. “I need help on this.”
Subscribing to his growing hysteria would only make things worse. “As do we all right now,” I said calmly. “Now sit tight and I’ll be over later.”
Bucky grumbled but we agreed on a time to meet. As I hung up I wondered if Tom would think this was “getting involved” in the case where I shouldn’t. But I would argue that this dossier was given to me and to my staff. We had every right to examine it again now, especially if doing so would help prove our innocence. Though Tom might disagree, he would be wrong.
No, I decided. This foray with Bucky couldn’t possibly come back to bite me.
CHAPTER 11
THE AFTERNOON DID CLEAR UP, AND WHEN the sun came out, so did some unseasonable warmth. My mom tied her pale blue jacket around her waist and pulled out her sunglasses as we strolled along the National Mall. Nana kept her pastel pink-striped jacket on, but she’d unzipped it, not just because the day was warming up nicely, but because it gave her easier access to her fanny pack. She, too, wore sunglasses-the wraparound kind to protect her recently repaired cataracts. Trailing behind my mom by a couple of steps, she studied the pamphlet we’d picked up at one of the Smithsonian buildings.
“There’s a lot we’re missing,” I said, as we walked west from the Capitol building. “Don’t you want to see the National Air and Space Museum?”
My mom shook her head. “It sounds a lot like the Museum of Science and Industry at home,” she said. “We can do that on a rainy day. Today I want to be outside and enjoy this beautiful scenery.”
Nana, shuffling behind us, said, “I want to see the Washington Memorial.”
“That’s Monument,” I said gently. “It’s the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. I made that same mistake when I first got here,” I said. “But a kind woman named Barbara set me straight.”
My mom turned around. “Do you and Tom come out here very often?”
I took a look at the blossoming trees, the clear blue of the sky, and the crowds milling around out enjoying the gorgeous day. When was the last time he and I had spent a day together just enjoying the beauty that surrounded us in our nation’s capital? I shook my head. “Not often enough.” There was so much here to be thankful for-so much to appreciate, and yet he and I were constantly pulled apart by our conflicting schedules. The last few times I’d been out here, I’d been on my own.
“Is that a carousel?” Nana asked, pointing behind us.
“Yeah,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t want to go for a ride.
“I bet the little kids love that.”
I thought about my own experiences with that carousel-and witnessing a murder-as I made a noncommittal reply. “It’s a long walk to see all the memorial exhibits. You sure you’re up for it?”
We stopped a moment to stare out toward the Washington Monument. “Says here it’s over 555 feet tall,” Mom said, taking her turn with the pamphlet. “Guess how much it weighs?”
“Weighs?” Nana asked. “Why? You planning to pick it up?”
“Take a look,” I said, pointing. “See that line? Where the color changes? They started building it in 1848 but ran out of money. It sat here for twenty-seven years before they started work on it again.”
The three of us stared at the tall white obelisk. With the sun almost directly overhead, we all had to squint. Tall, spare, stark, and circled by snapping American flags, it was a breathtaking sight.
“Hello again, ladies.”
We turned. My mom made a funny noise, halfway between a teenage squeak and a gasp of surprise. “Why, Mr. Kapostoulos,” she said. “How nice to see you.”
He smiled. “Please call me Kap. All my friends do.”
Kapostoulos had sidled up to us-sidled up to my mom, I should say-and was smiling a bit too much for a man whose best friend had died just three days before. I struggled to remember his first name-heck, I would have struggled to remember what “Kap” stood for. But Mom sure remembered.
“Nice to see you again,” I lied.
He nodded acknowledgment. Wearing a navy blazer, khaki-colored pants, and a blue striped tie, he looked more like a cruise director than someone in mourning.
“Enjoying our beautiful sights?” he asked, but before we could answer, he continued. “Have you been to the Lincoln Memorial yet?”
<
br /> “Not yet,” Mom said. “Is it as pretty as this is?”
“Each of the sights near here has its own beauty,” he said, with a meaningful gaze at my mom. “It’s worth spending time getting to know them all.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but there was no one to appreciate my discomfort. Nana had stepped closer to him, and I could tell she was sizing him up. I was disheartened by the deepening smile lines on her face.
“We should get going,” I said. “Lots to do, you know.”
“Perhaps I could accompany you,” Kap said, moving toward me. “It has been a while since I have had time to appreciate the magnificence of this area.”
“I thought you lived here,” I said.
“But I’ve been out of town for a long time.”
I couldn’t help the brusqueness in my tone. “I would think you’d be spending time with Ruth and Joel Minkus.”
My mom shot me a look from behind Kap. It was meant to reproach, but I didn’t care. Who was this guy? And why was he bothering us?
“Although Carl and I knew each other for many years, there is no love lost between me and Ruth.” He held out his hands as though in supplication. “But Joel and I get along very well. In fact, he informed me about how Ruth treated you yesterday when you saw her at Arlington.”
I started to scoot away, but Mom and Nana didn’t move.
“I would like to offer my apologies,” he said
“For what?”
“On Ruth’s behalf. She’s under considerable strain, and I’m sure she didn’t mean-”
“First off, no apology necessary,” I said. “Families in the midst of shock and grief aren’t always responsible for what they say”-I didn’t let him interrupt-“and second, I think it’s rather presumptuous of you to apologize on behalf of someone who you just admitted doesn’t care for you very much.”
He smiled. That bugged me.
“Now,” I continued, “we have to be going.”
“Ollie!” Mom said. She looked like a seventeen-year-old who was just informed of a ten thirty curfew.
“We have a lot to do,” I said.
“But if Kap wants to come along with us, I think it would be nice,” Mom said.
Nice?
As if given a great gift, Kap’s smile grew. I wanted to ask my mother what was wrong with her all of a sudden, but the words died on my lips. Kap pointed to something in the distance, which immediately captured Mom’s full attention. They started walking south, and I fell in behind them with Nana.
“What the heck just happened?” I asked.
She leaned in toward me. “Your mother’s been going through a tough time.”
“She has?” I stared down at her. “What kind of a tough time?”
Nana linked her arm through mine. “I’d call it a delayed midlife crisis, but that sounds too pat. She’s been moved out of the counselor job she loved at the women’s shelter into a position that’s far below her skills. They’re downsizing, or so they say. What’s really happening is that they’re pushing the older, well-paid workers out or into lesser jobs so that they get disgusted and quit. She used to be excited to go to work every day-to help people. Now she just sits at a desk and makes phone calls to raise money.”
“They made her a telemarketer?”
Nana nodded.
“She never told me.”
“Of course not.” Nana slid a look at the two of them in front of us. “And on top of it all, she’s been lonely, Ollie. Very lonely. I’m not the most exciting company, you know.”
“Nana…”
“It’s true. I’m still pretty active and I still volunteer at the hospital, but when your mom comes in from work I can see the dejection in her eyes. There’s nothing for her to look forward to anymore.”
“She has friends…” The image of Mom sitting in a dark room lit only by the flickering television flashed through my mind. “Doesn’t she?”
“Most of them are married, and they do couple things.” Nana shrugged, and then answered my unasked question. “Even though your mother has been on her own for a long time, things have changed for her now. It’s as though when she lost her job she lost a part of herself.”
I didn’t know if I could talk around the hard lump that had suddenly lodged in my throat.
Ahead of us, my mom laughed. Kap laughed, too, their heads leaning toward each other.
There was something about him that didn’t seem authentic, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. The two of them laughed again and my mom smiled at Kap in a way that made her look ten years younger.
Nana whispered-close to my shoulder. “This trip out to see you, Ollie, was all your mother talked about for weeks. It gave her something important to look forward to.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“In some ways, it’s nice that you don’t have to work while we’re here.”
I felt the now-familiar stab of disappointment. For fleeting moments, the horrible specter of Minkus’s death disappeared. But then it all came rushing back with a sharpness that made me suck my breath. “I wanted so much to show you the White House.”
“Your mother wants so much to spend time with you. Maybe all this is working out for the best.”
Nana’s arm in mine felt small, yet it was a comfort. She patted me. “Sometimes we just need to wait and see. Time will tell and before you know it, you’ll be back in the White House kitchen again, and everything will be back to normal.”
I bit my lip. Weren’t those the exact words I’d used to reassure Bucky just this morning?
“Thanks, Nana,” I said.
My mom hummed as she made us a late lunch back at my apartment. I’d offered to do the cooking-after all, that was what I did for a living and I wasn’t doing much of it these days-but she insisted. Said she wanted to take care of me while she still had the opportunity to do so. A pointed look from Nana warned me not to argue.
“So what did you and Mr. Kapostoulos talk about, Mom?”
He’d accompanied us to the Vietnam War Memorial and to the World War II Memorial, which Nana had particularly wanted to see. He spent most of his time chatting with my mom, leaving me and Nana to wonder about their conversation. At the World War II Memorial, after we’d walked around the expansive structure, he thanked us for sharing part of our day with him and he spoke briefly to my mom, alone.
“He prefers to be called Kap,” Mom said.
“Right.” I wondered if my smile looked as disingenuous as it felt. “So what did you talk about? Did he want to know all about your life history?”
“Not yet, not all of it,” she said with a sly smile. “But he did tell me that he encouraged Ruth to call and apologize to you for her outburst at Arlington yesterday.”
“He didn’t.”
“It seemed important to him.” She glanced at her watch, then at her purse on the counter.
“That’s all I need,” I muttered. A thought occurred to me. “Did he ask for your phone number?”
“Ollie. I don’t even have a phone number here. He knows I live in Chicago.”
“You have a cell phone.”
She turned away and went back to humming. Nana warned me with her look to stop asking questions. But I couldn’t let it go. “Did you give it to him?”
Finally, Mom turned. Her hair was pulled back, and her face was flushed, but she was smiling. She looked so pretty, so vivacious and so full of life. Kap had put that sparkle in her eyes just by paying her some attention. I sighed, knowing I should let it go. But I couldn’t.
“Yes, I did,” Mom said in a tone that dared me to object. She placed three bowls of tortilla soup on the table. They steamed with freshness and a hint of spice. I started in on mine and was immediately rewarded with a taste of home. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Nana kicked me under the table. I took another sip of soup and pretended not to hear.
Mom waited. Nana kicked me again.
“Nope,” I lied. “Not a
t all.”
“Good, because he and I are going out Friday.”
I opened my mouth in protest, but a third swift kick to my shin shut me up. Bending my head, I concentrated again on my soup.
“That’s wonderful, Corinne,” Nana said. “Where is he taking you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Mom,” I said, putting my spoon down, “we don’t even know this man. How do you know it’s safe to go out with him? He could be a masher.”
“A masher!” She laughed. “I used to use that line on you when you were a teenager.”
“Mom, I’m serious. You know nothing about him.”
“He was good friends with Carl Minkus,” she said. “A very famous NSA agent.”
“Yeah, and that famous agent is dead.”
She shook her head, but kept smiling. “You sound like an overprotective parent.”
“But you just met him.”
“In fact,” she added mischievously, “I think you’d make a great parent.” She fixed me with a glare. “Exactly when do you plan to give me grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
She always knew what buttons to push to circumvent an argument. I’d only finished about half my soup, but I stood up. “I’m sorry, this is great, but I’ll have it later. I promised to stop by Bucky’s house, and then I have dinner plans with Suzie and Steve.” I carried my bowl to the side to cover with plastic wrap before placing it in the fridge. “And I need to call Tom.”
Excusing myself, I blew out a breath. My mother knew we were on dangerous ground here. Marriage and babies were not something I cared to discuss. Not now at least. Maybe not ever. I didn’t see myself toting around tots anytime soon. My chosen career was in a male-dominated field and while all the rhetoric claimed that women could have families and maintain careers, too, I knew that in this extremely competitive arena I needed to hold tight to every edge I could wrap my enthusiastic fingers around. I’d been top chef here for a relatively short time. And as soon as the next administration took over, I could be out of a job. Kids were not on my horizon. The topic wasn’t open for discussion, and Mom knew it.
Her bringing it up when I pressed her about this Kap fellow was her attempt to strongarm me into silence. For now, it worked. But I’d figure out a way to talk with her about him. There was something about the guy I just didn’t trust.
