“He’s new,” the usher said, then closed the door behind him.
That said it all. Most of the staff at the White House had been there for decades, and outsiders were looked at with suspicion. The only reason Caroline had been welcomed was because she was an effective buffer between the staff and the difficult first lady.
“We’d better go,” Ludmila said as she reached for the hamper, but Caroline laid a hand on her arm.
“Please think about the school,” she said. “It will never be easier than now. You don’t yet have a husband or children demanding your time. I know it will be hard, but it’s the hard things in life that make us most proud. Use those classes to fight for your future. You won’t ever regret it.”
“I’m already so tired,” Ludmila said as she balanced the hamper on her hip. “School will only make it worse.”
But Caroline caught the flash of hope on the laundress’s face. No matter what it took, Caroline would help clear the path for Ludmila to nurture that spark of hope into a flame.
By the time Caroline arrived in the assembly room, the other forty-five people who worked in the residence had already gathered. They were cooks, ushers, cleaning crew, telephone and wireless operators, and mailroom clerks. Even the gardeners had come in for the meeting. Rows of chairs filled the room, all facing the podium and blackboard at the front.
Caroline scanned the crowd, looking for George, who sat near the back. “What’s this I hear about new security rules?” she asked as she took the empty seat beside him.
“Long overdue, if you ask me.” George’s modest title as the president’s secretary drastically understated his importance in the administration. From the moment she met George, he had seemed like Atlas as he carried the immense burden of the White House on his shoulders. He masterfully navigated the tricky Washington maze of politics and backroom dealing. It was George who had recommended Caroline for this position and helped her survive a baptism of fire working with Mrs. McKinley.
Caroline glanced at the dozen White House ushers lining the back wall. The term usher was deceptive. The men wore suits and ties, but they were actually building security. They carried side arms beneath their suits and walked the halls at all hours of the day and night to protect the White House.
“You think we need more security?” she asked, for she’d never been able to move around the building without seeing plenty of ushers on their rounds.
“I think the president needs more security,” George clarified. “He can’t stand having people hovering nearby and always travels alone when outside the residence. That needs to stop.”
A new man entered the room. Tall, slim, and dark-haired, he seemed chiseled to Caroline’s eye. He wore an ordinary suit, but there was nothing ordinary about the way his eyes studied the audience. He paced across the front of the room, constantly on the move as he absorbed every detail about the people in the chairs before him. His hands were in his pockets, his face revealing nothing, but each time someone moved, whether it was to change seats or simply to whisper to their neighbor, his gaze flicked in their direction. He was calm and measured, as though nothing could unsettle him, and Caroline liked that in a man. She lifted her chin to send him a warm smile of welcome, but he ignored it as he walked to the podium. Behind him gathered six brawny ushers.
“Good afternoon,” he said in a measured voice. “My name is Nathaniel Trask, and I will henceforth oversee all aspects of security in the White House.”
What kind of man used a word like henceforth? She hid a smile, rather liking his buttoned-down formality.
“Tourist hours for visiting the White House will be drastically curtailed, and sightseers will no longer be permitted to see the president.”
“Good luck with that,” George whispered in her ear. President McKinley was famous for his willingness to glad-hand with tourists and his unannounced jaunts downstairs to mingle with sightseers. He also liked to take the carriage out for impulsive moonlit rides with his wife. He would never tolerate such restrictions on his freedom, but the new man continued speaking.
“If any of you have business with outside vendors, I will need to see a list of their names forty-eight hours in advance. They will not be granted access to the White House without my authorization. I will screen all visitors who have business with the president or first lady.” He looked directly at Caroline and George as he spoke, as they had complete control over access to the first couple.
George stood. “Mr. Trask, may I simply submit a list of every member of Congress, the Senate, the Cabinet, and officers in the US military? The president meets with dozens of them every day, and I would not want to overwhelm your office.”
“I already have that list, Mr. Cortelyou. I also have the list of all the department officers, every ambassador and foreign legation, and members of the judiciary. Anyone else will need to be cleared with me.”
One of the cooks raised his hand. “I’ve been teaching my nephew how to bake. Does he need to be cleared?”
“He does. Personal visits to the residence will be curtailed, and no visitor may bring parcels into the building. Visitors meeting the president will be required to keep their hands out of their pockets and will have their belongings inspected before proceeding inside.”
Caroline’s mind whirled. This man was unreal. He wouldn’t last ten minutes with Ida McKinley before she kicked him out of the building. As he continued outlining the exhaustive new security procedures, she shifted in her seat. She’d give anything for a cigarette right now. She’d been trying to quit, but this job was stressful, and on days like this she longed for the momentary rush of calm that only a cigarette could deliver. She’d managed six days in a row without a single slip and fiddled with her beaded bracelet to soothe the fidgets.
When the meeting finally came to an end, she headed into the hallway alongside George.
“Do you think this new man has a prayer of success here?” she asked, for these rules seemed ridiculous. Instead of agreeing, George surprised her.
“I hope so,” he said. “Better security is long overdue, but the president’s popularity is based on his reputation as a man of the people. Walking behind a phalanx of bodyguards or inspecting people’s pockets will go against his grain, but it’s time. If Mrs. McKinley complains, you need to rein her in. I know she believes the entire world adores her husband and wishes only to strew rose petals in his path, but it’s not true. Do your best to support the new rules.”
She already had her hands full supporting Ida. Still, George’s instincts were good, and she would trust him, even if the thought of catering to these new security measures gave her a headache.
“I’ll meet you back in our office in twenty minutes to go over next week’s schedule,” she said, because as hard as she’d been trying, she really needed a cigarette right now.
Nathaniel gathered his notes following his presentation, but he glanced at the two secretaries as they left the room. The manner in which Mr. Cortelyou and Miss Delacroix embraced the new policies would set the example the rest of the staff would follow. As the people with the closest access to the president and first lady, he needed to recruit them to his side.
He stuffed his notes into his bag and hustled after them. By the time he got out into the staff hallway, Miss Delacroix was already gone, but the clicking of her heels could still be heard echoing up the eastside stairwell. There wasn’t much up there, but he filed it away for future reference as he chased down the president’s secretary.