She reached for Nathaniel’s hand and smiled at Rembrandt. “Will you take our photograph?” she asked. This was a magical day, and she wanted to remember it forever.

“Certainly,” Rembrandt agreed, and began prowling for a level spot on which to place his tripod.

Nathaniel kept gazing out at the ocean with a quiet expression of awe. “It makes a person feel small, doesn’t it?”

Small but filled with immensity. “Yes,” she whispered. They had traveled from coast to coast, and soon they would turn around to head home, where Nathaniel would finally be free.

“September 15th is less than a month away,” she said.

“Twenty-six days.”

She smiled, glad he knew the exact number. “You must be looking forward to getting back to counterfeit.”

“Among other things.”

She loved his dry sense of humor, for his eyes gleamed as he sent her a look of pure admiration. If Rembrandt weren’t five yards away, she’d give in to temptation and steal a kiss.

“What could be more exciting than counterfeit?” she teased.

Again, that closed-mouth smile as he shrugged. “Sometimes I investigate fraudulent documents. Occasionally issues of banking records. All of it is very interesting.” He turned and gazed out over the sea with an expression of aching wistfulness. “But no matter what I do or where I am assigned, my heart will be with you.”

She leaned into the wind, savoring the sun on her face and the clean scent of the air. Whatever the future held, they would be together soon.

Nathaniel counted the days until he’d be free of the White House job, but as his day of liberation drew near, it seemed time slowed. He was constantly within yards of Caroline but couldn’t touch her. He dined with her, conferred with her to ensure the first lady’s comfort, and they even went sight-seeing together. They stole glances when no one was looking, and sometimes he secretly slipped a note beneath her dinner plate to tell her something silly or sweet.

He wouldn’t break his word to President McKinley by making advances toward Caroline until he was no longer working in the White House, but she was making it hard. In Los Angeles she bought a Spanish flamenco dress and modeled it for everyone in the dinner car, swaying to make the tiers of black and scarlet lace flare. A moonlight serenade had been planned in San Francisco, and Caroline managed to pawn the first lady off on Pina, allowing her to join the table where he sat with Rembrandt and the reporters. The way the candlelight illuminated her profile ought to have been captured by an artist.

They had a three-day stop in San Francisco, where he accompanied the president on the famed cable cars to visit the Japanese Tea Garden. Caroline was yards away the entire time, keeping them all amused with witty observations and flirtatious chatter.