Caroline froze, praying the baroness truly didn’t understand English, for the ambassador’s family came from Sicily. Behind her veil, the baroness swiveled to look at Caroline, her face perfectly blank as she awaited the translation. Caroline couldn’t tell an outright lie, but neither could she translate what Mrs. McKinley had just said. Both women looked at her with expectation, and Caroline chose her words carefully.

“Mrs. McKinley admired the architecture of Italy,” she said in Italian. “How clever the Italians are to have had modern conveniences like plumbing all the way back to the Renaissance. It was truly astounding.”

The baroness smiled and nodded, and the remaining few minutes proceeded without incident. Beneath her skirts, Caroline gently tapped Mrs. McKinley’s foot, signaling it was time to rise and end the call.

“That went quite well, didn’t it?” Mrs. McKinley pronounced once they were aboard the carriage and heading back to the White House. She didn’t wait for a reply before continuing her monologue. “Terrible tragedy about the king. Simply terrible. Nothing like that would ever happen to the Major, of course.”

Mrs. McKinley always referred to her husband as the Major, for they had met shortly after the Civil War, when Major William McKinley was still in uniform. Over the years he’d served as a congressman, a governor, and now the president, but his wife still called him the Major. Caroline thought it rather charming.

“The Major is too popular to ever arouse that sort of ire,” Mrs. McKinley continued. “Everyone likes him.”

“While it’s true that everyone likes him, that doesn’t mean they will vote for him,” Caroline said. She was veering into dangerous waters, but it had to be done. The presidential election was in four months, and despite William McKinley’s popularity, nothing could be taken for granted. He had been too busy with the duties of his office to campaign, and his wife never offered to help. She was the least popular first lady in history, and Caroline had been hired to help correct that image.

Working for Mrs. McKinley was like walking a tightrope. At any moment it could snap, but so far, Caroline had been able to support the infamously difficult first lady without allowing Ida to trample her. When in public, Caroline was the epitome of deferential respect, but in private their relationship shifted. They bickered, gossiped, laughed, and fought. The first lady even insisted Caroline call her Ida in private.

“I want to wear your sapphire earrings tonight,” Ida said.

“Why?” Caroline challenged. She and Ida regularly borrowed each other’s accessories, for they were both shamelessly vain when it came to fashion. Still, if Ida wanted a favor, she ought to ask nicely.

“Because the last time I wore them, the Major said they lit up my eyes.”

“Then buy your own sapphire earrings.”

Ida let out a bark of laughter. “You have no respect for your elders.”