“The inauguration is going to be an exhausting day,” Caroline said. “I’ve made certain to keep the following week entirely free of commitments so you can rest.”

“Humph,” Ida said. “I’ll probably need the following month. All this inauguration folderol has been exceptionally draining.”

It was the perfect opening. “I feel the need for some time as well,” she began cautiously. “I’d like a chance to see my brother and will need a week to make that happen.”

“But your brother is right here in Washington,” Ida said in confusion. “You can see him at any time.”

“I was thinking of my other brother.”

Ida froze. “The one in Cuba?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not!” Ida’s voice cracked across the room so suddenly that Ludmila dropped a slipper. “It’s one thing to have a traitor in the family, but quite another to abandon your post on his behalf.”

“As a Christian, I feel compelled to visit the sick and impris—”

“Don’t ‘as a Christian’ me! That man is a traitor and a scoundrel and a turncoat. He deserves everything he gets!” Ida grabbed a slipper and hurled it across the room, narrowly missing one of the seamstresses. “I forbid you to leave your post. Forbid it!”

If Caroline caved before Ida’s tantrums, she wouldn’t have lasted a week in this job. She raised her chin and prepared to fight for what she needed. “I will fulfill every duty on Inauguration Day and will stay until the last—”

“You certainly shall! It’s the very least I can expect.”

That from a woman who’d spent the last two months knitting baby booties while Caroline slogged through ice and slush to find housing for six hundred visiting diplomats. Now she wanted seven days off, and she intended to get them.

“You can expect me to deliver a spectacular inauguration ceremony, a luncheon that will come off without a hitch, and an inaugural ball that will echo through the ages. After that, I’m sailing to Cuba for a week.”

Ida waved a finger beneath her nose. “You’re really pushing it, Miss Delacroix. Really pushing it.”

“And I’ll keep pushing it until I have my week of leave.”

The first lady threw the other slipper, this time knocking over a vase that crashed to the floor, scattering glass shards. A tap on the door interrupted her tirade, and a guard opened it without permission, his hand on the butt of his pistol.

“Is there trouble here?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Ida shouted. “I have a bratty and disloyal secretary, but I can handle her.”

“Not if you deny me leave to go to Cuba,” Caroline said. “I’ll quit, and you can find someone else who knows high fashion as well as me. Good luck!”

“I’ve been dressing myself for fifty-odd years,” Mrs. McKinley yelled.

“And you’ve never looked nicer than since I started shopping with you.”