By eight o’clock he was at the Pension Building to await the arrival of the first couple and the vice president. The building was lit up like a Christmas tree, with torches flickering outside and over a thousand electric lightbulbs illuminating the inside. Nathaniel scanned the crowds that had gathered to watch.

The vice president’s carriage arrived first, and Theodore Roosevelt looked typically boisterous as he sprang to the ground and then helped his wife from the carriage. Then came McKinley’s carriage, and Nathaniel turned his back to it as he scanned the crowds, looking for anyone who didn’t belong amidst the well-dressed partygoers.

From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Caroline as she straightened the first lady’s train after leaving the carriage. It appeared Caroline’s blowup with Ida had been smoothed over. He’d heard about it, of course. Everyone had heard about it, for neither lady bothered to lower her voice as the battle raged. There were no signs of stress today as Caroline and George walked a few steps behind the McKinleys toward the entrance of the building. She wore a gown of sapphire blue with cascades of ivory lace. He wished he had longer to admire her, but he had a job to do.

Music, laughter, and the scent of spiced drinks filled the air inside, but his gaze scanned the room in a pattern—all four corners of the ground floor, the corners of the ceiling, across all three balconies, and down the staircase. His gaze drifted across the guests, the ladies in shimmering fabrics and men in formal blacks.

Hours rolled by, alternating between dancing, a few speeches, and much laughter. Vague hunger pangs began tugging at Nathaniel around midnight. It was time for his twenty-minute break, and he switched positions with Sullivan. He grabbed a wedge of cheese and some grapes before escaping the crowd by heading to the top-floor balcony, where only a few people mingled.

One of them was Caroline. She stood at the railing, gazing at the crowded ballroom below. He gave in to temptation and joined her.

“You look quite dashing in your finery,” she said.

The collar was stiff and uncomfortable, but he liked that she noticed. They spent a companionable few minutes in total silence while he ate. Exhaustion was getting to them both, and it was nice to simply enjoy the silent comradery.

But eventually he asked the question that had been burning in his mind. “Are you and the first lady on speaking terms again?”

She grimaced. “We’ve locked horns before, but yesterday was a little more epic than normal.”

“What was it about?”

“She doesn’t like that I’m taking a week off to go to Cuba.”

He choked on a grape, and it took a moment to recover. “Oh, for pity’s sake. I don’t like it either.”

“Please don’t nag me too. I have to go.”