Gray strode toward the War Department building, doing his best to show no emotion despite the tension roiling inside him. He needed to surrender most of this mission to the Larkins, and they’d have to play this hand of cards perfectly to succeed in painting the Magruders into a corner. Constantly at the back of his mind was the crushing thought that today might be the last time he ever saw Annabelle. She and her parents were leaving on tomorrow’s train, and she’d take a piece of his heart he’d never get back.

Like all government buildings in this part of Washington, the War Department was built to impress, with acres of gray stone gleaming in the sunlight. Inside it was just as impressive, but in a completely different manner. The columns, pilasters, and beams were constructed of wrought iron, and the woodwork was Honduran mahogany. Alcoves lined with iron provided benches for small gatherings.

Annabelle and her parents had already arrived. So had the Magruders. Father and son stood near the staircase, their heads bent in quiet discussion, but they’d noticed Gray’s arrival. Given the astonishment on Clyde’s face, he had no idea Gray would be here today. Gray nodded to the Magruders but headed straight toward the Larkins, all of whom looked out of place as they stood in one of the iron-lined alcoves. Maude had asked if they should wear the formal attire they’d brought for Elaine’s wedding, but he’d advised them to come in their everyday clothes. Roy wore a plain flannel shirt and brown pants held up by suspenders. Maude’s calico dress was well made but faded from many washings. They were the embodiment of hardworking Americans and would help make the case today.

Gray shook Roy’s hand and nodded to Maude. “Thank you for coming.” He couldn’t even bear to look at Annabelle, but he sensed her presence. Radiant, fresh, and wholesome.

Clyde Magruder was heading their way, an overly broad smile on his face as he held out a hand. “These people are with you?” he asked Gray.

“Miss Larkin is a friend,” he said, offering a perfunctory handshake. “Mr. and Mrs. Larkin are her parents.”

For a fraction of a second, Clyde stiffened, but he recovered quickly. “So you’re Annabelle Larkin of Good Housekeeping fame. You don’t look at all like I expected.” He didn’t bother to mask an amused snort of laughter.

They still had ten minutes until the meeting convened, and Clyde put that time to good use, prodding for insight into their unexpected presence. When he discovered the Larkins were farmers, he asked polite questions about the nature of their farm, but all the while he kept glancing nervously at Gray.