Clyde stood and tried to force the old man to sit down, but Jedidiah was having none of it, continuing to rant that all Magruder products were pure. The journalists scribbled to keep up with the stream of angry promises, but most important was the government stenographer, whose rattling machine captured every word. Jedidiah’s ranting carried no legal weight, but he was still painting his company into a corner.

Maude held up a paper summarizing their research from the Library of Congress. “I’d also like the company to address their fraudulent applesauce, vanilla flavoring, coffee—”

“That will do,” Major Gilligan interrupted. “This is irrelevant to the military, but you can send those papers over to the Department of Agriculture. They’d probably care; they love that sort of thing.”

“Actually, we’re here,” someone said at the back of the room. Four men in plain suits stood, introducing themselves as members of the committee for food standards. “We are overjoyed the Magruders have agreed to list ingredients on their products for all the American people. Well done, sir!”

Jedidiah finally realized his every word was being recorded, and plopped back into his chair, breathing heavily, while Clyde remained standing and took over for his father.

“That’s not going to happen,” Clyde said. “I know that government bureaucrats may lack an understanding of the complexities of labeling processed food—”

“I don’t,” Gray said. “It’s actually quite easy to get new labels printed up. I can show you how.”

Clyde’s eyes narrowed, no doubt remembering the laughing mice on the label Luke had designed. “Nothing said here today is legally binding,” he bit out. “The only thing that matters are the words written on that contract, and it’s for baked beans and chipped—”

A commotion in the doorway caused Clyde to pause. Two bull-necked men entered the room, followed by Caroline pushing a dour-looking woman in a wheelchair. The first lady? The middle-aged woman wore a high-necked gown, and her steel-gray hair was braided around her head like a crown. Caroline met Gray’s gaze across the crowded conference room and winked. In front of her, Ida McKinley sat in the wheelchair like it was a throne, wearing a fierce expression as she banged her cane on the floor with considerable vigor.

“Why did this meeting start without me?” the first lady demanded, her voice ringing through the chamber. Even Maude Larkin dropped into her seat, stunned into dazed silence.

Major Gilligan rose, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he adjusted the collar of his uniform. “We were unaware you planned on attending, ma’am.”

“I take an avid interest in the health of our troops. Everyone knows that.”

Major Gilligan gestured to a young orderly to make space at the table. “Please join us, ma’am. We certainly welcome your insight on supporting our troops.”