“Come now!” Dickie prodded. “I hear that half of Washington is at her feet, and the other half are taking bets for when the first lady will fire her.”

A gruff voice sounded behind him. “It’s not fair to take aim at noncombatants, Dickie. You know that.”

It was old Jedidiah Magruder, the patriarch of the clan. His face looked like it had been carved by a battle-ax, but his suit was flawlessly tailored.

Dickie made a few more halfhearted attempts to sniff out information, but when a couple of men tried walking along the edge of a fountain like a balance beam, Dickie saw more promising material and wandered away, leaving Gray standing uncomfortably beside his family’s archrival.

“I haven’t had a chance to extend my condolences about your father,” Jedediah said. “Nicholas Delacroix was a fine man, and the industry has suffered a true loss.”

“Thank you,” Gray said.

“I’m glad you’re back in the country so I have a chance to apologize in person for all that nonsense a few years back.”

Three dead people, and Jedidiah Magruder considered it “nonsense.” Gray kept his face deliberately impassive. “Yes. Go on.”

“It was an anomaly,” the old man said. “It’s a shame that our first attempt to do business together turned sour, but accidents happen, and there may be other chances for us to cooperate.”

Clyde Magruder joined his father, and Gray noticed a new sapphire pinky ring to go with the gold walking stick. At fifty, Clyde had taken over primary leadership of Magruder Food a few years ago. While old Jedidiah Magruder had been a tough competitor, the son was both a nightmare and a cheat.

“Welcome back to civilization,” Clyde said. “Where were you? India, I think I heard?”

“Ceylon,” Gray replied, ignoring Clyde’s genteel shudder. “They have an interesting blend of mustard with a natural heat I’m interested in cultivating.”

“Find the right chemist, lad,” the elder Magruder advised. “You can dial in as much or as little heat as you want.”

Clyde smiled pleasantly. “Dad, you know the Delacroixs don’t believe in science. I’m surprised they even consent to have electricity in their factory. Then again, my chemistry degree is from Princeton, so I’ve never been afraid of science. Remind me where you studied, Gray?”

“I didn’t go to college, Clyde.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Clyde said in mock surprise. Somehow he managed to bring up Gray’s lack of a college degree in every meeting. “Science is the wave of the future. You might like the idea of cooking the same way Martha Washington did a hundred years ago, but please don’t stand in the way of progress for the rest of us, hmmm? Your dad was a frightened possum in the face of science, but I’m expecting more from you.”