Buffalo West Wing Read Free Page B

curator’s office.”
    His hands came up, clutching one another as though seeking to grasp my meaning. “What?” He blinked several times. “You’re telling me you have a secret admirer?”
    “Apparently it’s for the children. There’s a note inside. But until I figure out who left it here and why, I’m keeping it refrigerated and out of sight.”
    “Clearly, the snack was intended as a gift for the new First Son and Daughter.”
    “And just as clearly, I will not serve anything to anyone in this home unless I can be absolutely certain that it’s safe.”
    He scoffed, frowning in that condescending way of his. “Well, of course it’s safe. It couldn’t get inside the White House if it wasn’t.”
    I was about to remind him of other confections we believed had been “safe,” but he must have anticipated my reply because he backed up a step and raised his hands. “Have it your way,” he said. “The reason I came down here was to let you know that I will be keeping close tabs on the children for the first weeks while they settle in.”
    My face must have betrayed my skepticism because he continued. “Although I am generally in charge of making sure the White House is sensitive to social and religious mores when entertaining guests, I have taken it upon myself to expand my responsibilities to ensure the new First Family is made to feel welcome in their new home.”
    That was the job we all shared. Rather than point this out, however, I asked, “Do you have kids?”
    He blinked. “No, why?”
    “I don’t either,” I said, “so I’m not speaking from experience. But they’re going through a major upheaval in their lives right now.”
    He waggled his head. “Upheaval? You make it sound so negative. They’re the new American royalty. They will have everything they want. And then some.”
    “They’ve left their home and friends, and they will be living in a fishbowl from now on. With everything changing around them, I have to believe the new First Children will be most comfortable interacting with adults they already know.” If I could keep this tedious little man away from the kids, I would be doing a very good deed. “Their grandmother will be in residence. If you intend to plan anything, I suggest you make arrangements through Grandma Marty first.”
    Sargeant didn’t care for my advice. I could see it in the precise way he steepled his fingers near his chest and tapped them together. “You’ve been lucky, Ms. Paras. I’ll give you that. But the Hydens are not the Campbells and while you may have fooled Mrs. Campbell, I suspect our new First Lady will not be such a pushover.” A tiny smile curled up one corner of his mouth as he took his leave. “It’s about time the First Family sees my worth rather than be dazzled by the stunts you pull. I’m looking forward to the next several weeks.”
    I glared after him, knowing in my heart he was wrong, but knowing just as clearly that he would never admit it. My “stunts” had saved the White House—and its staff—from several embarrassing incidents. Was it too much to ask for a little respect from our sensitivity director?
    At the door, he turned back. “Finally, after all your shenanigans, it’s my time now.”
    I shook my head. I guess it was too much to ask.

CHAPTER 2

    I GOT MY FIRST CHANCE TO TALK WITH THE kids when the social secretary’s assistant, Carol, accompanied them to the kitchen that evening during their scavenger hunt. Bucky, Cyan, and I knew exactly what role we were expected to play when the troops swarmed us, and so were prepared for the ruckus that rolled our way just before 10 P.M.
    Eight kids arrived, laughing and talking, consulting hint sheets and arguing over who’d spotted which clue first. Both First Kids had invited three friends each, and the noise from their chatter was louder and more boisterous than we’d heard in our halls since Mrs. Campbell had organized the Mother’s Luncheon a couple years back.