Home of the Braised Read Free

the United Nations. There had always been unrest in Durasi, and the prior administration’s resentment of the United States was well known.
    By all accounts this chance for future peace negotiations, starting with this welcoming dinner, could be the defining moment in President Hyden’s career. Stakes were high, and tensions were even higher.
    My staff and I were determined to serve a spectacular meal in this sparkling venue, knowing that world leaders were always in better spirits when they were comfortable and well-fed.
    “As far as we know, there are no cultural dietary issues, is that right?” Bucky asked.
    “That’s correct,” I said. “We’re waiting on a final word from Sargeant, though.”
    “How is he going to balance his new position as chief usher with his sensitivity director responsibilities?” Cyan asked. “They haven’t hired his replacement yet and both are big jobs. Especially the chief usher position.”
    “You know Sargeant,” I said. “He’ll get it done.”
    Bucky looked like he was about to say something disparaging about our newly appointed chief usher, but I interrupted him. Peter Everett Sargeant, III, and I had experienced problems working together in the past, but this new reporting structure gave us an opportunity to start fresh. Plus, he and I had recently forged a tenuous truce. I wasn’t yet at the stage where I’d want to hang out with the man during my off hours, but I appreciated the newfound respect he’d shown for me. The least I could do was return the favor.
    “He’s going to need all the support we can give him,” I said.
    “Ollie, you are too forgiving,” Bucky said. “Think about all the aggravation Sargeant’s caused you over the years.”
    I hadn’t forgotten. But people change, often when you least expect them to. Sargeant and I had faced death together, and since that frightening day, he’d been kinder to me. Not by a lot, but enough to notice. He was definitely more approachable. “He’s the chief usher now,” I reminded Bucky. “Which makes him our boss.”
    Virgil rolled his eyes at that. “I still can’t believe they selected Sargeant for that position. What were they thinking?” I was about to chastise him for questioning the president and First Lady’s decision, but he waved a hand as though he couldn’t be bothered to care. “Does anyone know if the chocolate shop staff is in today?”
    “I saw one of them earlier,” Bucky said. “They’re busy coming up with ideas for the Durasi dinner, too. Why?”
    “I have an amazing chocolate dessert planned for the family tonight. I want to make sure they haven’t forgotten.” Virgil headed for the door, speaking without bothering to face us. “If anyone needs me, that’s where I’ll be.”
    The moment he was gone, Cyan nudged me. “Okay, back to the wedding. What happened?”
    I told them about how, after Gav had proposed the day before, we’d gone directly to the Moultrie Courthouse to fill out a marriage application. According to the courthouse website, our license would be ready in three business days.
    “Except now,” I concluded, “even though the license will be ready, it looks like there aren’t any openings for weddings for eight weeks.”
    “Oh, that’s not so bad.” Cyan clasped her hands to her chest and let out a romantic sigh. “What’s eight weeks when you’re in love?”
    Bucky held up both hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “In this day and age, you should be able to find a willing officiant on the Internet . . . like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that yourself.”
    “We did, actually,” I said. “In fact, we searched out a few last night.”
    “And?”
    How to explain? Even though Gav and I weren’t the most traditionally romantic people in the world, we’d both had the same reaction to the “Wedding Officiant” ads we’d encountered online. One after another, we’d rejected them (those