Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos (9 page)

She smiled. “I don’t know how MiMi keeps up with those girls. They wore me out. It makes me wonder if I should have had some of my own.”

“Oh, oh, trust me on this, Claire. It’s much easier to be a grandparent or an aunt. A fulltime diet takes all your time and energy for about twenty years and that’s 24-7, as they say now. MiMi and I really enjoy the grandchildren in a way we couldn’t our daughter. She says we spoil them but we just enjoy them. And we don’t have to be responsible for raising them. So we love them, spoil them and then give them back to their parents until the next time. And, as soon as they leave, we collapse for a while until we get our energy back.”

“What’s that, dear? Are you telling our secrets?” MiMi arrived and Jack and Wiley were right behind her.

It took a while before everyone had drinks. Then Mrs. Kramer came in and put an attractive tray of hors d’oeuvres down on a coffee table. Claire noticed that no one was talking about the serious issues, instead keeping the conversation on lighter subjects. So she didn’t ask any of the dozens of questions she had.

David patted his pocket before reaching in to pull out a piece of paper. “Claire, I almost forgot. Suzanne sent you this.” He laughed. “Good thing I remembered or she’d be pinning a note on me like the kindergarten teacher did.”

Claire glanced at the paper. It was an itinerary for the next day, starting at the Library of Congress, lunch with Marian Kirkpatrick, and then meeting Jack for the visit to the Vietnam and Korean War Memorials.

She looked up with amazement. “How does she do this? How did she know Jack was taking me to the Vietnam Memorial tomorrow? And who is Marian Kirkpatrick?”

“Amazing, isn’t she?” David nodded. “Actually, not so strange. I understand you told her about wanting to go to the Library and, of course, Jack talked to her about your schedule for tomorrow. Marian Kirkpatrick is our Director of Human Resources. You met her at the Board Meeting the other day. But I don’t know what lunch is about. Do you, Neil?” He looked at his protégé and seeing his headshake, he continued. “Well, if Suzanne scheduled it, there is a very good reason.”

“Is the schedule all right with you, Claire? If it’s too much for one day or if you’d rather do other things, I’m sure Suzanne can adjust it for you.” MiMi’s concern was touching.

“Are you kidding? I spent all day today trying to keep up with you and the girls; this will seem like a vacation.”

When Mrs. Kramer appeared in the doorway to announce dinner, MiMi led them all into the small dining room. Cook had done herself proud. The salmon baked in a light pastry with fresh dill and lemon butter sauce was delightful. The vegetables and salad were more impressive to Claire now that she knew most of the ingredients were grown right outside the kitchen door.

When they finished the English Trifle, loaded with rum and fresh fruit, and sat back to enjoy their coffee, the conversation turned to the more serious purpose of the dinner.

“Well, David, we’ve done a thorough review of the security measures here, and I think we’re both satisfied with the plan. Jack made a couple of good suggestions to Charlie, and we all agree that we need to crank up our level of vigilance for a while. I’m sending a crew out to cover the house for the next week just as an abundance of caution. That way Charlie can stay close to you and Claire without worrying about the security here.”

David nodded and MiMi looked relieved.

“What about the party Saturday? The security won’t be obvious to the guests, will it?”

“No, these guys will be unobtrusive. Most of them are off-duty police who do this kind of work a lot. We’ve used them before when we’ve had special projects. Some will dress so they look like guests while some will work with the valets to make sure all the guests are invited ones. I assume you’re using the same catering company?”

At MiMi’s nod, Wiley continued. “I’ll have a word with them just for safety’s sake, but really, MiMi, don’t worry. We’re doing this so we don’t have to worry. If we thought there was imminent danger, we’d suggest you cancel the party. No one wants to risk your family or friends. Just think of us as party insurance.”

MiMi nodded again, the worry now gone from her face. “I really appreciate your attention to this, Wiley. The Gala isn’t so important it couldn’t be cancelled, but it has become somewhat of a tradition. So I don’t want to cancel if I don’t have to. Really, you’ve made me feel so much better now.

“And you talked to Percy and Mrs. Kramer?”

Wiley nodded. “Everyone’s in the loop that needs to be. It will be a great party. My wife and I are looking forward to it as we do every year.” He shook his head with a dole look on his face. “Whoa, wouldn’t I just hear about it from her if I told her I made you cancel it. She’s been talking about what she’s going to wear for a month now.”

“Well, Wiley, that sounds like you’re not taking your lady out dancing enough,” David interjected good-humoredly.

“Can’t; my boss keeps my nose to the grindstone.”

Neil and David snorted their derision. “You’re the one. You love that office of yours.” Then they all laughed. They knew how it was when you worked at something you loved; it was hard to go home sometimes.

The Library of Congress was Mecca to librarians. And now Claire had made her pilgrimage. She remembered with embarrassment how before she opened the bookstore, she had spent years learning the routines and systems at the San Francisco Library, where she had worked for so long. Eventually she had almost become smug in her expertise. But that was nothing. This was the ultimate. This was what it was all about. This was the world’s largest library.

Charlie had delivered her to the side door this morning just in time for her to join the VIP tour. After the tour she had been met by Amanda Myers, a friend of Suzanne Queensley, who took Claire into the inner-world of the library, introduced her to their process, the staff and the philosophy behind the Library of Congress. Claire couldn’t believe her good fortune. She never anticipated she would get such a personal view of the institution she and her colleagues had always regarded with such respect. And if its function wasn’t impressive enough the building was awe-inspiring. Each of the reading rooms available to visitors was spectacular, crowned by the Main Reading Room with its soaring domed ceiling, its marble columns and giant female figures dwarfing the reading desks available to researchers.

The Great Hall she was crossing now, served no purpose that she could determine other than to impress the visitors with the importance of the building. The statuary, the columns, the stained glass skylights and the murals were only to please the senses, and she admitted they did. She glanced at her watch estimating she still had about forty-five minutes before she was to meet Marian Kirkpatrick
at Neptune’s Fountain in front of the building.

Her footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floor as Claire headed down the corridor to the room she had seen on her tour this morning. She had been surprised to learn there was an entire room devoted to Bob Hope’s jokes here in the Library. That room held a lifetime supply of funny quips. She needed to see them. She still remembered as a small child, sitting in front of the TV, laughing uncontrollably at his jokes. She didn’t know if she understood the humor or if she was joining her parents’ hilarity. Her father’s love of Bob Hope was one of her treasured memories. And so she had always admired him too.

She had been astounded to learn how he had cross-indexed each joke by subject matter so he could retrieve them easily. If he had a luncheon with the Boy Scouts in Kalamazoo he could retrieve jokes about Boy Scouts, Kalamazoo, Michigan and other topical subjects before he even left home. He kept a warehouse of filing cabinets to hold the material. When he gave the collection to the Library of Congress, they immediately began logging them onto a computer database and kept a separate room in the Library so the public could access them. She didn’t want to miss a chance to browse through them.

Claire emerged finally and hurried down the front steps only a few minutes late, but still smiling from the jokes she had been reading. She had managed to write down a few she thought the girls would enjoy, but of course, she read many more in the process of finding those. She shook her head in amazement. Somehow you take someone like Bob Hope for granted. You just think he was funny and he had good writers. You don’t think of it like a business. She had learned he used several teams of writers to concurrently write his TV shows, and then he selected the best of each for the final program. But he saved and archived all of the jokes the teams produced. He was smart. He was professional. And he was funny.

She hurried down the steps already scanning the people gathered around the fountain. She immediately recognized Marian from the Board Meeting. The dark red hair was natural, no one would be able to fake the gray hairs sprinkled liberally through it. She was probably in her mid-forties but could have been ten years older or younger. She gave the impression of being a serious person, very simply dressed, no jewelry of any kind. Her hair was expensively cut, her clothes were costly but conservative, and she wore very little makeup. Today she had on a dove gray suit, the jacket off, folded over her arm and a matching silk sleeveless shell. Her feet were shod in Nike’s as were most of the women’s on the street, choosing comfort and mobility over fashion for their lunch hour jaunts.

“Hi, Marian. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. I wish I had a good excuse, but I confess I was in there chuckling over Bob Hopes jokes and just lost track of time.” She held out her hand for Marian’s firm handclasp.

“No problem. Actually that sounds like a better excuse than most. And I came a little early, because I was given strict instructions to make sure you were not left anywhere unattended. But frankly, I was enjoying the fresh air.”

Her piercing gaze fastened on Claire’s face. “I appreciate you taking the time to lunch with me. I know you have limited time here with lots to see and do.”

“Not at all, but I guess I’m not quite clear as to why you wanted to meet with me.”

Marian ignored her comment. “Do you mind walking a few blocks? The neighborhood down the street has a few restaurants which are quite good.”

They headed down the sidewalk away from the Capital, which faced the Library. After only a couple of blocks the imposing office buildings gave way to a shady, comfortable neighborhood, dotted with restaurants which spilled out over the sidewalks, little shops which displayed a variety of goods and houses, or maybe they were flats, scrunched together, walls connecting, doorways and steps emptying directly into the pedestrians crowding the walkways.

Marian glanced at Claire, a faint smile hovering around her mouth. “You’re not the only one wondering why I wanted to meet with you.

“Neil called first thing this morning. He can’t stand not knowing everything that’s going on. But he’s not in charge, yet,” she added.

Claire’s surprise was obvious.

Marian went on. “I told him the same thing I told Suzanne when I asked to be added to your schedule. I just want to make sure you aren’t suffering any ill effects from the trauma you went through last spring. You know we have a large pool of excellent resources to treat our employees in cases of stress? And we would be happy to make these resources available to you. I know symptoms don’t surface immediately, and I thought Vantage owes it to you if you need this kind of support.”

Marian pointed at an inviting looking restaurant and quickly guided Claire to one of the tables in front, sitting in the deep shade of the trees hanging over them.

“Do you mind sitting outside? It’s not too hot yet, although when the breeze dies about three o’clock, everything and everyone will start to wilt. I’m cooped up in the office so much of the time I take every opportunity to breathe real air when possible.” She slipped her suit jacket over the back of her chair and picked up the menu for a quick glance.

The next few minutes were spent deciding on lunch choices, ordering and then Marian excused herself to use the restroom while Claire sat back sipping her water and watching the restaurant fill up. As cosmopolitan as Washington was, it seemed it was still only a large village, judging by the number of people who knew each other on the increasingly crowded street. Claire was enjoying the scene, grateful that Marian had chosen to give her a glimpse of what it would be like to work here.

“Oh, good. They brought the drinks.”

Claire hadn’t noticed when the waitress set down their drinks and now followed with salads.

Marian looked around their table and then, apparently judging they were far enough from neighboring patrons, leaned forward to speak to Claire, who leaned forward in response as if drawn by a magnet.

“I really wanted to have lunch with you so I could talk to you about Carol Daley. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and finally I decided I would make up my mind when I met you. You seemed like such a normal, common-sense type of person, I decided to go for it.”