Ten

The scorching kiss in the darkroom stayed with Marianne the rest of the day and all through the night. Was this what it felt like to fall in love? The most amazing thing was that Luke seemed to be falling right alongside her with no fear, only that joyous sense of excitement.

But Marianne was afraid. She wasn’t a risk-taker. She only wanted a normal peaceful family with no bellowing voices or vases hurled through the air. If she threw her lot in with Luke, she would probably have to become like Aunt Stella, and that wasn’t a possibility. Her dream of a perfect family included her parents, and that would never change.

By breakfast the forbidden joy of Luke’s kiss still lingered with her. Even the fact that her brother was visiting couldn’t dampen her mood.

“Andrew, would you like another slice of strudel?” Vera asked from the head of the breakfast table. “I know it’s your favorite, and I brought home two from the bakery especially for you and Sam.”

But mainly for Andrew, Marianne thought as she sprinkled salt on her scrambled eggs. Her brother and nephew visited Washington at least once a month. Andrew’s wife rarely came, because everyone knew that Delia didn’t get along with Vera. The way Vera hovered over Andrew annoyed her sister-in-law, and Marianne was glad not to put up with Delia’s disapproving presence.

From the opposite end of the table, her father was lording over the gathering. “There will be a vote on shipping tariffs this afternoon. Would you like to see your grandfather vote on that?” he asked Sam, and Marianne held her breath, hoping the nine-year-old would eagerly agree. Clyde was justifiably proud of his position in Congress and wanted his grandson to witness him in action.

“What’s a shipping tariff?” Sam asked.

“It’s when the government makes other countries pay a fee to sell their goods in the United States,” Clyde explained. “Tariffs are good. They protect our business, so you can come and watch me fight for the good of Magruder Food. Won’t that be fun?”

Sam looked to his father for how to respond. “Um, yes?” he said uncertainly.

The lack of enthusiasm didn’t sit well with Clyde, who grabbed a copy of The Washington Post and snapped it open. “You need to start educating your boy about the world around him,” he said to Andrew.

“That’s not fair,” Vera rushed to say. “Andrew is a wonderful father. Just look at how often he brings Sam to Washington to teach him about the ways of the nation.”

It was more likely that Andrew visited because he was still struggling at managing the company. Andrew had taken over Magruder Food when Clyde began serving in Congress, and he still needed plenty of advice.

Vera listed all of Andrew’s wonderful achievements, but her father was completely absorbed in the newspaper. His entire body went stiff, and his eyes narrowed in an expression that always frightened her as a child. Something in the newspaper had made him angry, and she was glad it wasn’t her.

Then he lowered the paper and skewered her with a piercing glare across the breakfast table. “Marianne,” he said carefully, “didn’t you tell me that you took the official photographs of the men volunteering for that pointless study at the Department of Agriculture?”

Her fingers froze. “I did.”

Without a word, Clyde folded the newspaper into quarters, then flung it across the table at her. It landed on top of her scrambled eggs with a splat. She carefully lifted the newspaper and saw the photograph of the Poison Squad lined up in the parlor of their boardinghouse.

Her mouth went dry, for there in the front row was Luke Delacroix, crouching on one knee. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were still laughing as he looked directly into the camera. The headline jumped out at her:

Daring Team of Men Taunt Fate as They Join the Poison Squad

She set down the newspaper. “Yes, I took that photograph,” she admitted, then casually took a bite of eggs even though they tasted like sawdust.

“I forbid you to see that man again,” her father warned.

“I didn’t know he would be there,” she said truthfully. “I couldn’t have turned around and walked out.”

“Have you seen him on any other occasions?” Clyde demanded, his face pure flint.

Marianne glanced away, fearful her father would see too much on her face. She’d seen Luke often enough to start falling in love, and she was terrible at disguising her feelings.

“A few times,” she admitted.

“What man?” Vera demanded. “Is Marianne seeing a man and didn’t tell me?”

Andrew grabbed the newspaper, shaking off a few bits of egg and reading the article. His eyes quickly skimmed the text, and he began reading aloud from the story.

“‘A sign printed by the men hangs over the dining room entrance, reading “Only the Brave Dare Eat the Fare.” The men joke and tease during the meals, speculating about where the poison is hidden.’” Andrew glanced at her over the rim of the paper. “And you have something to do with this nonsense?”

“I only took a photograph for documentation,” she said. “I have nothing at all to do with that experiment.”

“Good, because it’s pointless,” Andrew snapped. “Food preservatives are perfectly safe, and these men are stirring up paranoia for no good reason. Listen to this nonsense.” He picked up the newspaper and began reading again. “‘The men jest about whose stomach is stronger. They claim the coffee cake was dusted with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a heaping spoonful of Rough on Rats.’”

Sam giggled at the name of the popular household rodent killer. “They eat rat poison?” he asked in excited wonder.

“Don’t be silly,” Marianne rushed to say. “The food is preserved with a bit of borax and formaldehyde, just like your daddy uses in our factory.”

“I want to try it,” Sam said.

“Marianne, who is this man your father is annoyed about?” Vera asked.

She risked a glance at Clyde, who clenched his fork as he smoldered at her from across the table. He nodded for her to answer.

“His name is Luke Delacroix,” she said. “He’s a—”

“I know who he is!” Vera cut her off. “Why on earth are you consorting with him?”

“I haven’t consorted with him! I was asked by my supervisor to take a photograph of the group, and he happened to be on the team.” This was exactly what she had feared. Why couldn’t she come from a normal family where she didn’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about lifelong feuds? She dared not mention the passionate kiss she had shared with Luke in the darkroom, but it might slip out that she’d also taken photographs of his office, and it would be best if she confessed that now. “I also took a few pictures of his office as a courtesy,” she said without meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I trust there will be no more such photographs,” Clyde stated.

“I’m supposed to take another set of the Poison Squad one month into the experiment. That will be next week at the beginning of March.”

“You will tell your supervisor that you are unable to take those photographs.” Clyde’s voice was implacable. “I want you to look me in the eye and promise me that you will do so.”

Her mouth went dry. Aunt Stella had been banished from the family for consorting with an unsuitable man. She didn’t think it could happen to her, but she couldn’t risk her entire world over a flirtation, no matter how charming the man.

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“I’ve been very lenient with you,” Clyde continued. “You traipse around town at all hours, and I’ve permitted it because I have faith that you are a sensible young lady. If my trust falters, you could be on the next train to Baltimore to live with Andrew and Delia.”

“Come live with us!” Sam said, still completely oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. Marianne would rather live in the North Pole before subjecting herself to life in Andrew and Delia’s household.

In the end, it turned out Marianne didn’t need to ask her supervisor to be taken off the Poison Squad assignment. That night as she brushed her hair, preparing to braid it before going to bed, a soft tapping came at her door.

“Come in.”

Her father opened the door, his face ice cold. “I’ve called Mr. Schmidt and told him you will be unable to take any more photographs of the Poison Squad.”

“Yes, sir.” She wasn’t usually so formal, but Clyde was still fuming.

“And if you ever see that man again, you are to report it to me.”

The door closed behind him with a gentle click, which somehow frightened her more than if he’d slammed it.